OK the phone is unplugged

Now see, I wasn't going to post to this thread so as not to distract Ray but since it's turned into a more general discussion...

I love email for communications. Email is 'right away when I get to it'. Phone calls and text messages demand your attention. Snail mail (postal) makes everyone wait for the long transmission time. With email, you get to it when it's convenient for you and as soon as you send your message, it's waiting for them. Waiting, not interrupting.

Doesn't mean I don't talk on the phone, but the ever-indulgent wife and I share something like 300 minutes / month (maybe more, not sure) and we've never even come close to using them all.

ray: don't be a da. put it in vibrate mode, and i'm sure abigail wont allow me to tell the rest of the instructions ! cheers !

My phone does not have a vibrate option. I do not own a cell phone and I swear to you I will go to my grave having never owned one. I sometimes steal one from my daughter when I travel but that's it.

I would end up in the nut house if I had a cell phone.

The house phone I do have is old. Back before the days of call waiting and caller ID. As long as I can refrain myself from sticking it in a hydraulic press and turning it into a plastic pancake I will keep using that one. The last thing I need is one that has even more gadgets on it.

Ray

Ray you have no problems you don't cook, you eat anything Festis, Mo has to offer...
Hardies, Pizzas, or.... Walmart chicken strips... Woo, Good...
You do have cell, I want give out the ###########...
Sorry Ray...

Bite your tongue in 2010, Ray Cover and hold it there for a few min...
Jerry

When I had a separate phone in the shop, it was hooked to an answering machine which said:

I'm sorry, but the noise from my shop equipment drowns out the phone ringing. Please leave a clear, concise message about which of my services you are interested in and a convenient time to call you back. I listen to messages at the start and end of the work day.

I get more wrong numbers in a week now than I did in the previous 30 years. My last four digits of my house phone are the same as Fred's Pharmacy, Autozone and the doctor's office, but in a different order. People who are either dyslexic or have fat fingers trying to dial either always seem to punch the buttons in the wrong order on their cell phones.

One stands out in particular. The phone rings and I answer.

The obvious voice of a large, black woman asks, "Could I speak to Dr. XXXX."

I answered, "I'm sure he'd be happy to speak with you. Why don't you try dialing his number instead of mine."

Poignant pause while my reply sinks in and then the largest, rolling belly laugh I've ever heard erupts as she sees the humor in my statement. It cracked me up too and she was still laughing when I hung up.