ARCHIVE: Before calling me, ask yourself: Is this textable?
Just don't call, mmkay?
“You millennials.”
This was my dad the other day, exasperated because my sister and I – both firmly settled into our (frankly objectionable) position in the group of people born between 1981 and 1995 or so.
We were rolling our eyes at him at his perfectly lovely and practical suggestion that his friendly pension expert would ‘give us a call’ to help us plan for, oh you know… our future.
I did not want a call.
I wanted an email. (Rather, I wanted to ignore the concept of needing a pension forever, but I'm a grown-up, apparently, so can't do that anymore.)
My sister, with the inside intel, said “he’s dad’s age” or “he’s a bit old” or something, by way of explaining that an email was off the table and the man would indeed be phoning me. I basically broke out into a rash at the thought of it.
While my sister and I are usually the queens of the eye roll, this time my dad added one to his “You millennials” comment.
Web-savvy (!!!), independent, tolerant, challenging the status quo, open and adaptive to change, millennials – according to the internet – are absolutely jammers with virtue. We bridge the gap between a life without the internet and a life completely defined by it. We started the gig economy. We work so hard we got ‘burnout’ classified as a syndrome. We are the generation that contains the effervescent queen Beyoncé Knowles Carter (I stole the phrase ‘effervescent queen’ from Nadine, a gorgeous waitress in Sprezzatura off Camden St). We are unequivocally brilliant, I think. So why do the generations we’re bookended by seem to hate us?
I feel as though Gen Z have no choice but to resent us. They think we made a total balls of things for them – that has to be a generational rite of passage, right? But as for Gen X and their eye-rolling mockery? I have a theory as to why we don’t jive.
They want to speak to us. On. The. Phone.
I obviously cannot speak for every single millennial here, so I’ll just speak for me.
Don’t ring me.
Like, I simply do not want to answer the phone to 95% of people who call me, approximately 98% of the time.
I have two friends I’ll *always* answer the phone to because I know, when they’re calling, it’s either a medical emergency or someone has passed on. I’m not joking. I answer the phone to my sister (who calls often and has the god-given, genetic and biological right to not only call but VIDEO call, and expect me to answer, which I always do) and my husband (often essential). I’ll always, always answer to my parents – but they don’t call me very often, and when they do it’s generally a 30-second logistics call (*ring* “are you at home?” “Yeah” “I’ll be over” *click*) because we see each other a lot.
I saw someone on Twitter talking about how – back in the day – we’d spend actual money buying ringtones from some five-digit text-in number, chuffed to bits when our Nokia 3310 would play Zombie Nation in analog monotone. Now, honestly, were my phone to ring out loud? I would panic and fling it out the window. It’s never off silent, nor should it be. My generation, and the one that follows, don’t need ringtones anymore. How will we know if our phones are ringing, you ask? Two ways: 1. We’ll feel a general floating sense of foreboding and 2. We’ll already be looking at the screen.
Phone calls are invasive. They DEMAND. They’re presumptuous – often, the caller assumes that your day should be interrupted by their need to phone you. They’re unreliable narrators (if you need something confirmed, there should always be an email trail, or else it may as well not have happened). They are often inefficient. Nine times out of ten, a text will suffice. Many calls, just like those two-hour corporate meetings about having a meeting, are mostly unnecessary and serve as platforms for closet egotists. They’re traps!!*
*I’m fundamentally against using exclamation points in my writing unless as part of an interrobang, but some moments just call for one.
For clarity, here is a list of occasions I shall not be answering the phone, and I’d love to know how many apply to you, reader:
I will not answer if UNKNOWN comes up on the screen. Chancers. What do you think this is, 2004?
I will NOT answer if I haven’t got your number saved. Get away outta that
I will not answer any number from any country code I don’t recognise. If they need me, they’ll have to physically find me
I will not answer an UNSOLICITED call. What I mean by that is… I like talking to friends. But I like to know in advance there’s a call about to come. “Have you five mins to chat if I ring?” is the perfect text to receive, if you’re me
I will not answer calls from anyone after 10pm. Only sadists call people after 10pm
I will not answer calls before 8am. Only sadists call people before 8am
If I’m scrolling a particularly captivating Twitter thread or Instagram caption, I will not answer. Yes my phone is in my hand, no that doesn’t mean I’ve got the bandwidth to slide the green dot five centimetres to the right
If I suspect you might need me to do something I don’t want to do, nope. Not gonna answer
If I’ve lower than 20% battery. It’s basic safety
If I’m in conversation with literally anyone in real life I will not answer
If I can think of literally any reasonable lie as to why I couldn’t answer
If I suspect the call might last longer than 30 seconds I’ll ignore
If I don’t have a baldy notion why you’re ringing me I will squint and then ignore
If I’m rushing and/or have my hands literally or metaphorically full I will throw my phone away rather than pick up
I’m sure there are more.
I feel it’s necessary at this juncture to point out that I’m a generally very nice person who maintains a not insignificant amount of very strong and fulfilling friendships AND I have been known to be a decent enough family member. I also hold down a marriage and a small child.
But genuinely… I dislike phone calls. Whatsapp me. Voice notes are THE BEST. Text me. Instagram message me. Tweet me. Write me a god damn letter, send a pigeon, whatever you like. Just don’t ring me.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
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