Telephone dilemma

Anyone who knows me very well knows I don't like to talk on the telephone.  If our home phone rings, it's usually for Cliff, not me.  My cell phone seldom rings because I forget to keep it with me; often when it does ring, I run through the house trying to locate it, and the caller gives up before I can find it.  Most folks figure it's a waste of time to call my cell phone; I'm not likely to answer it.
Cliff's youngest sister, who lives in St. Louis, usually calls on Thursday nights just to check in .  Even though I don't always hold up my end of the conversation very well, I do look forward to her weekly calls.  
Yesterday Cliff bought a pickup load of river sand which he's going to dry, sift, and use for sandblasting.  He spread some out on his shop floor, and some on the floor of the garage his sister, Rena, parks her car in.  I happened to be looking out the window when Rena arrived home, and I saw that she didn't pull in the garage, but parked out front of it.  I immediately knew what the problem was:  She was unsure whether she should drive in on the sand.  I grabbed the cordless phone and took it over beside my chair, sure she'd call and ask what was going on.  I didn't want to call her because after a long drive home from work, I figured she needed a little time to take her dog out to potty, and perhaps use the facilites herself.  
Well, she didn't call just then; but about fifteen minutes later, Charlene called my cell phone; time for our weekly chat.  At exactly the same time, the home phone rang.  I looked from one phone to the other and finally made a decision to answer my cell phone and tell Charlene to hang on a second.  
By the time I did this, the home phone stopped ringing.  But I looked to see who the caller was.  It was Cliff's sister, the one I'd been expecting to call ten minutes earlier.  Oh well, I'd call her back when I was done with Charlene.  
Perhaps five more minutes went by before the home phone began to ring again, only this time I saw it wasn't Rena; it was a neighbor down the road who probably just wanted to know if I've found any morel mushrooms.  So I ignored that call, which wasn't easy, trying to concentrate and talk to Charlene with the $%&@^# phone ringing.   
Finally the ringing stopped, but the silence wasn't to last.  Within three or four minutes it was started again; this time it was Rena calling.
"I'm going to have to let you go and answer the phone," I told Charlene.  "It's Rena, and I'm pretty sure I know what she wants."  
Indeed, Rena only wanted to know she whether could pull into the garage, just as I had suspected.  
Even though I called Charlene back, our weekly call was pretty much ruined, what with not being able to concentrate, plus all the interruptions.  Oh well, maybe next week will be better.  
I tried to return the missed call from my neighbor, but by then she was gone.  
Is it any wonder I hate telephones?  

Why must it be so difficult?

Cliff's youngest sister, Charlene, lives in St. Louis. Since they moved there, she tries to call me every Friday night, just to keep in touch.

Yesterday evening she called and asked what I'd been doing the past two Friday nights; she's called and left messages, and I haven't returned her calls.

Now I've been known to ignore messages on my phone, figuring the person will call me back if they want something. But I didn't remember doing this. In fact, I couldn't even think of a reason why I didn't just pick up the phone and answer; Cliff works evenings, and I don't drive. It's winter. Where would I be? Possibly the hot tub, because I do like sitting in the hot tub on a starry night. In fact, after I thought hard, I remembered that my daughter's girls spent last Friday night here, and the three of us did indeed spend some time in the spa.

Still, what happened to the messages?

So this morning I dialed my home number from my cell, to see what would happen. The home phone's answering message said its piece and beeped. Then a totally different answering message played on my cell, and beeped. I left some little message, but of course it wasn't going onto my home answering machine. Where on earth was it going?

Cliff said, "Why is it so hard to just get a simple telephone that works?"

"I don't think it's the phones causing the trouble," I answered. "It's us."

We just weren't meant for this technological time period.

So, I turned the answering machine off. It's all I know to do. But guess what? My cell still takes me to a voice mail when I call my home phone.

Embarq

I've spent much of my afternoon on the phone with Embarq.

On May 14, the telephone man came to hook up a phone at our new location. Now, I had told various Sprint employees that we had to have a line run, that our new home is in a location where there's never been a house or a phone. I could tell it wasn't computing with them, but whatever.

The telephone man was supposed to arrive between ten A.M. and noon that day. He finally showed up around 4 P.M., after I made many calls to Sprint. See, they had already turned off DSL and telephone service at the old house. When I called to see why I had no service, they said, "Oh, that's been switched to the new location."

Yeah, the new location with no telephone lines at all. How's that gonna work?

The telephone man ran 500 feet of wire on the ground from the old house, across our back yard behind the shop to the trailer, and had the phone company switch my service back to the old house.

He explained that they'd have to run lines under the road and up here (duh) and he filled out a work order for May 25. When nobody showed up by May 27, I called, but that call was mysteriously disconnected about the time I started raising my voice. Hmmmm.

So today, over two weeks after the 500 feet of line was placed across our yard (very unhandy when Cliff's mowing the yard) I called again. This time even the customer service person seemed shocked at how long it's been, and said they'd have the contractor who does excavation for buried lines call me. Which he did.

He says it's the rain preventing him. Which seems strange, since you could have tilled in the garden most days this week. Yes, we've had some rain, but not that much. Oh, and he just received my work order one week ago. He does live in Springfield, Missouri, about 165 miles from here; so he covers a wide area. Some nearby towns got seven inches of rain a couple of nights ago, while we only got 4/10 of an inch. The guy says he hasn't been able to work all week and is going to work Father's Day weekend; by the time I hung up, I was feeling sorry for him. At least I do have a telephone and Internet, so far.

I will say, this puny line has been working for me. The telephone man who strung it across the yard told me my DSL probably wouldn't work like this, but so far it hasn't failed me (knock wood).

Anyhow, the contractor said he'd do his best to get the line in next week.

I've fought this issue for so long, it's getting to the point that I don't much care. As long as my Internet works, that is.