Obviously, engaging in phone sex with your mistress while the wife leaves her plate of farinata with sage, onions, and Niçoise olives to powder her nose is just being a dick. What about taking a call from the BMW auto repair while waiting at a bus stop? Or talking to your frat bro, in line at the post office, about where you found beer barf? Planning a virgin sacrifice on Lammas during a board meeting? (Well, that one would be excused, nay, encouraged, if you're a lawyer, marketing or advertising executive, or employed by Microsoft). And my favorite: standing in the supermarket, arguing with your lover over what size cucumber to get for the sexjam occurring that night.
Typical of cel phone conversations, each of these paralyzingly personal revelations needs to be repeated as carrier signals flutter across the spectrum. So innocent passerby are subjected to:
"I got the…the…hello? I got the surgical tubing…yeah, and the Crisco. THE CRISCO! Hello?!? I got the Crisco! Yeah. So just…are you still there? Just keep the yak in the tub! In the tub! Keep him in the tub! THE YAK! KEEP THE YAK IN THE TUB UNTIL I GET BACK! BACK! HELLO!?!?? Damn cel phone…"
My favorite cel phone revelation, however, is when someone accidentally hits the redial or speed dial, gets your answering machine, and suddenly, you are privy to a slice of their life. This has happened to me twice so far. First, there was a long run of simple music, definitely coming from a car radio. In the middle, however, came a fury of swearing fit for a drill sergeant. I recognized the voice, too…a co-worker. When I, with a grin, played his message back to him, he explained that he was driving and spilled burrito juice over his seat while eating. Is this something he wanted to reveal to me? We thought it a good joke, hilarious, actually, but what if the boss had heard it? Or a client?
The other instance involved a reporter who, after verifying that she would be doing an article about the school I now work for, went to a bar and had a little chat with one of her girlfriends. Over the din of a Chicago bar, I heard her mention the article and us, although I couldn't make out anything incriminating. But if I had…?
With the ease of one touch dialing, we all have a chance to play Gene Hackman in "The Conversation" now. A new "Miss Manners" situation arises. Should we react if we overhear something bad, rude, or incriminating? Do we have the right to boo and hiss and wave our hands at the offender like they do at the Kangaroo Court of Springer?
For now, I'll keep hoping I hear something juicy, like an assassination plot or a Mafia hit. I'll also make sure my "keyguard" function, which locks my phone unless I open the cover, is on. But you don’t have to do that.