The Dying Art of Phone Conversations

For my eleventh birthday party I hosted a sleepover in my family’s newly-finished basement. We had two TV’s, a couch, a bedroom, and a strange glass door with view-obscuring tiles that almost made you think you were looking outside. I would spend hundreds of hours in that basement during the next seven years: watching football, playing Pokemon, and wondering why we had added this befuddling visual feature to our home. Along with the wine cooler and extra sink, the basement included a wireless phone — another thing you could answer and say “Hold on, I’ll see if she’s home,” into.

Post-grade-school, I invested in a deep and meaningful six day relationship with a girl, the highlight of which was screening the movie Dark Water. It ended tragically. Her friend broke up with me via instant messenger. However, the bond we forged during that dreamy almost-week was real. It was also composed largely of phone conversations. We talked over the landline for three hours at a time. You could see the call length on the phone’s little LED display. I don’t remember the meat of the conversations (if there was any). We were both allowed to multitask, certainly. I would watch Bam Margera’s reality show on MTV. “What are you doing?” rev’d the banter back up every ten minutes or so.

“Ahh!”

“What just happened?”

“I dropped the Oreos.”

“I like Oreos.”

This was some steamy stuff.

My star-crossed middle school relationship (Fallout Boy song?) seems like a speck in the rearview now, but it’s also a snapshot of a specific time: a time when talking on the phone mattered. You had to develop the skill. If you wanted to speak to one of your friends at home, that meant dealing with an adult en route. You had to flash some manners to get past the bouncer.

A 2014 report from the Pew Research Center found that over 40% of households had dropped landlines — an inconceivable number just a decade before. My family barely has a home phone. All the kids are on cell phones now, so the only people who call are telemarketers and the school robot saying there’s a snow day. This technology is fading so fast that cable companies pretty much give the feature away as part of a service package.

With the rise of texting and messaging apps, talking on the phone has become an archaic skill. My family shares a 500-minute cell phone plan. There are five of us. We’ve never even come close to exceeding the limit. The only instance in which I talk on the phone for an extended period of time is when I’m catching up with my parents. Well, that and phone interviews.

That’s right, the stakes are high! A preliminary step to employment involves demonstrating competency in a skill you rarely use. It’s like competing in a Latin spelling bee or a trans fat cook off. Not to say that I don’t exhibit enthusiasm and tonality when I’m on the phone with my parents, but they’ll take my side either way. Convincing a stranger to like you over the phone is much more difficult.

Preparing for these situations can be a stressful prospect. That’s why I’ve started talking aloud to myself. It’s great practice. I’ll have two-way conversations while I pace around my apartment. It’s like role playing all on your own. I’ve come up with some of the best, most elaborate answers to all the toughest questions I haven’t yet been asked. I feel bulletproof. For extra rehearsal, I’ve been cold calling random phone numbers and seeing how long I can keep the other person on the line. Record time is eight minutes. I actually made myself cry during that one. To accommodate the different types of positions I am applying for, I went ahead and compartmentalized my personality. I’ve got three different “people” who can answer the call situationally. I’ve never been more prepared for phone interviews in my life.

If I make it to the in-person interview stage, I think I’ll have “Danny 2” attend. I like that guy. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.