Operator

I keep the telephone of my mind open to peace, harmony, health, love and abundance. Then, whenever doubt, anxiety or fear try to call me, they keep getting a busy signal – and soon they’ll forget my number. ~ Edith Armstrong

Some friends and I were chatting the other day, and, of course, we started chatting about “kids these days.” (Cue my mother’s voice saying the same thing, oh, about thirty years ago…..) Since I am oftentimes in the company of …. and I say this with great love and affection…. computer geeks, we were talking about smart phones. How ubiquitous they have become, not only for the youngsters but for us as well. I would *never* have guessed how attached I am to my smart phone. I love it. (Yes, I love it!) Everywhere you look these days, someone’s using a smart phone.

“Remember when there used to be pay phones on every corner? Amazing how you rarely see one anymore?” My ever-astute husband tosses that observation out, and those of us old enough to remember nod our heads.

One of the baby-geeks asks, without even slowing his twin-thumb texting while mapping directions to his buds for a meet-up later, “Like a pay-as-you-go phone? Sure!” Type, type, type with the thumbs clatters on.

The rest of us crack up. “No, an actual pay phone. You know, feed the machine a dime, dial your number and talk. Or ask the operator for help, like if you need a number or have to place a collect call.”

The frenetic typing paused, as his eyes actually moved away from his phone and up to look around at those of us still chuckling. “Collect call?”

Blink, blink.

“Operator?”

And for the rest of us, the night turned immediately into a karaoke love-fest for Jim Croce.

Sing along, if you want. He’s hard to resist.

[Note: This post is #15 of 26 of the April A-to-Z Challenge. Please see the button on the right of the page for more information.
Last year’s “O” post: Optimism.]