I don’t know precisely when it happened.
When I was a teenager, I used to answer the phone, regardless of the time of day, whether or not I was expecting a call, and without any idea of who was ringing.
Like a superhero.
Really. I, and everyone my age, should have badges for our incredible courage.
Now, whole weeks can go past without my answering the phone. I suppose there was the three or four years when the phone line didn’t really work – maybe I just got out of the habit. But that doesn’t explain everyone else.
I don’t know how we ever lived without Caller ID. Now, we get to see the name flash across the screen before we send it straight to voicemail.
I’ve watched people frown at their phones or sigh for minutes on end because, seemingly, it’s enough to know who was trying to call. They don’t need to actually speak to them.
Maybe we’ve just been improvising for years and years. Accepting calls and just reacting to them, stressing ourselves out by trying not to throw in a little expletive when the godparents call. But now, we can see who wants to make contact, and then – rehearse.
Just to get the smut under control.