I have come to a cosmic understanding. Phones stink. All phones stink, but cell phones are the worst.

I resisted the cell phone craze for quite a long time, but when my son was born, my parents insisted on putting me on their network for “safety.” It was a very nice gesture on their part; although I never had an emergency situation in which I desperately needed the phone, knowing I had it made them feel better.

Eventually, my husband and I decided to get our own phones. He likes technology. He likes being able to talk to his best friend all the time. I, on the other hand, have never liked talking on the phone. I was one of those bizarre teenagers who avoided calls even from my closest friends. My mother used to make me order pizza, and I would break into a cold sweat. Phone conversation just doesn’t work to my strengths. I’m not a glib conversationalist; I don’t think in quick sound bites, plus I’m pretty sarcastic and rather terse. Over the phone, I come off as rude.

A few months ago, we decided to cancel our landline. We were spending over $100 on phones each month, and we needed to streamline our budget. Now we spend about $60 a month on technology that allows people to reach me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Lucky me.

So here are my questions.

1. Why do people need to reach me at all hours of the day or night, no matter where I am or what I’m doing? I’m not the president of the United States; I’m not even a doctor. Good heavens! How on earth did human beings survive before phones?
2. Why should I pay money for people to call me at their convenience? Usually, when I answer, the person on the other end inevitably wants to give me bad news, ask me for something or chastise me for not answering the phone when they called earlier. I pay the bill; I answer when I have time.
3. Why is it okay for someone to interrupt me when they call on the phone? No one ever says, “Hi! Do you have time to talk?” No, they just assume that since I answered, they can launch into a 20-minute discussion. If I don’t answer, they get mad and leave me nasty messages. If someone just walked into my home while I was in middle of changing a diaper or taking a shower, that would be considered rude. Because they call instead of coming over, it’s acceptable?
4. How am I supposed to remember to keep my phone charged, keep it with me at all times and keep the ringer on or off depending on my location and activity? Do other people really spend that much time and energy thinking about such things? I have so many objects to keep track of; the phone is not even in the top ten things I’m worried about. I have my keys, my asthma medication, my wallet, my lunchbox, my school bag, my son’s school bag and all its contents, my daughter’s diaper bag and its contents. I can’t be expected to know where my phone is, what the status of its battery is, and how loud the ringer is set. I’m upstairs, downstairs, out in the yard, in the car, tutoring, teaching, at the store, at the park, at preschool, at the baseball field, at the movies. I really don’t have time.
5. If cell phones are supposed to keep us “safe,” as so many people insist, why do they cause so many dangers on the road? So often when I witness someone driving badly, they’re on the phone.
6. Weren’t cell phones supposed to connect us? I remember a time when I could walk down the street, see a friend or acquaintance and actually strike up a conversation. Not anymore. Nine times out of ten, when I see an acquaintance, they’re walking along, head down, ear to the phone. They might look up and smile or wave, but a conversation is right out. They’re already having one with someone more important than I am.

So that is my rant. I know my position is unpopular, and I accept that. I recently read an article about a couple that had decided to get rid of their televisions. I wonder if I could convince my husband to try a similar experiment with the phones. Probably not.