Following much giddy anticipation, I received my first voicemail today.
Because, with Vonage, voicemail is stored digitally. Okay, so it is with Ma Bell as well. But with Vonage, that digital audio file is available for playback or download through a website. It can also be emailed to you. For a girl who doesn’t like to answer the phone, this is a brave new world full of all sorts of validation (er, verification) that someone wasn’t able to get ahold of her.
I’m feeling all shivery just thinking about it.
Of course, in an ideal world, they’d be able to transcribe the message for me, and send the text through email, thereby sending interpersonal communication back into the impersonal realm that it belongs.
But I digress.
Earlier today, I left a message for mum. Later today, she left one for me. And there’s something in the compression, or the encoding, or whatever that isn’t quite up there. The message was perfectly legible, but she sounded like a chipmunk. It was devastating, and of course I was all game to hear myself, vonagified.
I pick up the phone, and dial our number. The phone rings once… twice… and then C answers.
Which was almost as surreal as walking into Mum’s neighbour’s house the other night. I stood in the hallway, wondering when mum had found the time to paint and re-decorate the place, and more importantly why she hadn’t told me she was doing it.
It took a (terribly cute) little black kid in pigtails staring at me from the other end of the hall to get the clue bell ringing. If it had been a little white kid in pigtails, I’m pretty sure I’d have been wondering what else mum hadn’t told me.
Which still doesn’t answer the question of why C’s cell phone rings when I call the house from the house.