Phone books. Back in the day, I never used them. Why, I would simply dial 411, state a name and city and wait patiently for the nice person on the other end of the line to look the phone number up for me.
The small fee they began to charge for such services brought that to an abrupt halt.
Suddenly I was looking up numbers all by myself. My family kept a phone book by the desk, one in the utility drawer and another under the rotary dial telephone that sat in a small opening in the wall between the dining room and the living room.
In days gone by, if I needed the number for an out-of-state relative, it was no big deal. I would just call Grandma Johnson, who would look it up in her Rolodex. Then I would open my own little metal book of important numbers, add the new name and life was good.
That was the tops!
My but how things change. On a fun excursion where all of our sons were present in the family sedan, I called to the back seat without turning around, “Could someone please hand me the phone book?”
Nary a peep.
“Hello?” I called out into the void, “Hand me a phone book would you?” Still no response. When I turned to face the four passengers (who I brought into this world), I was met with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
“Hand you a what?” asked Vernon, the eldest of the Clinch Clan and Mr. Technology himself.
“A phone book,” I replied while resisting the temptation to add a heartfelt, “Duh!”
“Who are you trying to call?” Vernon asked as if he were addressing an imbecile.
“I want to call the deli and preorder our dinner.”
With an emphatic eye roll, Vernon then pulled a sleek little iPhone out of his shirt pocket, pressed a button and asked Siri for the number.
“Shall I dial it for you?” Siri cordially asked.
Vernon then handed me his ringing device and turned to his chuckling brothers and mocked, “ ‘Hand me the phone book,’ that’s just rich.”
It’s all fun and games until someone gets annoyed.
Although I don’t have an abundance of techno wisdom, I know how to push buttons. I am perfectly capable of surfing the web, paying bills online and I am proud to announce that I man my own website.
I Facebook friends, have been known to Instant Message and I communicate via text messaging like it’s my job. I can also Tweet, Snap and Instagram. Not bad for an old gal.
But I still prefer to chat it up on my landline and, yes, I still use the phone book. I keep one in the kitchen, one in the home office and one in the car.
Yet, these days, with so many folks dropping their landline, listed numbers have gone the way of the Dodo and looking them up just isn’t the same.
Although I loathe it, more often than not I am forced to go online. Some websites are difficult to navigate, while others make you endure popups; not to mention the ever-loving “Hey, why don’t we make you a member for a mere $9.99 per month?”
And I thought the 25 cents that 411 charged was excessive.
I, too, have Siri, but I find her to be unreliable and oftentimes condescending. “I’m sorry, Lori, you don’t have any contacts with that name,” she said when I asked her to phone the utility company the other day. She has also been known to take untimely breaks on the job, for she thinks nothing of telling me, “I’m sorry, I can’t take any requests right now.” No explanation as to why she wasn’t taking any requests right now. I guess she just wasn’t feeling it.
Could it have been because she was busy? Do you suppose she was hanging with her peeps and didn’t want to be bothered? Was Siri on a hot date? Perhaps she was in a meeting with other snotty technological devices and they were all in the midst of practicing their condescending voices?
Technology is great, but sometimes it seems as if Grandma Johnson and her Rolodex were light years into the future.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her by sending an email to [email protected].