It’s weird how none of us can live without our phones, but nobody actually answers them anymore. Not if you’re smart, anyway.
I’m smart, and I don’t answer my phone because nine times out of ten, it’s some Nigerian prince who just happens to have a few diamond mines or oil fields he needs to offload on the cheap. And if I’d only be kind enough to provide my PayPal details, he could hook me up this very day.
One of the things I like about my iPhone is the level of control it gives me over notifications. I’m sure Android does the same thing, but, you know—I’m never going there. Right now, my phone is set up so that only calls from family and a couple of select favourites get through. Everything else hits the wall. That means at least a dozen, sometimes a couple of dozen, Nigerian princes go begging every day.
Yesterday, though, I was the one who hit the wall. We’re replacing an oven, and I needed to talk to the logistics company delivering it. But they live in the 20th century, back when things were simpler, and people actually answered their phones. So I missed three calls from them while they tried to schedule delivery. Luckily, I managed to call them back this morning before I lost my delivery slot.
It did make me wonder how they handle the absolute tsunami of scam calls that must hit their numbers all day, every day. But it also got me thinking—our phones aren’t really phones anymore. They’re more like walkie-talkies for keeping in touch with family and a few close friends.