Angles: Voicemails both excite, frighten

Love Them

By Sara Eiesland

Mirror Assistant Editor
February 22, 2008

“Hey girl! It’s Sara. It’s about 12:45, and I was just calling to say hey! I had a great time with you today, and can’t wait to hang out again. Please, please, PLEASE give me a call tomorrow; I have so much to tell you! I have this guy friend named Tom I totally want to set you up with; CALL ME! Okay, gotta go! Love love!”

Now that is my kind of voicemail.

The point of a voicemail is to tell the recipient something. In my messages, I pack as many words as I can into the 20-second spurt I’m allowed. Plus, I’m a little bit anal retentive when I leave voicemails. If I don’t like the way my message turned out the first time, I’ll rerecord it. If I have more to say, and I’m cut off, I don’t hesitate to call someone back and leave another voicemail.

I love leaving super long, obnoxiously detailed messages on my friends’ and family members’ voicemails. I look at voicemail like a bulletin board that talks, and if you know me, you know my bulletin board is chock full of Post-its, reminders, pictures and times.

When I’m leaving a voicemail, say, on my boyfriend’s cell phone, I’ll be all cute and say “I love you” five times. Yeah, I’m one of those girls. I’ll also give him a little summary of my day so far.

Here’s an example: “Hi honey, just wanted to call and let you know what I’ve been up to. I slept in until nine, then showered and ate pancakes for breakfast. I went to class at 11, then did some homework and now I’m calling you! I love you so much and miss you bunches! Can’t wait to see you tonight…I love you! Kisses!”

I’m sure that my boyfriend appreciates the effort that I put into his messages. I also leave the same type of message for my parents, minus the whole “I love you” five times over stuff. In this instance, since I don’t see my parents every day, they welcome my slightly fanatical voicemail methods because it gives them a snapshot of my day.

When I have to leave messages for an employer or someone who requires a more serious attitude, it’s not difficult for me to shift my tone of voice and keep my voicemail concise. The point here is not to emphasize the length of a voicemail, but to make sure that the message you leave is appropriately designed for its recipient. This subtle creativity is something I thrive on in all areas of my life, and this factor of originality only begins when the answering machine beeps.

The major component of this argument is this: would you rather receive a text message or a voicemail? In a world where texting runs more rampant than Hollywood socialites out clubbing, a voicemail is a more personal way to get in touch with people you care about. Whether your voicemail practice involves exhaustive messages or to-the-point blurbs, a voicemail is, and will always be, more intimate than a text message. Besides, it takes less thumb dexterity to dial a phone number than to text. Sure, the thumb exercises are great, but when we’re talking about being cordial, a voicemail is a great touch.

I know that my voicemail technique may be a little unorthodox. But the way I look at it is this: If I love receiving voicemails full of stories or questions, why not leave voicemails in the same way? Regardless of the message’s recipient, a detailed voicemail can never be a bad thing. After all, in a world that moves faster than an avid texter’s fingers, taking a moment to leave a thoughtful voicemail is often an appreciated, sociable gesture.

 

Hate Them

By Luke Tatge

Mirror Editor
February 22, 2008

A terrifying beep. The earth-shaking sound of impending doom. After listening to an inane outgoing message, the poor unsuspecting victim of an answering machine is inclined to leave a poignant, meaningful response. Pressured with the fear of stumbling over words and equating oneself with a pre-evolutionary primate, the caller on the line is almost always destined for absolute failure.

I have an immense fear of leaving a message. This perfectly justified anxiety that answering machines cause me stems from my initial fear of using the phone in general. As a product of the 20th century, I am expected to be fully versed in the art of phone conversation. Unfortunately, I find it distressful and disconcerting.

Aside from conversing with another person who you cannot physically see, leaving a message on a machine is all the more frightening. I am faced with the undying thought of the troves of people who could possibly be listening on the other end. While my voicemails are far from Pentagon-worthy, I’m always aware of the chance that I’m being listened to and monitored. Call me paranoid, but I remain cautious whenever I hear that treacherous beep.

Then there’s the matter of checking messages. To see that box with its blinking red light, proclaiming the ominous announcement that I have a new message, incites horrifying flashbacks of a Kubrickian HAL 9000. This machine appears to smell fear. My inclination, just like Dave in 2001: A Space Odyssey is to disconnect the wily, looming beast, but I fear it will not allow that to happen.

Maybe all of this merely proves that I am intimidated by technology and belong in a decades-past era where the only thing to fear was the invention of the light bulb. Unfortunately, I am faced with answering machines and thus envy Thomas Edison’s simplistic existence. Face-to-face conversation is preferable. The time will surely come soon when answering machines turn on their human counterparts and cause unmatched destruction.

Well, this may be a slight overreaction, but the point is devastatingly clear: Reliance on this machine only leaves poor callers feeling inept and unworthy of the spoken word. Save yourself the trouble and humiliation and leave a note.