Just a Rash

Remember you used to only have the one telephone? Had a wheel on the front (ZZZZIK-zika-zika-zik) and a curly cord between the handset and base. My cousins had TWO phones (albeit on a party-line). But they were posh. Here at the command centre we currently have 4 handsets on the landline, 6 mobile/cell phones (3 in use, one broken, two “wrong colour” – I don’t ask), ADSL and LAN…all in a small 3 bedroom house. Yet when the phone rings, we usually miss it because nobody can find a handset. Found one in a basket of laundry the other day, found another outside under the dogs’ bed…again, I don’t ask.

Used to be a phone made a suitable weapon in a pinch. You don’t see a bad guy in a movie beating someone to death with a Blackberry. You don’t see big afro-haired dudes strolling the ghetto with an i-Pod on their shoulder either. I go outside now, I feel like James T. Bloody Kirk. The Mother Ship can and does call anytime for any reason. Need milk, can’t find the dilithium crystals…its always something, and usually right in the middle of another staff meeting which is spiraling down into an orgy of blood, back-stabbing and gnashing of teeth. My phone rings, all the bickering stops and suddenly I face silence and a collective look of scorn. A snort is heard near the back.

One of these days I’ll answer it, listen intently, then hang up and say “My wife. Good news, its not chlamydia after all. Sorry, what were you saying?”