I hate making phone calls, especially when I don’t know the person on the other end of the line. It’s one of my pet hates. There are the long awkward silences spent staring at the ceiling whilst the brain goes into hibernation mode a la Windows XP (right down to occasionally requiring a hard reboot in the form of a smack on the head). There’s the stumbling and stuttering before words are finally manipulated into vaguely intelligible sentences. There’s that babbling gush and rush of um-filled sentences as one tries to explain to the person on the other end of the line what you’re after when your own brain can’t quite recall the reason.
And yet, once upon a time, I loved using the phone. When I look back now, my teenage years seem to consist mainly of (a) attending high school, and (b) rushing home after school to confer with friends I’d only just left. Oh, sure, there was the occasional pause for a quick meal, and to glower at the parental units, but the phone was never far from my hand.
So, what’s changed? Is telephone-phobia a sign of advancing age? Perhaps I am doomed to crinkle and wrinkle at the edges as I stare at the phone with increasing horror. Or maybe we’re hardwired at birth with a limited capacity for making/receiving phone calls? If that’s the case, then I’ve squandered my lifetime’s worth of telephone calls recapping my high school years…
