Fun with phones.

The creation of global cellular phone networks has been a boon for personal communication. Now we rarely out of touch, with each other, calling and talking from our cars from Knoxville to Riyadh. Through text messaging we receive tornado warnings, Amber alerts, and personal notes. Never in human history has it been easier to communicate with each other across the globe. For me however, the greatest personal boon of the cellular revolution is:

Catching people with their ringer on in church.

Here is how it works:

I notice that it’s approaching 10:30 AM (In the morning) on Sunday, and I think to myself.

“Hmmmm. I haven’t called dad on a Sunday morning in about six months”.

And so I dial.

And his phone rings! His phone is on! It could be on mute, however. The next step will let me know.

It rings three, perhaps four times and it picks up. I don’t hear him, I hear prolonged scratchy audio that sounds like a raccoon is cleaning the phone with cotton swabs, and quiet and tinny in the background I hear audio gold:

Faint preaching!

I’ve done it!

I laugh maniacally into my phone and after several seconds, the phone hangs up.

I laugh a good long, private belly laugh and wait for him to call back.

The ultimate forgotten ringer experience, the holy grail of church service embarrassment is the Funeral Interruption. As my mother is a church musician, a chronic ringer forgetter, and I know her funeral schedule in advance, it is relatively easy for me to pull it off, but at what price?

[Moral disclaimer follows]

The willful cellular interruption of a funeral service is a wanton act of audio violence. It is an unspeakable animal act of technical barbarism that shows no respect for the human conventions of love or family.

[End moral disclaimer]

That said, I’ve been itching to pull off a funeral interruption for quite some time, but have to pick the right funeral. Ideally, I would pick one where my dad was present and my mom was working and then call my dad and he would face the double whammy: Embarrassment and my mom’s wrath.

There are always consequences to one’s actions, and the biggest consequence is that there are times that I forget my ringer, and find myself sweating with shaky hands as I frantically turn off my phone before the dreaded call. So far, I have yet to be caught in church with my phone ringer on, although not for the lack of trying on the part of my mother, father and sister.