I barely talk on the phone anymore. When I do get someone on the line, the pressure is on to make the experience entertaining. My sister doesn’t like to talk on the phone so that’s a rarity. She called me the other day and I started the call with a “ my sista my sista tell me what the trouble is.” A grossly overused Monie Love call back but I’m trying to set the tone, talking on the phone can be fun.
Her “What are you doing? “
Me “Trying to entertain myself”
Her “Are you home?’
I hate when people ask me that question. Being at home sounds so boring but I was at home. At least she didn’t ask me if I was in bed. That’s the worst.
Me “Yeah Yeah I’m home”
Her “ Will you see if we have milk?”
Not only am I home in the middle of the day but now I’m the pseudo depressed unemployed husband whose time at home is spent doing meaningless tasks like checking on milk.
We only had a little. I hesitated to give the information because I knew the conversation would be over after that.
Her” Hello? “
Me” There’s a little”
Her “ Jeez I thought you fell asleep ”
Me” my sista my sista tell me what …” I tried it again. I got interrupted
Her” I gotta go back to work. Get out of the house! Get some fresh air! Buy some milk! “
I hung up.
I can see when a conversation is over.My mother can never tell when a conversation is over. To my mother, talking on the phone is all about length of time spent on the phone. There are no quick conversations. She’ll start reminiscing about other phone conversations just to keep the conversation going. “ remember that time we talked about the pizza and how hot is was we couldn’t even eat it and we laughed? Remember that?”
Me:“do I remember the conversation about pizza? No I don’t”
Her: “it was right after..”
Me ( interrupting)” I’m not doubting the conversation happened. I totally believe you. I just don’t recall”
Her ( sing songy) : “ She doesn’t recall at all”
There are three ways to know my mother is trying to keep you on the phone : she talks about previous conversations, she starts making sing song rhymes, or she starts asking very specific detail oriented questions just to drag out the conversation that quite logically could have ended minutes ago.
Mum:” Ok so you’re going to the gym. Good for you. What are you gonna do there? ”
Me:” Probably run on the treadmill”
Mum:” Do you ever get scared on those things? I mean what if the speed just starts going faster and you can’t get off? You could really hurt yourself. Do you wear any sort of protection?”
Me:” Mum your being ridiculous. I gotta go”
Mum:”Just be careful. Call me when you’re done. Are you gonna wear sneakers?”
My entire workout was sprinkled with mini bursts of anxiety about the speed function of the treadmill. “Is the speed picking up on this thing? No I think It’s actually slowing down. No no it’s working normal. Is my sneaker untied? Why is it so hard to get a part time job? It’s the time of year”
I forgot the milk.
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle.