Voicemail is for Chumps
I expend a lot of mental energy imagining possible scenarios, which won’t ever occur. The surprising thing about life is that you never know what could happen, even in the smallest and miniscule ways. Humor is found in life’s most unremarkable moments.
I call my close friend hoping to get her answering machine. I still think of it as an answering machine, though certainly no one employs a cassette-tape machine connected to a landline anymore.
The phone is ringing. I wonder what’s she’s up to, typically imagining activities more fun and lively than what I’m doing at the moment. Mentally, I’m rehearsing what I’m going to say on the message so it’s not too long or rambling. The phone rings on and on. I debate whether it’s worth it to wait to leave a message at all when I am assaulted by a robotic and generic voice. I hate the robot greeting. What if I accidentally phoned a wrong number and now a perfectly silly message will go to waste.
I always try to say my first and last name, in the event she’s made another friend named Julianne. Besides, “hey, it’s me,” is possibly the most irritating greeting, behind robot. Mid-message I usually think of something funny to say, a joke or stupid voice. I most definitely have different voices and accents for specific friends. For example, I have a Tomato Lady Temperature voice for my friend Carly when she orders food. Is that weird? My mind snaps back to the task at hand and I finish up what is most likely, a very odd and overly thought out message.
As I prepare to hang up, she calls me on the other line. I answer her call with “Oh, just erase that message, I didn’t say anything important.”
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