Recent studies show that the best way to communicate with Generation Y members (ages 16 – 34) is to text them. The second best way is through an email and
the third best way is through Facebook.
This study also indicated that phone calls are now viewed as an invasion
of privacy.
BRB, the stupid phone is ringing…
I’m not Generation Y, but I couldn’t agree more. Several years ago, The Dad and I decided to
get rid of our home phone – or land line.
During a 30 day period, we used the phone a total of 29 minutes. Approximately 27 of those minutes were
annoying calls from marketers and politicians and homeroom moms, “Can you bring
fourty-eleven dozen cookies by tomorrow morning at 8:00?” See?
Intrusions!
It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good chat with family and
friends – I do! It’s just that I prefer
to do it when I’m not cooking, cleaning or going to the bathroom. I do have some modesty after all!
I’m not sure at what point the phone call became
obsolete. I remember even just 10 years
ago, when we gave birth to our first child, I purchased a phone card and made a
call list for The Dad to use when informing the dozens of people who were
anxiously awaiting for our daughter’s arrival that she was finally here. Last week, a friend of ours had a baby and within
five minutes of his birth time, we had the text announcement, a photo and even
a video!
Technology is moving faster than the speed of sound…
particularly the sound of conversation.
This, as much as phone calls set me on edge anymore, makes me a
little bit sad. Just the other night, I
actually texted The Dad, who was in the living room working: “Good night.
Love you.” Well, actually I texted someone who’s phone
number ended in 8 instead of 5, but the point is that I didn’t think twice
about “telling” my lover boy good night through a text!
I’m grateful for the texts, though, because sometimes I just
want to say something quick and informational, like “Kids eat free at the pub
tonight – FYI” or I just want to drop a quick hint (see above text) and don’t
have the time or necessity for a full-blown conversation.
On the other hand, I’m just as ansty to get an answer when I
actually do take the time to call. Take
last month, for example, when I really, really wanted to go to the pub – where
kids eat free – and I tried calling The Dad, repeatedly, and got no
response. I left dozens (yes, dozens) of
voicemails and had to wait about 20 minutes before I got a frantic call back
from him.
“What’s wrong, honey?
Why so many calls?” he asked.
“I just wanted to go out to eat tonight,” I replied.
“And you got me out of my meeting to ask me about THAT?” he
said with a huff in his voice.
That, my friends, is why I prefer texts: You can’t hear someone huffing at you!
