"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
When I work at the
temple these days, I’m about as useless as hair on an igloo.
In order to keep me appearing to be useful, the Powers That Be have
devised an ingenious plan to keep me busy. It is my job to call
temple patrons on the phone and tell them about slips of paper they
left in the temple about — oh, two or three years ago.
These slips of paper
have been sitting in drawers, unclaimed, for all this time. Nobody
has missed them; nobody has known they were missing. I call people
and tell them they have left these pieces of paper behind — if
I can get them on the phone, that is.
And there’s the
rub. You see, in these days where people have telephones that is
almost surgically attached to their persons, actually speaking people
is a whole lot harder than it used to be in the Dark Ages before the
advent of cell phones.
Think about it.
Before cell phones,
back in the prehistoric days of, oh, the 1990s, when a person wanted
to talk to somebody else, he called that person on the telephone.
Back in those dark days, people did have answering machines, so if
that person was not home, all the person had to do was to leave a
message on the answering machine. Message left. Message returned.
Problem solved. Life was easy that way.
Now everyone has a cell
phone on his person. So why is life so much harder?
I’ll tell you one
big reason. It’s because everyone wants to save a few bucks by
getting rid of their landlines and just having cell phones. What we
few people who still have landlines know is that the rest of you are
pretty much unintelligible when you speak to us on your expensive
cell phone technology.
Yes, you may think
we can hear you. The television commercials assure you that we can.
“Can you hear me now?” the commercials ask. The quick
answer is, “No. We can’t.”
It has nothing to do
with coverage. Or maybe it has everything to do with coverage. I
don’t know. I don’t even want to know. All I know is
that in the past week I have fielded two very important calls from
people I very much wanted to hear, and I only heard every third word.
Or every tenth word. Or every fiftieth word. How do I know? All I
know is that I had no idea what the people were saying.
All the time the people
were on the phone, they were chattering merrily away and assuming
they were being understood. I didn’t understand a thing, and
it didn’t have anything to do with my ears. My ears were and
are in perfect shape. My hearing is stellar. It was their cell
phones that were causing the problem.
Both these people were
people with a whole boatload of money — people who could afford
the best cell phone plans in the nation. On both occasions, the
conversations went like the newscasts when the anchors talk to a
correspondent in the field halfway around the globe. The
correspondent says something. Fifteen seconds later, the anchor
might or might not hear half of the sentence.
Both talk at once.
Neither talks at once. Nobody understands anything. It’s a
royal mess.
One of these
conversations was with a dear friend I hadn’t heard from in
months. The other was with a potential client whose business could
potentially get me out of debt. Did I want to hear what they had to
say? You bet your sweet bippy, I did. I wanted to hear every
ever-loving word. But both conversations were hopeless. I
ended both conversations in total frustration.
I wanted to cry. But
in both cases, the party at the other end of the line had no idea
nothing was wrong. You see, my voice sounded just fine. My
end of the conversation was coming from a landline.
I suspect most
interrupted communication takes place via text, if you can consider
messages that say, “Had a gr8 time tnx 4 ur present C u 2mrw
:)“ to be communication at all.
(Gee, now I am sounding
old!)
It isn’t just
reception that is the problem, however. It is the answering machines
that field the calls in the all-too-frequent event that the person is
away from his cell phone or (more likely) has turned his cell phone
off while he is at work or at the doctor’s office or is
otherwise occupied. Here is a sampling of responses I get:
The phone rings twice and then goes dead.
The phone goes dead without ringing at all, even though I have dialed the correct number.
The phone is answered by an automated voice that says, “This mailbox has not been
connected yet.” At this point the line disconnects. My favorite, however, is the ever-popular
“This mailbox is full. Please hang up now.”
Did you know how this
is how your telephone is being answered? I’ll bet you didn’t.
As somebody who makes a whole lot of phone calls at a time, I can
tell you that this is what is going on when your cell phone does not
think you are listening.
For the most part, I am
a person who likes modern technology. The digital video recorder,
which allows me to watch television shows when I want to watch them
and pause them whenever the phone rings, is a miracle to me.
I also like our toilet
seat that washes you and dries you while you’re sitting lazily
in the bathroom being pampered. (I’ve heard the ones in Japan
actually apply a scented powder to your rear end, but I’d have
to actually fly to Japan to find out and I hate to fly.)
Oh, there are modern
gizmos everywhere to get me excited. But when people show me their
cell phones, I am not as impressed. Yes, they are great for taking
pictures. Yes you can play all sorts of nifty games on them. Yes,
you can read scriptures on them (and maybe even shop on eBay on them
while you are pretending to read scriptures on them in gospel
doctrine class, for all I know).
But as for actually
talking on the cell phones, I’m not so sure. Talking on a cell
phone is kind of like praying while you’re watching television.
In either case, I’m not sure whether the signal actually gets
through, or if it’s just bouncing off the ceiling. And in both
cases, the signal in question is something that could be extremely
important.
Kathryn H. Kidd has been writing fiction, nonfiction, and "anything for money" longer than
most of her readers have even been alive. She has something to say on every topic, and the
possibility that her opinions may be dead wrong has never stopped her from expressing them at
every opportunity.
A native of New Orleans, Kathy grew up in Mandeville, Louisiana. She attended Brigham
Young University as a generic Protestant, having left the Episcopal Church when she was eight
because that church didn't believe what she did. She joined The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints as a BYU junior, finally overcoming her natural stubbornness because she
wanted a patriarchal blessing and couldn't get one unless she was a member of the Church. She
was baptized on a Saturday and received her patriarchal blessing two days later.
She married Clark L. Kidd, who appears in her columns as "Fluffy," more than thirty-five
years ago. They are the authors of numerous LDS-related books, the most popular of which is A
Convert's Guide to Mormon Life.
A former managing editor for Meridian Magazine, Kathy moderated a weekly column ("Circle of Sisters") for Meridian until she was derailed by illness in December of 2012. However, her biggest claim to fame is that she co-authored
Lovelock with Orson Scott Card. Lovelock has been translated into Spanish and Polish, which
would be a little more gratifying than it actually is if Kathy had been referred to by her real name
and not "Kathryn Kerr" on the cover of the Polish version.
Kathy has her own website, www.planetkathy.com, where she hopes to get back to writing a weekday blog once she recovers from being dysfunctional. Her entries recount her adventures and misadventures with Fluffy, who heroically
allows himself to be used as fodder for her columns at every possible opportunity.
Kathy spent seven years as a teacher of the Young Women in her ward, until she was recently released. She has not yet gotten used to interacting with the adults, and suspects it may take another seven years. A long-time home teacher with her husband, Clark, they have home taught the same family since 1988. The two of them have been temple workers since 1995, serving in the Washington D.C. Temple.