The Phone That Doesn’t Ring

When the device in our pocket stopped being a phone

Photo by Thom Bradley on Unsplash

I’ve come to the conclusion that my phone is almost useless as a phone.

Now that sounds strange when you think about it, because the thing is literally called a phone. It’s the most powerful communication device ever invented. It can connect to satellites, stream movies, read the news from anywhere in the world, and tell you how to make sourdough bread if you suddenly decide to become a baker at midnight.

But as a phone?

Almost useless.

I get so many spam calls that I just turned the ringer off. Completely off. If you’re not in my favorites list, you’re going straight to voicemail. No ceremony. No introduction. No chance to tell me about my car warranty, my extended Medicare benefits, or the fact that the IRS is apparently moments away from sending the sheriff to my house.

If you actually want to talk to me, you text me.

And I know that sounds strange, too, because texting was supposed to be the backup. The quick message. The “running late” note. Now it’s the primary way human beings communicate because the phone part of the phone has been hijacked by robots and criminals.

I still use my phone for plenty of things. I read the news. I check my email. I listen to music. I look things up on the internet. I even watch a ballgame on it now and then. It’s basically a pocket computer.

It’s just not usable as a phone anymore.

As a GenXer, this still feels weird to me. When I was growing up, the phone was mounted on the kitchen wall. It had a cord long enough to stretch halfway into the hallway if you wanted privacy, which you never really got because the whole family could hear you anyway.

But that phone didn’t ring all day and night with scammers.

If it rang, it was someone you knew. A friend. A neighbor. Maybe your uncle is calling to talk about the game. And if some telemarketer somehow managed to call during dinner, my dad would have handled it in about three seconds flat.

Actually, knowing my dad, he probably would have ripped the phone off the wall.

Yes, we had hard-wired phones back then. Real phones. The kind that could probably survive a small earthquake.

Phones used to connect us to each other. You could hear someone’s voice, their tone, their laughter, even when they tried to pretend they weren’t upset about something. Conversations had pauses. Stories wandered around before they got to the point.

Now the phone rings, and you assume it’s a scam.

That’s quite a transformation when you think about it. One of the greatest communication tools ever created has quietly turned into a marketing device for businesses and, in many cases, a criminal enterprise designed to scam older people out of their retirement savings.

Progress is funny that way.

I’m not entirely sure what the answer is. Maybe better technology. Maybe stricter enforcement. Maybe we just go back to carrier pigeons.

In the meantime, I’ll keep sending people to voicemail.

And honestly, my voicemail greeting might be the most entertaining thing my phone does anymore.

So if you call and I don’t answer, don’t take it personally.

Just listen for the beep.

Please leave a message.