When I was little and my parents told me shit about how to use the telephone, I don't really remember it being difficult to learn (even at age 3 or whatever I was). So, I have to wonder why the fuck is it that most of the people who call my house are fucking morons who don't seem to know how to use a telephone? Ok, let me correct that. It's not "people" in general. I hate to be ageist, but.... Yeah, sorry, it's teenagers. Every teenager who has my number seems to be a complete idiot with the telephone. Maybe today's parents just neglected to teach them basic shit about the phone. That's what I figure, anyway. So, since their parents have failed (as usual), I'm here to clean up the mess. Today's lesson from the Lord Galen Educational Network is entitled "How Alexander Graham-Bell Rolls Over In His Grave."
Lesson 1: If I didn't answer the first time, calling back 20 more times in a row isn't going to work either
Today as I was doing some yard work, I heard the phone ringing. My wife wasn't home, so I ran inside to get the phone just in case it was her needing something. I saw a number I didn't recognize from somewhere in New Jersey. Since it wasn't my wife and I was busy outside, I decided that they could just leave a message and I'd call them back. I already knew who it was. It was somebody from NYRA that I'm helping with a Student Defense case. It's not like there's shit I can do on the weekend anyway, so again, being as busy as I was, I ignored it.
Yet it came again. Three rings, nothing for a second, and then 3 more rings (avoiding the voicemail like a schmuck). By the 5th or 6th time in a row of this happening, I was pissed. People doing stupid ass things tends to do that to me. So, I turned off the all the ringers in the house and went back outside. The all-knowing Caller ID later informed me that Mr. Intelligence called several more times in a row after that.
This was merely today's incident which was the last straw and prompted this rant. It's HARDLY an isolated thing though and it's not like just this one guy is a dumbass. Every teenager or kid who has my fucking number does the EXACT SAME SHIT!
Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring... Ring, ring...
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I'm either not home or not answering (for a good reason, most likely). I could be fucking my wife for all you know! How would you like it if you were gettin' some ass and goddamn telephone wouldn't shut the fucking hell up and leave you alone! Whatever the reason, if I didn't answer on the first ring, I'm NOT going to answer the other 15 times you call back, IDIOT! Seriously, do you ACTUALLY BELIEVE that if you continue calling repeatedly that someone will answer? Well, THEY WON'T, MORON!
Lesson 2: Leave A Fucking Message
Now AFTER your stupid ass has called 150 times and I get home to find my Caller ID box bleeding to death on the counter from being raped by your electronic penis of stupidity, I call to check messages. The perky little computer lady tells me "You have no new messages in your mailbox." HUH?! What the fuck?! If something was THAT fucking important, WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYYYYYYY couldn't you leave a messages so I could find out about it when I get home???
"Well, you know I hate answering machines...." Well, you know I don't give a fuck.... If you can't leave a message, don't fucking call.
Lesson 3: Leaving a Message Requires Speech
If you did manage to make it all the way through the terribly long and unbearable 5 second voicemail greeting, you should then actually SAY something. Sitting there listening to and recording of you breathing for 2 minutes before you hang up isn't conveying much of anything other than the fact that you have the IQ of a dildo, which I probably knew already.
Lesson 4: How to Tell Time
Find a clock and take a look at it. If it's a digital clock, here's the lesson. If it's dark outside and the first number on the left (I'm going to assume you know left from right, but that's a pretty big leap of faith there) is 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 or 6 DON'T FUCKING CALL ANYONE, ASSHOLE! Furthermore, if it's daytime outside and the number is 6, 7, or 8, STILL DON'T FUCKING CALL PEOPLE At least, not without them expecting your call first. Most middle-of-the-night calls come when someone has fucking died or been seriously injured. Therefore, when your stupid ass picks up the phone and puts it to your empty fucking head to call me at 3 in the morning, my heart skips a beat thinking that someone is dead or something. STOP THAT! Normal people are trying to sleep at this time and the ONLY acceptable reason for you to call is in an EMERGENCY! No, not a dramatic-bullshit teenager emergency, a REAL emergency where the word "hospital" or "morgue" will be used (relevantly) at some point in the first few words of the conversation. Yes, I know that I'M not usually asleep at these times, but I don't live alone moron. And I swear to God, if you pull this shit when I have a baby, I will hunt you down and pull your spine out of your asshole!
Oh, and if the clock is round and shows the number 12 at the top and 6 at the bottom, take note of which number the long hand is closest to and follow the rules above.
Lesson 5: You Called *ME*
If you have managed to run the gauntlet of all these complicated things like what time it is and the voicemail and all that to actually get on the phone with me, it would probably be a good idea to actually speak TO ME instead of just holding the phone so I can hear the conversaton between you and your friend. I'm not interested and will probably hang up.
That's all for my specific lessons. You may want to print them out and keep them by the phone to remind yourself not to be stupid little shit.
I do seriously wonder if the current generation of teenagers had parents who just never thought about teaching them what a telephone is for or how to use it. There actually are rules for using that thing - SURPRISE! I learned how to use the damn thing as a toddler, so I'm pretty sure the concept is not over your heads. It's just that you've obviously never been taught these things. I completely blame your parents. They've apparently taken the phone for granted and your social skills have suffered as a result.