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

[wldhrsjen3.livejournal.com]

I hate the telephone, unless I'm speaking with long-distance friends or family. And my entire extended family knows how I feel about the phone, so we have prearranged calling times. My mother and I always speak on Monday mornings. Thus I happily fix myself a cup of tea and wait for her call, or take my turn calling her. The most irritating thing is when Someone Else calls me on Monday mornings while I am expecting a chat with Mom. (Yes, I'm a nerd. I don't care.)

And we've had an elderly woman call us periodically for *years.* She goes in cycles, apparently. She'll call every night for two weeks asking for "Ethel" or "Martha" and when we gently explain she has the wrong number, she will tell us we're mistaken. We're mistaken? Um, ookaaaaay....Then she'll get tired of us and we won't hear from her for a month or so. And then, out of the blue, she'll start calling again. Drives me batty.

I've learned not to answer the phone if I can avoid it. Thank goodness for the internet. :)