1. At work. I'm a barista, because that's a grown-up job to have. As a barista, I am not allowed to carry my phone on the floor. Hopefully you're not the school calling because one of my children has had an accident, because I'm really not allowed to answer my phone. Baristing comes first.
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| I am currently unable to take your call, as I am cowering under this blanket in terror. |
3. Driving. Totally not safe to answer the phone under those circumstances. It's even illegal in some states. I'm a risk-avoidant rule-follower, so obviously, the phone will just have to keep ringing.
4. Thinking about driving. I'm going to be driving in a minute. I'm already in that mental space. Your phone call will just have to wait.
5. Having panic attacks every time the phone rings. The last time it rang, I threw it across the room, and proceeded to hide in the closet until the terrifying sounds went away. The sound is off now, and I've hidden the phone under a stack of pillows for good measure.
6. Filled with guilt for not returning your last phone call. I'm so filled with guilt that I don't even know what to say to you...so...maybe I won't say anything at all.
7. Not sure whose number this is, and I have a great fear of the unknown. What if you're someone from work wanting me to cover a shift I can't cover, but I answer, freak out, and accidentally say "yes" in a fit of panic? What if you're the Anarchist's friend's mom? What if that, huh? You're all nice, and normal, and want to set up a play date, and I'm all awkward and scared, and hear the word "playdate" and panic, because no one who is willing to host a playdate can possibly be sane. You're probably a psychopath, and it's never wise to answer the phone for a psychopath. Or what if you're some nice friend? The sound of your friendly voice will fill me with guilt for not having called you sooner. I will not be able to speak. I will choke on my tongue and die. Phone calls can be fatal. Best not to answer, in any case.
8. In the shower.
9. No longer in the shower. But I was in the shower two hours ago, at which point I hid my phone and promised myself that if anyone called, it would be completely ethical to pretend to be in the shower for the next three hours, so as to safely avoid phone calls. This is reasonable. This is how everyone does it.
10. Waiting for your warning text to alert me to your impending phone call. I'm sure you're planning on doing that, right? Because that's a need I have. A normal need. A need that all of the people have...not just me.
11. Eating.
12. Afraid you might be someone with good news. Good news is not to be trusted. Also, I don't deserve good news (because I am a jerk who doesn't answer her phone). This whole scenario is highly suspect. Please hang up and text me with some bad news. I'm really good at bad news. And texts.
13. An introvert. The internet has convinced me that this is the only, all-encompassing excuse that I need. I really love the internet.
14. Certain you hate me. Why else would you be calling me? You're either a complete stranger, or you know me. If you know me, you know my phone phobia. You know you shouldn't call me. You clearly want me to suffer. This is some diabolical plot to give me a heart attack. Well, I'm not falling for it. In fact, I've thrown that vile torture instrument across the room. It's currently lodged in a pile of dirty socks where it can't hurt me anymore. You'll have to kill me directly, by shanking me in a dark alley, like a respectable person.
15. Currently searching for my lost phone. Don't worry. It'll turn up, submerged in an Americano, under a pile of wet leaves, or in a snow puddle in the street. Or ya know, buried in a dirty clothes pile where it belongs. Leave a message and I'll
*Or am I?
