The Answering Machine

The original mission statement of this blog, if it's something more than just an outlet for my ramblings, was to showcase incidents of history being reflected through our pop culture. To show what we can learn about our culture and history by digging through the entertainment of decades past.

Let's take a side step down a similar hallway for a moment. And allow me to showcase something from my own history that's reflective of our cultural development.

I'm a fairly technical guy. I'm not the biggest geek on programmer row, but I've become pretty involved with the tech of our time. I strongly believe in the advancements our society is making, and I'm quick to adapt something new. I've already mentioned how the iPad has changed my life as a comic book collector for the better. When I'm at work I never take notes with a pad of paper and a pen. To me the efficiencies of writing things down in my iPhone and transferring them to OneNote when I get back to my desk far outweigh the drawbacks of a physical system.

But it wasn't always this way. In fact, it took me quite awhile to embrace my gadget leanings.

I remember clearly the first time I ever spoke to an answering machine. It was the fall of 1983 and I was a gawky, awkward, smelly, dorky, eighth grader. I was also the Patrol Leader of our Boy Scout Patrol. I don't even remember the name of our patrol. But I do know that our group was comprised of the rejects from all the other patrols. The nerds. The comic geeks. The guys that the rest of the Boy Scout troop wished didn't exist. We submitted a name for our patrol to the Troop leader that celebrated our difference and ballyhooed our nerdism. It was quickly shot down. I don't remember what our original idea for the name was, but we were dejected by our consistent rejection and took a boring, standard name. The Panthers, or the Cougars, or some such nonsense.

The Boy Scouts sucked. Hard.

At any rate, I was the designated Patrol Leader of a patrol made up of comic geeks. Natch. And it was my duty to call every patrol member on Monday afternoons and find out if they were coming to the Troop meeting that night. I did this every week dutifully. And, as it turns out, I was the only Patrol Leader that actually did it. I was able to make my report as to who was present, who was absent and why, and who was unaccounted for.

Impressed? Neither were my crappy Scout Leaders.

I remember calling the home of brothers and Patrol members Brad and Tom one Monday afternoon. Their Dad answered, but sounded a little off. I sprang into my spiel, asking to speak with either Brad or Tom.

It took me a few moments to fully realize what was going on. Brad and Tom's dad was not... interactive. He was speaking some sort of message and giving me instructions. I slowly realized what was happening and got a little excited about the whole thing.

At the beep, I gave off my standard, scripted Patrol Leader message trying to get the information I needed and asking to be called back. I didn't know that Brad and Tom were on vacation, and I wouldn't speak to them again for a whole week.

Once off the phone, I ran upstairs to tell my mom. An answering machine!! I spoke to an answering machine! Brad and Tom have an answering machine! Those dudes must be rich!

Mom was not impressed. She saw no reason for the technological horror that is the answering machine. To this day, if she hears the phrase "call waiting" she spits on the ground and stamps twice to ward off evil demons.

When Brad and Tom got back from vacation, they were just as excited as I was. Although, from the other side of the coin. They, of course, were the super-advanced duo that had such technology and I was just the guy on the phone. However, they were a little jazzed to actually have a call for them get recorded on their Dad's new answering machine. Even if it was from their dorky Patrol Leader reading his dorky script for his dorky task that no one else took seriously.

Even amongst geeks, I'm considered a nerd.

These days we take the phone for granted. I'm annoyed by the space my desk phone takes up and we don't even have a land line at the house. How archaic. I carry around the world's most advanced pocket computer in my khakis. Why would I want to bother with tethering myself to the wall in order to make a call.

But thirty years ago, my first encounter with an answering machine was mind-blowing.

Thanks,
DCD