Because You Never Asked

     (This essay was written way back in the early 90’s. I was recently talking with a friend who was explaining how long he once lived without a television. I one upped him by explaining how long I once lived without a telephone, something that is documented in this essay. In rereading it, I was amazed how quickly the world has changed in the 13 years or so since it was written. The automobiles of 75 years ago were much closer to what we still do with them than the way in which we used the telephone just a decade or so past. In spite of all these changes, I would still stand by the cultural commentary made so long ago in this essay.

     The essay “The Cell Phone”, written in 2006, must now be considered a companion to this one.)

     Anyone who may have been stubborn enough to read this mass of dubious philosophical patter from the beginning, might remember some of my more misanthropic traits; my annoyance with music (see essay “Music”), my distaste for beer (see essay “Beer”). There are other such quirks --- I have never worn a watch, don’t use a wallet, have no credit cards and don’t own a car, all of which trumpet my off key maladjustment to the dictates of my culture. I don’t have a camera, a VCR, nor other standard implements of contemporary homo-sapien life like a tape deck, an eight track, a walkman, and a whole host of consumer schmaltz that simply doesn’t tempt me. But my next confession might be the least acceptable of all ---

     I haven’t had a telephone for more than 20 years.

     No telephone!?

     This is a revelation that leaves people stunned. Before they can react, I defend my stance by saying that “I hate to hear them ring”. Every time I hear a telephone ring (or whatever they do these days), it’s comforting to know it is not for me. If somebody needs me, they can find me. I’m not undercover taking bribes from the “Russkies”.

     Perhaps the most ridiculous manifestation of our country’s devotion to commercial combat is the recent advent of competition in the telephone business. This further loosening of the free market makes me even more content in not having a telephone --- I’m insecure enough without having to worry about who might be giving me more words for my dollar.

     Every time I turn on the TV there’s a commercial with some gleeful telephone employee shouting at me as if they’d just hit the lottery. They all look so happy working for their particular telephone company, as if they’d rather be doing nothing more than devoting their lives to their company’s competitive struggles.

     A scene at the MCI office: “Hey Joe, there’s a phone call for you. It’s Cindy Crawford. She says she can’t stop thinking about your glazed, steel-like organ and she’s waiting for you in the hot tub.”

     “Tell her I’m too busy working. Ask her if she’s heard about our new plan whereby left handed people can call their relatives in Mexico who live over five thousand feet above sea level for almost nothing. If she’s interested, tell her to call me back.”

     Although I don’t have a phone in my house, I’m convinced they are useful devices. I use them all the time, especially public phones. Nowadays, using a public phone can be a humbling experience. First you must find one not caked in vomit. Then it must accept your coins. Then it must give you a dial tone. Then you must know how to use it, a skill competing phone companies has substantially complicated. Quite frequently, you put in your coins and a recording immediately says, “thank you”. That’s a nice idea, but the recording is usually a nasally whine more suited for turning a phrase like “eat shit”. This is something like making a perfume that smells like re-fried bean farts.

     I habitually use telephones to call my mother collect. I call collect not due to any indigence, but because I don’t normally walk around with the slot machine supply of quarters necessary for long distance calls (author’s note: the phone card was still not prevalent, or perhaps I had not discovered them yet. I am always way behind the curve of techno development). Don’t worry, my mom doesn’t mind; she’ll gladly pay for the chance to nag me for 15 minutes.

     This type of call is becoming increasingly uncertain. The first mountain to climb is getting my mom to say “yes” when the recording asks if she accepts the call. I’d say she is less than a .200 hitter here, but I feel compelled to come to her defense, for although she is almost 80 years old, she is neither senile nor stupid. It’s just that she expects to talk to a person when she picks up the phone, not a tin man recording without a heart.

     The last time I called my mom, even before asking when I was going to settle down and do something with my life, she asked what phone company I was using. I had no idea and asked why she wanted to know? She explained how some company called “Encore” had billed her for over $30 the last time I called. I can only assume I missed the commercial with the exuberant employee explaining how such a rip off could be avoided. Or maybe the commercial with the aging blond actress, who works for the competition, might have forewarned me. As a diligent consumer of inane conversation, I’ll have to pay closer attention to these ads in the future.

     I don’t want anyone to think I’m totally against free enterprise and competition. Some things readily lend themselves to such practices. When I buy a cookie, I want the one I like, and not a Fig Newton. This is easily done because I can recognize the difference between the ones I like and the ones I don’t. But when it comes to rival telephone companies, I am lost. There are things like MCI, AT&T, Sprint, Western Electric, GTE, the various Bell Systems, and now my mom claims there is a predator called Encore out there. Where does one start and another begin? Who’s wires are where, what poles are who’s? The public phones all look the same and are still where they always were, but somehow everything has changed. Are all these companies truly competing? Maybe it is all a charade, a spectacle, a show, just like their incessant commercials? What ’s this all about? Will somebody please tell me?

     “Thank you” --- or is it “eat shit”?

     There is one thing I do know with regard to this competition in the telephone business: in spite of the ghostly savings which might result from all this, or the ounce of desperately better service that may be received, it is not worth all the time, energy, hype and resources necessary to carry it out. This is not going to make us feel better in the morning. It is nothing more than “busy work”, like when the boss tells the clerk to sweep the floor when there is nothing else to do. We are wasting our time with such “Rube Goldberg” business wars. We are cracking a nut with a complicated monstrosity. There are lots of better things we could be doing with our time on this planet. We are degrading ourselves with such competition. We know how to make phone calls. We don’t have to shout and holler at each other in an effort to see who can do this mundane technological task better. We can improve this technology without driving ourselves crazy in pursuit of it. It’s time to grow up!

     Relevant Material: “Progress or development, as it is conceived in modern times, only responds, at all levels, to a competitive format. Upon careful scrutiny, 20^th century man has learned little more than to compete, and the day in which we might accomplish something with a cooperative effort seems further away.” From the book, “Un Mundo que Agoniza” (A World in Agony), by the Spaniard, Miguel Delibes.