The Importance of Being Stupid


I love being stupid. I don’t have to lie when I “play dumb” to get out of things. In fact no one even asks me to do anything very often because they figure, “Oh, her, she can’t do it…she’s too stupid!”

I love being stupid. When I can’t balance the checkbook, nobody says, “What’s the matter, you stupid or something?” (They think they already know the answer.)

I love being stupid. All my friends figure they can’t depend on me to help them with anything. I don’t even have to refuse them or think of excuses.

I love being stupid. I never have to cook. I don’t have to get my hands dirty or try to figure out how much ½ of ¾ cup of sugar is. In fact, I go out to eat a lot.

I love being stupid. I don’t have to worry about mechanical things. Obviously, when something breaks down, someone else will have to fix it. Regardless of the cost and inconvenience, it is just one of those things that can’t be helped.

I love being stupid. When my computer crashes, I don’t have to try to figure it out myself before I call for technical support.

I love being stupid. Nobody ever asks me for directions. I guess they think I’m stupid – even though they are the one who’s lost.

I love being stupid. I get invited to all the greatest parties, and never have to help with the decorating or refreshments. Everybody thinks I’ll do it wrong or spill something, so they just go ahead and do it themselves.

I love being stupid. When I drive, people let me merge. They always signal to change lanes too. They figure as stupid as I am, no telling what I might do if they cut me off or make me really angry.

I love being stupid. When I go shopping, the sales clerks all try to help me. I get great service and extra attention. They want to get rid of me before I do anything stupid.

I love being stupid. When telemarketers call, I just say, “What? I don’t understand!” And after they explain, I say: “Huh?” They finally just figure I’m so dumb they are better off to leave me with the old phone carrier or credit card company.

I love being stupid. I know that I will make it to the top as a manager without having to know a thing. I mean, just think of most of the bosses you’ve ever had. Weren’t they all just a bit… well, you know… s-t-u-p-i-d?

I love being stupid! I get to try all sorts of new things and if they don’t work out, nobody is surprised or shocked because they didn’t expect anything I do to work out anyhow. And if it should happen to work out, they’ll figure it is probably just dumb luck!

I love being stupid! I have tons of friends because nobody wants a friend who is smarter than they are.

I love being stupid. I never worry about getting anywhere on time because people just figure: “Here comes stupid – late again.”

Actually, there is only one disadvantage I can think of to being stupid. It is that I can’t rent myself out as consultant because nobody wants my stupid advice.

©Sheila Moss 1999
Edited for length
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Brrrs, I’m Freezing


Why, oh, why is it so cold in city offices in the middle of summer?  They keep the air conditioning so low that it feels like Antartica most of the time.  I wouldn’t be surprised to see a penguin go strolling by.  I really don’t get it.  It’s not just one office either – every office is the same way.

If nothing else, you would think that offices would prefer to save money on utilities by not freezing everyone to death.  I have to wear a sweater nearly all summer and even then I am still cold.  I could use earmuffs and mittens, but it would be pretty hard to talk on the phone or use the computer.

Someone told me that offices are kept so cold because men wear suit jackets and they get warm.  Perhaps that is the case. Perhaps it is just another instance of female discrimination. If that is true, though, why are restaurants and movie theaters the same way?  I can rarely enjoy a meal in a restaurant without shivering thru the whole meal.

I suppose theaters operate on the premise that they must stay a little cold because the presence of a large audience will warm the auditorium and it will soon be uncomfortable.   I’ve pretty much leaned not to go to a movie without dragging a jacket along, no matter how hot and sweltering it is outside.

It isn’t that I don’t like air conditioning.  This is the South, folks, and it gets hot here.  We need air.  In fact, it can be a real emergency when it quits working.  I’ve tried complaining about too much of a good thing. But apparently it is just too hard to keep large buildings evenly cooled.  After technicians “fix” the air, it seems colder than ever. I secretly wonder if they are teaching me a lesson about complaining.

Maybe the office is really a science fiction movie and my body temperature is being gradually lowered so I can be put into suspended animation. Bring me some hot coffee, quick!  My brain cells are definitely beginning to slow down.  Am I the only person being frozen to death at my desk?

It really is difficult to use a keyboard when my fingers are stiff with cold and my lips are blue.  I am sure one of these cold mornings when I come in to work; I will need an ice scraper for my monitor.  It is really no wonder that people are sick all the time.  It is freezing cold inside, but when you walk out the door the heat smacks you like a blast from the furnace. Someone suggested reversing wardrobes and wearing sweaters and boots in the summer and lightweight dresses in the winter.  Maybe that would work.  My toes get so cold sometimes that I get up and walk around to prevent frostbite.

You are probably thinking that I am just “cold natured.” Maybe I am, but I don’t think I am the only one. Other people complain of how cold the air conditioning is too. I don’t know if the cooling and heating technicians think they are doing us a favor by giving us extra coldness, or if they just want to be sure we don’t get too warm and go to sleep.  Or, maybe they are trying to build up the character of the office staff with suffering?  I don’t know what the solution is.  Maybe a portable space heater under my desk or a heating pad to put my on my feet?

I think I will take a “thawing out” break and see if I can find a warm spot any place.  If I don’t return, send out the rescue team with a thermos of warm brandy. I’m so wired from drinking hot coffee I can’t drink any more. Maybe I could light a fire in the recycle bin and keep warm like the homeless do.  I have always heard that death from freezing is an easy way to go.

On huskies, I think there’s a blizzard on the ninth floor and it’s moving our way!

©Sheila Moss 1999
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Tips & Tricks: Keeping pets safe during a heatwave by PDSA

Dear Folks, This info is so important, I wanted to share it with my readers. If you read my column on a regular basis, you know that I love both cats and dogs. Please be sure your animals have water and shade during this heat.


Hi everyone,

Please find some important tips from the vets over at the PDSA team for the current heatwave. (At least we have one here in the UK :o)

Pets can’t tell us when they’re too hot or uncomfortable in their fur coats, so it’s important for us to ensure they remain happy and healthy in the heat.  PDSA Vet Vicki Larkham has put together ten top tips for pet owners:

hot weather cat 1

  1. Never leave pets in cars, conservatories or caravans. Not even for just a few minutes. Even on a cloudy day the temperature can rise very quickly, and you may end up being away for longer than you anticipated. Heatstroke can be fatal and every year we hear sad stories of pets that have died. For more information see the national campaign Dogs Die in Hot Cars.
  2. Provide plenty of fresh, clean water. Pets need constant access to this, so…

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Elvis Land

Yes, it’s all true. In Tennessee we do worship Elvis. Everyone in Tennessee knows all the words to “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Hound Dog” by heart. It is  well-established that nearly everyone in Tennessee has natural musical talent, and can play a guitar proficiently, by ear, without lessons, which makes us appreciate even more a super star like El.

We think so much of him, that nearly everyone in Tennessee has at least one painting of him hanging prominently in our home, preferably done on black velvet. Of course, you already suspected this, didn’t you?

At least once in a lifetime, the entire population of Tennessee makes a pilgrimage to Graceland, shrine to the King of Rock & Roll, and his home while in this world. We just want to be close to the place where the King once lived and walked. Kind of makes us feel all tingly inside to be so close to his ghost — at least we believe it is a ghost. Some claim that Elvis is not gone at all, that he still lives and is faking his own death because he was so tired of fame and the responsibility that comes with it.

The faithful believers have spotted the King in various locations all over the world, still in sideburns and a sequined jump suit, with his pelvis still wiggling, even after all these years. Of course, you heard about all this, didn’t you?

Elvis was really two people, even when he was alive, you know. There was the young Elvis, with the surly lips, pelvic gyrations, and sideburns, who many think was the true Elvis; and there was the mature Elvis, a parody of himself, who wore sequins, performed his own songs, and eventually became dependent on drugs, unable withstand the pressures of his own notoriety. Perhaps his “afterlife” is exaggerated, but the effect of his influence on music and culture is undeniable.

Elvis was one of those people with a genuine charisma that somehow captured the hearts and imaginations of the youth of his time. That is why the dream of every young person in the 50’s was to someday own a pink Cadillac. In Tennessee we have become accustomed to people laughing at Elvis, at his tackiness, at the unbelievable absurdity of a hillbilly truck driver turned millionaire pop star. He was a caricature of irresponsible spending and gaudy taste. But you knew all this too, didn’t you?

Since his death, many have grown rich exploiting his legacy. He probably has more imitators than any performer in history. Elvis has become larger in death than he was in life, as so often is the case with those so easy to stereotype and so difficult to understand.

Perhaps those who laugh at the absurdity of Elvis are less tolerant, less accepting of differences, and less understanding of diversity in others. Yes, without a doubt, Elvis lived a strange life, trapped and strangled by the limelight of his own spectacular success.

Elvis is a legacy that we accept in Tennessee. He is a classic example of success and fame leading to downfall. He is a person that we admire and yet pity. His success was so noteworthy that people everywhere still speak of him in the same breath with Tennessee, especially Memphis.

We laugh at him even as we weep. Yet, his death is a reminder to us all, that we must strive to be more than great, we must also continue to be worthy of our greatness. But, you knew this too, didn’t you?

And, in my opinion, that is the true legacy that the king left for Tennessee and for all who seek fame or attempt to fill his blue suede shoes.

©Sheila Moss 1999
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I hate to complain, but…


Have you been unsatisfied, done wrong, or felt cheated by a company and sworn you’ll never do business with them again?  Of course, you have.  We all have.  But did you do anything or just let it go?  If you’re like me, its hard to find an address, set down and write a letter, find a stamp, mail it, and wait forever for a reply. You’d rather just chalk ’em off your list and deal elsewhere.

I’ve been reading an article on corporate responses to customer’s email.  I must admit that I’ve found complaints to customer service via email to be pretty effective.  Nearly all the larger corporations have web sites nowadays and someplace on that site there is usually a button saying, “contact us” or  “customer service.”  I love it because I can sit down while I’m still gritting my teeth and write to the head honcho.  I have had some amazing results.

I once purchased a nice cheese box to be shipped to my sister. She received the gift in good condition and on time – but there was no card telling her whom it was from. Spend money on a gift and trust a company to send it, then the receiver does not know whom it’s from?  Thanks goodness I thought to ask her if she had received it.  (Hope she wasn’t too disappointed it was not a secret admirer.)

Anyhow, I did my thing, found the web site and sent an email to customer service. They later emailed me back, apologized for the error, sent an apology card to my sister, and sent me a coupon for $5.00 off on my next gift purchase. Instead of just being mad and never buying their dumb cheese again, (Actually, they do make pretty good cheese.) they were given a chance to make up to me for the mistake and won back my loyalty and business as a future customer. Once I received a full refund of $200 for a seminar that I went to and found totally stupid and useless — seems the company guaranteed satisfaction.

According to an article I recently read about a survey of companies and how they respond to email, Texaco was fastest in their replies; Hewlett-Packard took about 30 days (Not so hot), and MCI may never respond.

I can’t think of company that I’ve ever had to write that did not respond. A few times they even called me personally.  I give my name, address, and phone number so they will know I’m not kidding. I’m sure there are probably some companies out there that do not have a good record, though. These are the ones to put on your “never again” list.  If it’s really bad, you might write Better Business Bureau or the FTC and see how they like “them apples.”  Legitimate companies want you to be satisfied.

Remember: Without customers, they are out of business!

Now, I’ve written on this topic before, and other people tell me they have had good results from legitimate complaints by giving the details, and sending it right to the top.  Email makes your complaint a matter of written record and saves the time and trouble of a phone call, which may not even be recorded, or a confrontation with a sales clerk who may not have the authority to fix the problem.

Sure you’ve got better things to do than complain, but your complaint may bring financial compensation, and/or make things better the next time.  At the very least, you’ll have the satisfaction of giving ’em a piece of your mind — for free!

©1999 Sheila Moss
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The Grand Ole Opry

Nothing is more associated with Tennessee than country music, and nothing is more associated with country music than the Grand Ole Opry.  Many southerners grew up on a steady diet of country music and love it.  Others have an attitude that seems to vary from being perplexed to indifference to hatred.

A joke about country music among newcomers to the Nashville area is, “If you live here long enough, you’ll get to where you can almost stand it!” This author was among those who thought it unsophisticated and hated it until, after suffering a personal loss, I had the radio on in the car and was shocked to hear the singer voicing my feelings exactly. That is the way it is with country music.  It speaks to the soul.

Whether you love it or hate it, no trip to Tennessee or Nashville would be complete without a visit to the Grand Ole Opry, rightly billed as the “shrine of country music.”  This is the long standing variety show where older country stars got their beginning. Even now, some of the biggest names in entertainment are associated with The Opry and perform there.  The show has become legendary and several shows are performed in the Opry House every weekend, unrehearsed.

A visit to the Grand Ole Opry will easily show why it has reached the level of legend that has come to be associated with it. With tickets as low as $35 per seat, it is without a doubt the biggest professional entertainment bargain you will every encounter.  The Opry House itself is plain, comfortable and functional. The atmosphere is casual, more like a ball game or movie than a live stage performance.

People munch on popcorn and watch the three-hour show, which is almost continuous with only brief pauses of a few minutes.  Fans leave their seats and walk forward to the stage to snap pictures of favorite stars. Yet, there is no chaos, but complete order and almost an awe of what is going on. The performers and audience alike seem to be caught up in the nostalgic aspects and enjoy being a part of history, something somehow greater than any one performance.

When attending it is necessary to “let go” and get into the spirit of the music to enjoy it. It is folk music — music of the common folk.  The songs are about loving, lying, cheating, drinking and common life.  It is interspersed with unsophisticated comedy acts, a bit of dancing for variety, and toe-tapping, fiddle and banjo playing.

When you make a reservation for the Opry, you never know who will be performing.  The lineup is announced Wednesday prior to the show.  Probably the most interesting aspect of the whole thing is that it is live on the radio, and live radio commercials can be heard by the audience and seem to tie the various parts of the show together. Part of the show is also carried live on cable television. The cameras are there filming and monitors show the audience what the television audience is seeing. It is truly amazing how everything continues to flow and the show goes on without interruption.

Why is it called the Grand Ole Opry?  It seems that way back in the 20’s when the show first began, it followed a radio show of classical music. The announcer made a crack about the Grand Opera being followed by the Grand Ole Opry and the name stuck.  It is, of course, about as far from opera as music can get.

Nashville is now a cosmopolitan southern city with live theater, an orchestra, and a ballet.  But the roots of southerners and of Tennessee and the heritage for which they will probably always most be known, is still the music of the common folk, country music.

©1999 Sheila Moss


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It’s a New Grandchild


Recently some good friends had an addition to their family, a grandchild.  Of course, everyone thinks that their own grandchild is the most special, the cutest, and the most wonderful grandchild that has every been born, and they are no different.  It must be an ego thing, an instinct for the survival of their own genes and continuity of the species. Yes, they can blame it on nature instead of pride and human vanity.

They checked out the baby to see whom it “looks like.”  It has its “daddy’s ears,” it has “mother’s nose;” it looks “just like grandpa.”  In truth, all babies look pretty much alike, soft, wiggly little creatures with heads too big for their tiny bodies, so big, in fact, that the little neck cannot even support the big wobbly head for a long while.

The grandparents look at the baby, goo and coo and talk baby talk, none of which the baby can comprehend, of course, though it does seem to listen and look toward the sound of human voices.  Some feel that the baby hears even while still in the womb and has learned to recognize certain voices.

Every gurgle and grunt is a delight to the adoring grandparents, and they give their own interpretation to the sounds.  The baby has no comprehension at all of what it is saying and is simply discovering its own vocal chords.  Grandparents, however, can scarcely wait until the baby learns to imitate sounds and begins to learn the first words of language.  They are in such a hurry that they even try to put words into the baby’s mouth, certain that the baby is already attempting to communicate.  “He said ‘dada,’ I know he did!  Isn’t that cute?”

The baby’s natural grasp is another source of delight. Silly grandparents. They are sure the baby is holding on to their finger because they are so special and he wants to show his affection. His little grin, probably from a gas bubble, is a smile to them and another source of pleasure. They do not care at all that the baby is bald, toothless, wrinkled and a bit too pink.  The baby is their grandchild, their bloodline, their genes!  This is the most wonderful baby there ever was or ever will be (at least until the next grandchild).

Now babies do really disgusting things — they soil themselves, they belch, they pass gas, they cry, they slobber, they spit up. It is okay because, after all, the baby is “just a baby” and does not know any better.  And the very best part is if baby does something really gross, they can always pass him off to mom or dad until it is taken care of. Grandparents don’t have to feel responsible for training or discipline. Grandparents can spoil the baby to their heart’s content.

Grandparents really enjoy their newly found role.  Too bad they didn’t find out about it sooner.  It is much better than being a parent. “The baby is so smart!  Probably those great genes he inherited.”  He learns a new little trick every day, playing with toes, rolling over, and crawling. “Let grandma rock you. Aren’t they sweet when they are asleep?”

“Yep, wish we could have found out about this grandparenting stuff years ago,” they say.  “Wouldn’t it be great if we could skip the parenting all together and just go straight to being grandparents?”

Guess it would be sort of like skipping the meal and just going straight to desert.

Copyright 1999-2016 Sheila Moss
Revised 2016
Posted in Family, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Time Traveler


I have always been a person who looks forward instead of backwards, who lives in the present instead of the past.  It has always seemed to me that is the best way to live, to learn from the experiences of the past, but to keep my thoughts and energy focused on the future.

I am not nostalgic.  I don’t know where my high school yearbook is, or really if I even still have it.  I don’t save sentimental memoirs.  While some folks are “pack rats” and save everything, I tend to follow the philosophy that when something has not been used in a year, it isn’t worth saving.

I’m not interested in genealogy.  I don’t keep in touch with distant relatives or old friends.  I moved here from an another city where I lived for four years and have never been back to visit. In fact, I go back to the city where I lived for 20 years only because my immediate family is still there.

In view of all this, I have had a very unusual week.  I joined an online community that encouraged me to get in touch with groups that I was once associated with but left behind as life went forward and day to day living took up all my time.   At first I felt a bit reluctant to provide the information asked for, but finally I filled in the blanks and dates: where I went to school, where I went to college, and where I grew up.  The computer searched the data bank and names came up of people that I could contact who went to the same school, or lived in the same town.  I did not recognize anyone, but there they were.

The way the on-line community works, a request is sent to a person with a common interest, and if the person is willing to have you contact them,  you are automatically notified.  When my first contact came, it was a person who went to my high school at approximately the same time as me. What a strange feeling. I went to high school with this person, but we both went in different directions to live our lives apart and without ever knowing each other.

My next contact came and it was someone who lives in the small town where I grew up and spent my childhood. I had almost forgotten that the little town even existed; yet here was someone who lives there today. The town is still alive, still there after all these years – changed, I’m sure, but so much a part of who I am.

And so the plug that held back the past was pulled.  As I revisit old places, I am getting in touch with a part of myself that I somehow lost.  Finding my roots?  Yes, I suppose that is it.  No matter whether we wish to admit it or not, all those places, all those people, all those ghosts from the past still live inside us – indeed are us. I was flung backwards and traveled through time to another place in another life.

I have heard that life travels in circles. If this is true, perhaps we can only know where we are going when we know where we have been. And so people who were there but are now here has mysteriously united the past and the present.  Life goes on as it did before, but something came together for me.  I remembered a person I used to know long ago and I was the person.

©Sheila Moss 1999

NOTE:  Are you nostalgic? Do you stay in touch with people from your past? Just wondering.

Posted in Family, Humor, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The New Chair

desk chairI’m writing to you from the literal lap of luxury – my new chair.  Now a new chair may not seem like much, but to me it’s a tiny bit of heaven. There was really nothing wrong with the old chair.  In a way, that was bad because it made the decision to replace it even more difficult.  But, every time I sat down at the computer, it seemed like that old chair became harder and harder. I tried to soften it up with a cushion, but even that did not help.  Finally it became obvious; the chair was ridiculously uncomfortable and just had to go.  I decided the time had come to treat myself to a new computer chair.

Trouble is, I’m not very hard to please.  I sort of had in mind what I wanted and anything halfway close seemed okay.  But that was the problem with the old chair.  It seemed good enough, so I bought it without really considering long-term comfort.  Actually, it was such an improvement over my former chair, a borrowed straight back from the dining room table, that I felt blessed just to have wheels.

My former real computer chair was one of those inexpensive little armless office typing chairs. You know the kind, a seat and a back on wheels.  The burgundy upholstery matched the sofa, and the chair would fit into my tiny computer corner.  It was functional, but HARD… man… that chair was hard as a rock!

So, I went from store to store shopping for the new chair and feeling a bit like Goldilocks at the Three Bears house.  This chair was too small, almost like my old chair with arms added.  That chair was too big, obviously made for a man’s body; my legs could hardly bend. This chair had nice feel, but the back was too low.  Finally, there it was at the third store, a chair that was JUST RIGHT.  It fit my frame and had every thing I wanted.  And the price was just about what I wanted to pay.  As soon as I sat down to try it, I knew this was it – my chair.

The salesman came up and said, “Could I help you with something?”

“Just wheel me out to the truck!” I replied.

Now, I have arrived!  I’m telling you this new chair is pure heaven.  It is soft buttery leather that sinks when you sit down and cushions your buns like a baby’s bottom. Then there is that wonderful lumbar support in back.  And it has a high back so I can lean back my head to think and rest my neck  And it has arms…nice soft leather covered arms!  I can adjust the height so my feet touch the floor and adjust the tilt so I can lean way back if I want to rest. But it also fits up close to the keyboard and has room for my elbows inside the arms.  I’m telling you, I’m like a queen with a new throne.  This is a great chair.

I spend a lot of time in front of the computer.  So, why not have a comfortable chair in the spot that I use most?  I write here, surf the net, watch TV, and sometimes even eat at my computer.  It really takes so little please me; a small item like one new chair, and I melt.

Guess, you think I’m pushing chairs, and I’m gonna tell you where I got it?  Nope, find your own chair.  I’m gonna rock myself to sleep.

©1999 Sheila Moss


NOTE: Tell me, what sort of chair are you sitting on right now? Do you like it?

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Sorry, I Can’t Take Your Call


Voice mail is one of those “love/hate” kind of things.  Some people could not live without it, while others still have an aversion to talking to a recorder .  Never mind the convenience of it all, being able to leave a message when no one is there to answer.  It is deeper than that, not unlike the aversion of some primitive tribes to having a picture taken for fear it could steal their soul.

Some people are sure that the electronic message system will somehow twist their words and make them come out in a way that was not intended.  This can become somewhat of a “self-fulfilling prophecy.” Being nervous while talking to a machine can cause the words to come out wrong and before you can take them back, your words are recorded for posterity — your soul has been stolen.

Ever mess up when calling someone and make yourself sound like a blithering fool? This is not so bad if is just a friend or family member, but could it be part of the reason texting is so popular? When making a professional call, we hate having our verbal inadequacy made a matter of record. Businesses do not usually have a text message option — at least not yet.

Some people, apparently, do not mind sounding ridiculous.  Some, in fact, leave an answering message on their own system that sounds like it was made under gunpoint in extreme duress.  You know the kind:  “Hello-this-is-Dr. Jones’-office-we-are-not-in-the office-now-please-leave-a message-at-the-beep,” all done in monotone.  On the other end of the spectrum is the too cute, too friendly, too eager type of message.  “Hi!  THANK YOU for calling!   Your call is important to me!   I’ll call you back as soon as possible!” How long is “as soon as possible” anyhow?

There are a few holdouts that still refuse to set up voice mail. They expect people to actually call back if they are not home or the line is busy.  Seems the phone company has even covered this base now, however.  The other day I made a call and instead of the busy signal I usually get when the line is busy, I was offered the recorded option of leaving a message. People without voice mail were probably one of the last frontiers for the information age.

I called the phone company to see what was going on.  Seems this is a “service” that came from my own phone company. I can leave a message on the phone company’s equipment, and it will continue to call the number until the phone is answered, or for a certain number of calls, or for a certain amount of time — or maybe even for 3 years or 50,000 miles, who knows?  This is all for a fee, of course.

It really is hard to imagine how someone gets by these days without voice mail.  It is almost annoying when an actual person answers the phone.  Here I am all puckered up and ready to record when a real person picks up the phone.  How dare them answer!  Then I am stuck with actually talking to them instead of just leaving a quick message.

People sometimes joke about letting their voicemail call your voicemail. While the recordings are talking to each other, real people could get a lot of stuff done.  We could even make up an original answering message instead of using the canned ones that come with the voice mail services. The worst message I’ve heard recently was from my credit card company, whose recording advised me: “If you want to end this call, hang up.”  Guess they figured I wasn’t smart enough to figure that out.

Even cell phones have voice mail nowadays. Things are getting so darn convenient we might as well just get rid of land phones entirely.  Some people already have.

Excuse me, my phone is ringing. What?  No message?

©1999-2016 Sheila Moss
article updated
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