Analog Girl in a Digital World

As you can tell, though I am immersed in the technological, social media world, I am firmly grounded in a retro-vintage kind of realm.  My friend Elaina had made mention of this the other day, the irony of my new lifestyle.  I mean, I still have a land-line.  I buy minutes for my mobile phone at a gas station.  People ask me for my number, and I give my home number, forgetting that people don’t really call each other anymore.   I heard on CBC2 that apparently it is considered poor manners to leave a message on someone’s mobile voice mail.  Oh brother.  What is happening to the world that you can’t leave a meandering message?


I miss that…the phone ringing and the mindless gabbing.  I have one friend who does not have a mobile phone, and she even leaves me messages on my answering machine.  (I really appreciate that girlfriend!)

yellow pin up

Though my career is becoming extremely internet dependent, I still yearn for the retro elements of past eras. I miss record stores, good manners, doctors recommending cigarettes, and rotary phones.  I used to own a fire engine red rotary phone, which I loved…you know, until you had to call a government agency and you had to, oh I don’t know…press one or something.  And then you find yourself screaming “I JUST WANT TO TALK TO A REAL PERSON” into your vintage phone.  Which is not look I was going for.


So, as it stands, the land line is feeling a bit shipwrecked.  There’s not a lot of incoming action.  The occasional long distance calls, and a lot of telemarketers and my mother.  Oh, and my one friend without a mobile phone.  The phone rang the other evening, and I was preparing myself to politely dismiss someone selling products direct from their office in a call center in the third world.  And then I realize that I am getting a text message.  Through the land line.  This happened once, the summer before, when I was living at my parent’s house.  Twice the phone rang, and a robot voice asked me if I could “possibly switch shifts”, and the other time to invite me to some “candle party”.  This must be nice for folks like Rosie from “The Jetsons“; times must be tough for futuristic characters whose present is not as futuristicy as once predicted in the past.  But I must admit, I have to wonder if the robots ever see the scripts and say…”I couldn’t possibly say that”.  For when I accepted the text through the phone, I was asked a most personal question.


“What kind of IUD do you use…copper or hormonal?”.

I’m sorry, but did a robot just call me to ask about my method of birth control? Can robots even get pregnant?  And…if it wasn’t a nosy Rosie calling me about the brand my uterus prefers, who would text me that?

phone girl

Luckily, the caller had the good sense to send an email as well. And so a memorable conversation was carried on via instant message.


I offered the best advice I could, made recommendations with care.  And ultimately, I suggested that when the day came, to make sure you have a pashmina and large sunglasses for before, after, and hell, even during.  Because it’s dignified.  Because it’s a little bit ladylike. Just because it’s fabulous.  I’m kind of old school that way.


All Images Courtesy of Google

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