Some people are phone people. I’ve never been. I can talk to cab drivers about Kazakh history, tamale purveyors about regional South American cuisine, and crazy ladies about disemboweling chickens, but I can not talk to my closest friends on the phone.
Mostly it’s that I can’t pick up on conversational rhythms without seeing faces. Actually, they barely blip my radar when I don’t have an interview script. Throw a party and you’ll find me in the kitchen tossing back two drinks until I determine it’s okay to leave, abruptly.
Fortunately, Cat is the same way. We use text messages to arrange plans.
Cat: In cab. In 5 mins pls order cucumber mtini x2.
Colleen: Already did. Also made rez for table in 10 mins. Virgo.
Simple, efficient, direct. And that farmerbrown cucumber martini looked amazing.
Last week I called her at work. Probably she picked up because she didn’t recognize my cell phone number.
“Hi, this is Cat?”
“It’s Colleen. (beat) I’m looking for mascara. What type do you use?”
(very long pause)
“Pink and green tube.”
“Oh. (beat) Okay. (beat). Well, bye.”
(click)
1 comment:
You're right, I didn't know it was you.
If you really wanted more info, you would have sent a text instead of calling. In return you would have received:
* the name (Great Lash)
* flavor (BLACKEST black)
* cost (two tubes for $7.99)
* a dissertation on why it's superior to many of those fancy department store poseurs, including quality, pigment density and iconic packaging.
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