Good morning, kiddies! Welcome to my world, where the phone never stops ringing and, apparently, I am never supposed to sleep.
This time, it’s not my darling roommate–he’s sitting out in the living room in some state of chemically-induced nirvana. [What, I’m not sure, and I don’t care.] But the only reason that I am awake at this unGodly hour is because someone is completely unable of grasping this concept:
The telephone is not a toy.
Let me clearly state this: if you call my residence, and I do not answer, it is because of one of three things:
1. I am not home. This is very often the case.
2. I am asleep. This is somewhat often the case.
3. I am unwilling to answer the phone. This is very rarely the case.
In any of those cases, it is advisable that you choose to leave me a message on my machine. If I am not at home, I’ll get it when I come in the door. If I’m asleep, I’ll get it when I awaken. And if I’m in an anti-telephone mood, I’ll get around to it when I feel like using Alexander Graham Bell’s invention yet again.
But the absolute worst thing that you can do is to call, let the phone ring four-and-a-half times, hang up, and hit redial. To wit, let’s go over the reasonable excuses for doing so:
1. My apartment is on fire, about to be demolished, or is in the path of a tornado. [In any case, calling my cell phone in that case is a better idea. It’ll allow me to talk and run at the same time.]
2. You are a member of my family or are currently the object of my romantic desire, and you have a Darned Good Reason to talk to me–on the order of #1 above.
3. You are calling me to leave more than one million dollars. If so, you must say it like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers, even though I’ve never seen the movies and personally don’t plan on doing so in this lifetime.
Specifically, calling enough times to wake me from a dead sleep–I remember last looking at my clock 90 minutes ago, which means I was just into REM sleep, and if you want to find somone that’s a cast-iron female dog to awaken when he’s in REM sleep, just come live with me sometime–is a very bad idea. I do wish the darling individual would call back so I could let them know just how much I appreciate their entreaties.
[In case you’re curious, I’m pissed off enough that I booted my computer up, which takes at least two minutes because it’s a piece of crap, and had the urge to write about this here on IJSM. Dear reader, let this serve as a reminder that I’m a nasty son-of-a-quality-engineer when I am loosed from the Arms of Morpheus.]
This is Geof Morris…good night!