Telephone etiquette

[desperance]

I am famously antagonistic towards telephones. We never had one till I was a teenager, and I've never been comfortable with them; I don't have a mobile, and rarely use the landline. I may be over-reacting, therefore, or misinterpreting a commonplace. But. I hate it, hate hate hate, when the phone rings and I answer it with my usual "Yes, hullo?" and the voice at the other end says "Who's that speaking, please?" or near equivalent. It seems to me extraordinarily rude: they called me, which means they should know who I am; they're the stranger in this relationship. Also, this is my home which they have chosen to invade, so ditto ditto. Either way, it's theirs to declare their own identity, rather than demanding mine. And I usually say so, quite sharpish.

It's almost always a wrong number, of course, which doesn't improve my temper. Of course it is; people who are intentionally phoning me tend to know who's going to be answering my phone, ie me. I don't mind them checking, "Hullo, is that Chaz?" or near equivalent; it's the blank stranger-to-stranger demands that really rile me. It's an extension of the inherent intrusion of making a phone-call in the first place, the assumption that it's okay to interrupt me unannounced; to heap Ossa upon Pelion by backing that with the assumption that it's okay to interrogate me before ever they identify themselves just enrages me.

Or am I being precious and mimsy...?

Comments

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

I think it's cluelessness; add it to the long list of things no one is taught to do any more, because it's not worth anyone's time and trouble to bother, until people a grown and set in their ways. Years of working for the government and having to call people (with careful training in How To Do It Right) as well as receiving calls from the public, has convinced me that this something that has to be taught, which is a shame. But saying "Hello, this is X (add business/office/organization etc. as appropriate), I'm calling to speak to Y/may I speak to Y?" isn't really that hard, once you know how, and makes life so much simpler in the long run. It lets people know what they're in for; if you've got a wrong number they can tell you that calmly, without having been badgered into a State, and if it is them, they can either say so, or think fast and say "Y's not here."

There's a reason I use the answering machine to screen calls, and it's because my time, once I'm home, is worth it. Especially in this age of the robo-caller, and an election year.

[julesjones]

I have, on a couple of occasions, had a wrong number that refused to accept that they had called the wrong number, and insisted that I was lying to cover up for the person they wanted to speak to. The one that phoned my hotel room at 3:30 am was particularly annoying...

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

I had a regular little old lady caller for a while, who refused utterly to believe she had the wrong number ... She would ring again and again during an evening, and we often had to leave the phone off the hook, just to stop answering the phone. Switching on the answerphone did not deter her as we would then hear her talking to her friend, saying things like 'Brisingamen, brisingamen, we don't know anyone called brisingamen.' Then there was the night she didn't put the phone back on its cradle properly ...

[wldhrsjen3.livejournal.com]

Heh! We've got one of those little old lady callers too! She refuses to accept the fact that there is no "Martha" or "Ethel" at our number, and when we try to tell her that she has the wrong number, she tells us we're mistaken!

She hasn't quite given up yet...

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I had this, too. "Is Mike there?" "There's no Mike here." [amused tone] "Is this Megan?" "No." "Do you know when Mike will be back?" "Presumably never, as there is no Mike here." [pause] "Do you think you accidentally switched cell phones with Mike at a party?" "This has been my phone number for two years now. I don't switch phones with people at parties. There is no Mike here." "Geez, sorry!"

Two hours later....

This kept happening and happening, because the hapless Mike had apparently given out my cell phone number as his cell phone number, far and wide. The capper was when the phone rang at 3 and I didn't get to it in time. I heard the little "there's a message" noise. Then it rang again, and I picked it up and grated, "MIKE IS NOT HERE BECAUSE THIS IS NOT HIS PHONE." A chagrined voice on the other end said, "Oh. Um. Sorry. Is this [my number]?" I said, "Yes, and it's my phone, not this idiot Mike's." "I'm very sorry," said the pathetic voice.

In the morning I listened to the voicemail. Same pathetic voice: "Um...Mike? Weren't you going to pick me up at the bus station when I got to town? Because I've been waiting here in White Bear for an hour and a half now, and it's getting kind of cold...." Poor schmuck. I hope he makes better friends than Mike someday.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

We had a variant on this when the University (well, one of the colleges) gave out our number: we had to deal with a number of parents who Knew What Students Are Like, and weren't going to be fobbed off that easily.