Is Stacey there?

We have lost something.

There was a certain charm in having to call a girl at her parent's house when I was a teenager. It was a huge ordeal to call, especially if she didn't know how you got her number (don't ask). First off, you had to dial the number and if you messed any of it up you had to start over. That's hanging up and waiting for a dial tone. Sad was the soul who errantly misdialed the phone and got the wrong house. And lest we forget the dark days of the rotary dial phone.

"Hey, um, is Stacey there?"
-WHO?
"Is this Stacey's house?"
-No. I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
"Oh, sorry."

That's just a punch in the face. Got all worked up. Braved the process and got shot down with a misfire. Now you got pony up some new courage and try again, Mr. Idiot pants who can't dial a damn phone.

The second punch in the face comes if you dial the same number again and the person answers, but a little more miffed.

"Hey, um, is Stacey there?"
-NO. Wrong NUMBER."

These moments... oh my... they leave a mark.

The third time you misdial the number, you just hang up as fast as you can when you hear their pissed off voice. The teenager who can't dial the right number is the whole reason you would hear, "That's it, we are getting an unlisted number!"

The STAR system of home phones ruined the ability to hide from pissed off misdials.  STAR 69 could allow them to call you back and torment you. STAR 67 gave them your number. I know there were other STAR functions but really, who used any of those?

The point was... They knew it was you! Now you've irritated a complete stranger and you're being rude about it.

Okay, so you finally get Stacey's number right and the phone rings. Now you have to stand in your kitchen or living room near your parents, who are watching TV, trying to find privacy so you can say what you need to say and not embarrass yourself. It's hard to talk sweet when people are listening. People who know you're not sweet but really stupid, and find your attempts at woo-ing Stacey adorable, are listening closely and making your dialogue impossible to voice. There are times you think that your parents and "Stacey" are in cahoots with each other and are just trying to kill you with embarrassment.

Stacey will ask you a deeply personal question and you have to figure out how to answer it with a series of awkward "yes's","no's" and possibly a "maybe." So many conversations were destroyed with single word answers.

"Tell me. Tell me the truth! Why do you like me?"

-Oh... Yes.

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I don't trust people over 35 because I know they have all been trained how to lie effectively during phone calls. We're all masters of the deceptive "uh huh."

All phones were attached to a wall with seventy-five feet of curled cord which could somehow re-curl itself in a fashion that was completely unmanageable. You never hear of someone using phone cord to strangle someone, or hear of someone trying to use phone cord as rope. It was pure shit stuff. I don't know where all of it went, but somewhere there is a cat sitting on a mountain of this stuff losing his mind. I was the King of figuring out ways to knock stuff over with the phone cord on accident while talking on the phone. For those of you cursed with a cordless phone, I have no idea how you survived. The fact that you could find the phone is amazing. 

---

The real test of your mettle of course is when you actually call Stacey's house and you hear someone pick up the receiver and it's her parents - or someone other than Stacey. No matter how many times you call, you never get Stacey to pick up the phone. Because she's an idiot like you. When you call, there will always be a buffer. It's the buffer's job to make you as nervous as possible before you talk to Stacey.

"Hello?"
-Uh, yeah. Hi. Is Stacey there?
"Whose calling?"
-Um, I'm Daniel.
"Yeah? Daniel who?"

Questions are mental speed bumps. They are there to slow your mind down and make you look like more like an idiot than you already are.

- Is uh... just Stacey there?

If they say "Hold on" and go get her, you have obviously dodged a bullet. However, if they put the phone down and leave you sitting there listening to the distant TV playing in the background, you've done something wrong and there is a good chance Stacey isn't going to come to the phone.

The worst thing that can happen is to hear whispers plotting an evasion of you. You would think more tact would be employed in these moments, but apparently stupid isn't just a male trait.

The whispers say,
"Who is it?"
-I dunno. Some guy.
"What did he say?"
-Nothing. He wants to talk to you.
"Tell him I'm not here."
-I already told him you were here.
"Well, tell him I just left."

Suddenly the phone picks up.

"Yeah.. Uh, Daniel? She's out. Can I take a message?"

It's a wonder that dating occurred at all in these conditions.

The torture to this process is something that has been lost over the last few generations. The process of having to talk to the girl's parents before you talked to her is perfectly, awesomely, horribly wonderful. And we need it back. It may sound stupid now, but in that brief exchange were such glorious moment for parents to taunt and tease the hump-happy suitors of their "Stacey." And it was an equally great chance for slick, hump-happy suitors to work their charm on out-of-touch parents. The generation of cell phone children have dodged this awkward bullet and that's horrible. Hell, most of the time they don't even talk to each other. They can communicate without the labor of using their voices. That's so sad. Think of all the horrible pain they are missing out on.

I grew up in a part of the country which used party-lines. For those of you that don't know what this was; it was a type of phone line where more than one household used a line. This means that you could pick up your home phone and hear your neighbors having a conversation. And you couldn't use the phone until they were done. BUT, if you were slick, you could just listen in. Sadly, no one ever got juicy in my neighborhood. Unless you think crop reports or gossip about banking standards is juicy stuff. And if they caught you listening in, you felt like a dick.

I miss the process of having to call the phone company and have them come out and install your line. Then having to purchase a phone that you felt was "you." I had a burgundy rotary dial phone. I always wanted the football phone which was offered with the yearly subscription to Sports Illustrated, but, alas, it wasn't meant to be.

This last bit of embarrassment which needs to be shared is something that pains me to this day.

As you were talking to Stacey and perhaps the conversation was getting deep. As deep as it can get for 16 years olds, then suddenly... your dad would pick up the phone in the den and say, "Daniel, it's time for bed. Get off the phone"...and then abruptly hang up. There are no words to describe this shame.

I'm going to leave you with that. It is bed time.