We have a phone problem at our house. We can't ever find one. Despite having two cordless phones, they are always missing. Or uncharged. So if you call the house, odds are the phone won't be answered, because the kids can't hear the phone in their room, and with their cordless phones missing well, let's just say that we miss a lot of calls.
We have two regular phones as well, but the one the bedroom has a very, very short cord, and the one is the kitchen is wonky and staticy, so making calls has been a real challenge lately. Receiving them is even worse.
So I have been trying to order a new postage meter from Pitney Bowes, after someone broke the cord on my old label printer. Got a good deal on the new meter, after emailing back and forth with their rep (a fine Wisconsian named Jodi). All she needed was credit card info, so I made the mistake of telling her to call me. After all, I had four days off from the "real" job, so catching me should've been easy, right?
Nope. It turned into a real game of phone tag. Phone rings in the morning, about 8:15 or so. I had been up late, watching a strange bevy of movies, so I was still in bed. DD comes in and tells me that someone called for me, but she told them I was asleep. I actually wasn't, but she didn't know it, and didn't get me for the call. I asked who it was and got the typical teenaged response of "I don't know, maybe it was work." I looked at the caller ID, and realized it was Jodi, but didn't call her back right away (I'm not a morning person). Took a shower. Ran errands. Came back to a message to return her call at my convenience.
I finally gave up trying to even return her call till I could get a new cordless phone, to try to ensure that we'd actually make the connection. Got a set of FOUR Panasonics: one for dd's room, one for the pit known as the ds's room, one for the kitchen (to replace the wonky one) and one for the living room. Fail proof, right? Nope. the phones have to charge for twelve hours before you can use them. I was in the basement, working, and way in the distance, I hear the phone ringing. Dash upstairs, run to the bedroom, and miss the call by ONE RING.
Oh no. I call and leave Jodi a message to call me. Waited a few minutes, then decided to go down and work on inventory for a bit. Of course, the minute I get there, the phone starts ringing. DH was in the kitchen, standing next to the phone, and I'm in the basement, so I yell upstairs "grab that, I'm expecting a call."
Phone keeps ringing.
I am dashing up the stairs by the second ring, yelling "answer that! I'm waiting on a call. I really need to talk to them." Third ring. Keep in mind that on the fifth ring, it's going to voicemail. I'm flying up the stairs like a madwoman -- the same stairs I fell down and broke my elbow on a couple of years back -- yelling to get the phone.
It starts talking to him. It's saying "call from, Appleton, Wisconsin." Hubby yells "what the hell is that?" I'm yelling for him to answer the phone and I'll tell him in a minute. "Why is it talking to me?" "It's the voice of God, telling you to answer the damn phone." Get upstairs on the fourth ring, with him staring at the phone like he's never seen a phone before, and I'm yelling "ANSWER. THE. PHONE." He's yelling, I don't know what button to push. Where are my glasses?"
I grab the phone, talk to poor Jodi like a crackhead with a doubledose on board, but now I FINALLY have a postage meter on the way. Next thing on the agenda is a pair of glasses for the hubby.
Yep, the caller ID talks to us. Reads whatever the caller ID says. DS13 heard it for the first time today, and just yelled "COOL," laughing in his typical weird way. Of course, we REALLY got a laugh when dd called, and the phone announced "call from OOTER, Lisa." What's the problem? It's not OOTER, it's Utter or, as hubby says, "like butter, without the B." Of course, it's Swedish, and in Swedish, it's OOTER, so I guess I now am the proud owner of a phone with Swedish caller ID.
It's a smorgasbord of madness at our house, and that's no joke. But if you want to make a call, grab this vintage 70s phone purse, from La Pochette Vintage Purses, on the web. In red, of course. Caller ID not included.