I was the first person in my circle to get a cell phone. And back when I got it, I was touching people, bridging gaps, spreading the pollen of social joy. Par for the course in the land of Mike Payne.
But in recent years, I’ve morphed into a full-time, shadowy hermit. So all I do with my cell phone now is take fake phone calls to keep people from speaking to me face-to-face. Some irritant with news to share will cross my path:
Irritant: Hey Mike, I finally got those pictures from my hiking trip-
Me: Oooo, sorry, gotta take this call. I think my apartment just exploded.
Irritant: Dude, how many times can your apartment explode?
Me: As many times as it takes not to see your hiking pictures.
It has reached the point where I’m actually giving out fake phone numbers to my friends just so they don’t accidentally call me while I’m pretending to be talking to them. No man could withstand that onslaught of awkwardness.
Me (talking into phone): What, my illegitimate daughter was sold into slavery?
Phone: Can’t read my, can’t read my, no he can’t read my poker face.
Here’s to using the greatest communication tool ever invented as a means of avoiding communication.