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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Just be truthful on voice mail … not cute

Stephen Lindsay Correspondent

Until recently I had my business phone forwarded to my cell phone voice mail after hours. Thus I had little choice but to have a straight- forward message that wouldn’t offend anyone but me. I’m not a phone-type person.

I have strong misgivings about the dilemma I’m in these days over being practically required to carry one. Couldn’t I be sued by my children if they declared an emergency and I wasn’t there to answer my phone? What would my ex-wife do on her drive to Spokane each morning if she didn’t have me to talk to?

As those closest to me know, I don’t allow the phone to rule my life. My son, Taylor, figures that if I don’t answer the first call, I will the 10th or 11th – in a three-minute period. I guess that he’s usually right, but I can’t imagine my mood is very helpful by then. However, he’s 14, and subtlety is a lost concept. Reason is a lost concept, actually.

I also get a lot of long, drawn-out messages on my voice mail. Then the person wonders why I don’t call them back. After all the rambling, what’s left to say? I didn’t have anything to say in the first place.

I learned my phone etiquette in college – way before cell phones were even a concept. The professor I most admired admitted me into his office for a conversation that now I can’t recall. What I will never forget, however, was that soon after we started, his phone began to ring.

I paused for him to answer it. He said to me, “Go on.” The phone rang and rang, but he made no move to answer it. He sensed my discomfort and explained. “Right now my time is with you. I don’t wish to interrupt that. I can speak with that caller later if it’s important.”

Wow, that made me feel incredibly special. You mean I don’t have to jump and answer it just because the phone rings? It’s a way of thinking I have cherished ever since, and ever since I have resented the way phones attempt to intrude into what occupies my life at the moment.

Just as I can hardly imagine the days when smoking was allowed on airplanes, I cannot bear the thought of cell phones being active on flights. I cringe whenever the landing gear touches down, 125 cell phones are all flipped on at once, and the first ringers begin their infernal songs. It seems that everyone has a message or two, and they can’t get to them fast enough.

So, given my attitude, how am I to come up with a sincere and original voice mail message? When I first removed the business message I had something to the effect of “This is Steve Lindsay. If you were calling for ‘blank business,’ this isn’t it!”

Some thought that too joyous. Then I had, “… , and I’d be pleased to have you leave a message!” Everyone who knew me well, knew that to be a lie, so I received a lot of rude messages.

I really like my current message, but some find it offensive. “… I don’t really have anything to say, but if you can convince me that you do, I’ll call you back.” It’s truthful. It doesn’t leave false expectations. My best friend’s message, which he has never changed in all the years I’ve known him, says simply, “… leave a message and I’ll call you back.” And I think that he always does. But I don’t – I won’t. Is that so bad? Shouldn’t I let you know that up front?

That’s not obnoxious, is it? Taylor has a message that makes you think that there’s a bad connection and he can’t hear you. He gets me every time. I hate it. He recently auditioned and was told he’d get a call-back if he got the part. I suggested he change his message. He couldn’t understand why. I explained that if I was the director, I wouldn’t cast him just because of the stupid message. He was incensed, although he didn’t know the word.

I’m not trying to be cute or annoying, just honest. The phone simply isn’t a big priority in my life. Now I know that my daughter would faint if she read those words, but fortunately she never reads any of these articles. One day in high school geology class the teacher handed out one of my articles on the Lake Missoula floods. Christine said, “Hey, that’s my dad,” but she still didn’t read it. So why should I want to talk to any of these people?