Telephone Line

 Do you remember waiting in line to use the phone?

I do. 

Not that this makes me "so old" or anything, but the thing that leaps to mind for me is that using a telephone is not the privilege it used to be. My high school girlfriend had a phone in her room and I can remember what an extraordinary sense of power that radiated. I should point out at this point that it was an extension of the main line and not a private line, which meant that anyone who had a notion and was sneaky enough to listen in from upstairs would get an earful of all the essentially meaningless banter that took place between her and me. This could be accomplished much more easily if the handset was old school and not a trimline, as hers was. On the old school handsets, one could unscrew the cover over the transmitter and pop out the microphone, then lift the receiver carefully off the hook and listen away. Unless the folks on the original call were aware of that faint click that announced someone else coming along for the ride. The same experience could be gained by cupping your hand over the lower end of the handset, ensuring that any stifled giggles would most likely be heard in spite of all attempts made to be sneaky.

Or, it could be that a parent would simply pick up the phone upstairs and announce that it was time to terminate the call because, "I need to use the phone." That need has diminished as the proliferation of personal communication devices has expanded to absurd proportions. You know the drill: Family of four sitting at the table, peering not at one another but at the slate in their hand that carries all the wisdom of the universe, as well as the capacity to communicate to virtually anyone else on the globe, but is transmitting cat videos instead. You are also familiar with the people for whom privacy is not a concern. The reason why phone booths disappeared. The ones who carry on their personal business at maximum volume as they walk down the street. Or the corollary in which those same individuals, imagining they are being more discrete, sit in their cars with their hands-free bluetooth connections blast their private conversations through the speakers of their deluxe car stereos. 

I remember the interim. That period of time during which people like Gordon Gekko carried a brick with an antennae so he could, as my father eventually did, carry on conversations that inevitably began with the phrase, "You'll never guess where I'm calling you from." Couple this with the tendency we have grown to carry on with those on the electronic line while ignoring those standing directly in front of us. 

Yes. I'm old. Turn off your phone at the table or I'll take it away and you'll have to use your personal computer to watch cat videos.