Answer me!

I hate telephones. I despise telephones from the very core of my being. Loud, harsh, intrusive things are telephones. I hate talking to people on the telephone. I'm awkward and inarticulate on the telephone even when talking to good friends. There are about three people on the entire planet to whom I can actually talk comfortably on the telephone; otherwise, I avoid talking on the phone at all costs.

The sound of a telephone ringing is like a dagger through my brain. Whenever the phone rings, be it at work or at home, I scream (or at least think), "Fuck off!" There is no such thing as an aurally pleasing ringtone; they are all persistently grating, designed to resonate a special brain frequency that causes maximum aggravation. A telephone ringtone barges its way into you consciousness and demands to be heeded. Drop everything, motherfucker! Someone is calling you. Pay attention to me! I don't care what you are doing: this is far more important and I am going to nag, nag, nag at you until you pick me up. And once you have dropped everything, scrambled to the phone and picked up the receiver, it turns out to be some sales cunt trying to sell you shit you neither want or need.

Email. I like emails because you can decide when to read them and respond. When it arrives you know it is there but you can finish up whatever it is you are currently doing before reading it. And you can reply at your leisure, take a little time to formulate a proper response. I am generally more comfortable communicating via the written word than in spoken conversation but if I have to talk to somebody I'd rather do it in person than on the bloody telephone.

The reason that I mention this now is because the phone is constantly ringing at work. I am doing a poky little temp administration job for the City Council's housing renovations department. People are always calling the building surveyors for whom I am working and if they are not around the call diverts to my phone before the voicemail kicks in. There isn't much point in my answering the phone for them - I don't know anything and can't answer any queries. I file stuff and photocopy stuff and update spreadsheets; I have only a cursory knowledge of the specific procedures and duties of the people I work for. The point is that the callers might as well leave a voicemail as talk to me. But no, the fucking phone rings and rings and rings as I try to get on with my work and every time I have to say, "Such-and-such is not here. Can I take a message? No, I don't know that, I'm affraid. If I could take your details... No, I'm sorry, I know nothing... No, I don't know who can answer that... If I could just take your details... No, sorry, I don't know... Really, there's no point in explaining... I can't answer that... please, you details...," and so on. All fucking day. I share an office with four other people. Somehow, callers always, always, always manage to call one of them seconds after they have left their desk for a few minutes. "Uh, he's just stepped away from his desk... No, I don't know how long he'll be... No, I don't know where he went... No, I won't be able to answer that... Can I get your details... No, sorry, I really don't know..."

Telephones: obnoxious, obtrusive, relentless fucking machines. I hate them. I probably hate telephones as much as I hate anything. And don't even get me started on mobiles and that fucking Crazy Frog.