Pet Peeves and Sasquatches

We all have our little pet peeves, or, as I prefer to call them, idiot-syncrasies. I have many of them: That's what makes me very eccentric or interesting, depending on whether you understand me or not.

Voice mail, the mixed blessing of telecommunications, happens to be one of them.

Let me clarify my position (one of my eccentricities: I hate to be misunderstood) regarding what could be considered a life-saver to many. When I am away from my phone, I find voice mail a real blessing. When others are away from their phone, I likewise find voice mail a real blessing.

Where the mixed blessing part comes in, then, is when a) I leave a message on someone else's phone and they never return my call; and b) when I am actually talking on their voice mail, I tend to blather (longer than usual, I might add).

In a word, mixed blessing "A" is a matter of ignorance, and mixed blessing "B" is matter of embarrassment.

So this is some free advice to all you "ignorant" people out there: When someone phones you, leaving you a polite message – stating name, time, and date as well as purpose of the call – please phone them back. If you don't want people leaving messages for you, let me make a humble suggestion: Get rid of your voice mail. Save the $4.95 from Telus, and simply let your phone ring and ring and ring.

And an explanation of "B" is also in order here: Please bear with me if I phone you, as I go on and on about anything and nothing - be it the weather, the price of ice in the Arctic, or whatever comes to mouth, er, mind. Talking to someone else's voice mail is like trying to talk to someone in a coma: I talk, but they don't respond. (Oops, did I say coma or Grammar 9?)

The more modern version of voice mail, of course, is the Inbox on your computer. I write many people on a regular basis, exchanging a lot of information. I can write at midnight or midday; I can write four paragraphs or four words. I neither worry about bungling my message, nor do I worry about disturbing the person I am trying connect with.

On the one hand, if I make a spelling mistake or don't articulate my thoughts well - and I do that with remarkable consistency – I can take a deep breath (or the cyber equivalency of such), and start again. On the other hand, the panic attack I have when I am on the phone is that I have only one jump at this jig, and I better be in step, because when the music stops, the dance is over. (Great metaphor, budding writers: Do you have any idea what I meant by the above verbiage? Me neither.)

I should add yet another pet peeve with voice mail: Many times the guy or gal leaving the message is either very curt ("Hi, this is Horace; leave a message"), or very witty – correction: they are trying to be funny - ("Hi, this is Doris, and I am either scuba-diving in my bathtub or playing marbles with my pet sasquatch.")

If that's funny, then I'm good-looking. (Now that's funny!)

Voice mail is great when used properly. Abused by neglect, however, it can create unnecessary frustration for caller and callee (is that even a word?) alike. The caller - in other words, someone like me - can get the distinct impression that someone doesn't want to listen to me, let alone talk to me. And for the callee, it becomes a very annoying interruption – especially if you actually are playing marbles with your pet sasquatch.

So, next time I attempt to phone you, please either answer the phone or get back to me as soon as possible. And when you do get back to me, please speak clearly, slowly, and intelligibly. I'll make sure I then return the call, once I'm out of my scuba gear.