JUNE 13, 2019 – Back in the day, we who are of a respectable vintage communicated by voice in two ways: in person or by telephone with a combination receiver/microphone attached by a cord to the telephone itself, which was hard-wired to the outside world. We corresponded primarily by one of three methods: a letter conveyed by hand, through the United States Postal Service, or via facsimile transmission.
These “old fashioned” means of communication were far less susceptible to interruption, omissions, misapprehension, and unintended interception than is the case with modern methods.
Contrast the “good old days” with my experience yesterday with much too typical modern communication: over the course of the day, a client sent me fragmented emails and texts. Via an email drafted on a large flat screen in my office, I responded with a thorough, substantive explanation of several issues and how they could be resolved. By his text reply I knew he needed a better understanding of what he’d read, I suspect, on his smartphone screen while multi-tasking.
I’d received his text just before my wife drove up in front of my office building. We were on our way to a fund-raising event, and to be more efficient, we’d agreed that she would retrieve me from work as she drove from home to the event.
While my wife punched the event address into the car’s navigation system, I pressed the phone icon on my client’s text message. The “route guidance system” voice chimed in (with “ROUTE GUIDANCE SYSTEM”) at exactly the moment I heard my client’s voice answering my phone call.
“Hi, A_______,” I said. I could hear a baby in the background screaming its head off. “I’m on my way to an event, and I had a few minutes to talk so . . .”
“. . . IN AN EIGHTH OF A MILE TURN RIGHT,” the guidance system voice rudely interrupted.
“. . . I just saw your text and thought I’d call and talk things through, but maybe this isn’t a good time for you . . .”
“No, yeah, this is fine,” said the client. Now joining the baby crying in the background was a conversation between two women, then laughter, then what sounded like pots and pans posing as a percussion ensemble.
“Okay, well, you wanted to know why I recommended that you secure the indemnification obligation with a mortgage and how . . .”
“AT THE NEXT STREET TURN RIGHT.” There she was again.
“Yeah, I didn’t quite understand . . . you want me to do what?” The baby was no longer crying in the background, but I could hear a woman’s voice.
“Take a mortgage.”
“Sorry, I was talking to my wife,” said the client. “What did you say?”
“I tell you what,” I said. Why don’t we talk in the morning?”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“CONTINUE ON THIS ROUTE FOR A QUARTER MILE, THEN TURN LEFT,” said the guidance system woman, getting the last word.
Sometimes I miss the good ol’ days.
© 2019 Eric Nilsson
