Calling is Cold

I've put off a home improvement project for over a month because I hate cold-calling. Sure, I told myself it was because I was 'busy' or that I was waiting for a call back from the one and only person that I did call (in August), but really it was fear. Fear of the phone. Phone-phobia. True story - the worst year of my life was the year I worked for a PR firm in San Francisco. Not the firm's fault, just the fact that PR people live on the phone. I came home every night and cried.

So what else do I put off for dread of the phone? Doctor's appointments, catching up with friends, siblings and friends of siblings - basically, if a task must be done on the phone, I've procrastinated on getting the job done.  The advent of texting, Evite, online calendars and patient portals vastly improved my life. Even Rob and I communicate mainly via email and Google calendar (at least during the day).

Why does a disembodied voice make my blood run cold? Well, it's hereditary. My parents are loathe to call any of us because "we might be busy," which I understand to mean, "you might answer the phone and not want to talk to us."  I get it, NOT because it's at all true (in the case of talking to my parents, anyway), but because that's how I feel when calling the plumber, electrician, tree service, etc. God forbid that they might want to take my money - that would require our spending time on the phone negotiating dates and times and job parameters.

So the '80's track lighting in the family room will undoubtedly linger into the 2020's, certain appointments (mammogram, anyone?) have been on the list for several years, and I really owe several brothers a phone call, but I thought it better to write this blog instead. The phone sits next to the computer, glaring at me, but - at least for now - it can't call anyone by itself. Ha!