House Phones are Ripping the Absolute Piss

Picture the scene: you’ve just come home from a tough day at work, you settle down on the couch to watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians; feet up, wrapped in a blankie, perhaps with a mug of tea in your hand. Then suddenly, just as Kourtney is pulling another child out of her own vagina, the house phone rings.

The dilemma begins.

You know it’s not for you, because your friends aren’t absolute fucktards. It’s 10 feet across the room, there’s no way you’re getting up to answer the phone when it’s not even for you. The obvious thing to do is to ignore it. Let someone else answer it. Only problem is, everyone else is upstairs or in a house phone free room (the stuff dreams are made of!). ‘So what’, you say, ‘sure I’ll just let it ring out, they’ll call back’.

But then the house phone pulls out its secret weapon: mystery.

Who could it be? Maybe someone calling about one of the 217 jobs you applied for? Perhaps your Mum asking do you want anything in the Chinese? It could even be a Nigerian Prince calling to let you know you’ve just inherited 1 billion euro. The possibilities are endless. You’ll never know until you answer it!
So you pause the Kardashians, set your tea on the table, unwrap yourself from your blankie, and trapse across the room shivering to answer the elusive call. You then see it’s your Mum, and the conversation goes something like this:

‘Hello?’
‘Hi Keira, can you put your Dad on the phone?’

I’m sorry WHAT? You did not sign up for this. You’ve already done everyone a favour by getting out of your comfort zone and going to answer the phone, and now you’re being asked, nay, ORDERED, to make the long journey upstairs to hand the phone to your father. This is beyond outrageous. You don’t know what to make of things.

‘Why didn’t you just call his mobile?’
‘Oh, I didn’t even think of that!’
‘Well can you just call it now, he’s upstairs.’
‘Keira, just put your Dad on the phone.’

Fury. Rage. Hatred. These are the only words to describe how you are feeling at this exact moment. Why would anyone even call a house phone anymore? Why is it considered acceptable for this random person who isn’t even IN your house to order you to do something PURELY because you had the DECENCEY to answer their phone call in the first place??

‘DAAAAAAAAAAAD! MUM’S ON THE PHONE’, you shout upstairs with your feet firmly remaining in the sitting room, in a last ditch attempt to save yourself from these abhorrent orders being barked down the phone at you by an unseen individual.

‘Bring it up to me, I’m busy.’, he’s busy??? HE’S busy?? What does he think you’re doing, just sitting around WAITING for the house phone to ring so you can eagerly bring it to him?? This is the worst day of your life.

Eventually you relent; the house phone wins this one. But no more. Never again shall it be answered.