Phone Phreak

Have you ever had the experience of talking with someone on the phone, and you both try to talk at once, and then you both stop to let the other one talk, and then there’s a weird pause before you both say “sorry, you go,” and things continue on like this for the duration of the call, to the point that you never feel like you hit a groove talking with that person, and after hanging up, you feel kind of wrong?

You were probably talking to me.

I hate the phone. Something about not being able to see a person’s face causes me to miss ever single stupid little cue as to when I’m supposed to talk, and when I’m supposed to shut up. My girlfriends all keep in touch with each other via phone, having long phone conversations about their lives, but the ones who have known me the longest don’t call – they know I’m a total spaz on the phone and that if they want to keep in touch they really have to either come visit or write me an email (surprise, I’m best at written correspondence).

So when I have freelance assignments that require me to do a lot of phone interviews I tend to procrastinate. I have a job right now that is actually really interesting. I get to talk to a bunch of city officials about their work and compile it all into a narrative article, but getting over my aversion to phone actually took some serious emotional bolstering. Picture me chanting “you are not a spaz,” a few times before dialing.

Of course, this is not the first project I’ve ever had to do interviews for, so I am getting better. I’ve learned to state my questions clearly, then just shut up and wait for an answer. I squash the urge to jump in and explain myself further if they haven’t answered in two seconds, and to just be patient, and let them speak. I am friendly and don’t waste their time with a lot of chatter, and ultimately, the feedback I’ve gotten from clients has been good, but it’s a battle every time.

Why on Earth has the transporter not been invented yet? Seriously, it’s the 21st century. I would gladly change out of my pajamas and do my makeup to pop on up to San Francisco for an interview, if it could be done Star Trek style: Beam Me Up. Sure, there’s a lot of potential for disaster–my molecules being scattered to the atmosphere, or whatnot–but at least I wouldn’t have to talk on the damn phone.


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