Scott and SadieOhhh yes. Let’s talk about the ancient rite of passage that was calling your friend’s house and praying to every deity available that their mom or dad didn’t answer. Because nothing quite says “I’m about to die of secondhand embarrassment” like a landline phone, a shaky voice, and the very real possibility of having to engage in polite small talk with someone’s father.
First of all, kids today don’t get it. They just text “yo” and wait. Zero fear. Zero tension. Meanwhile, we were out here dialing 7 digits (or 10, if you were fancy), heart racing like we were calling the FBI, not just trying to see if Timmy could come play. The second that deep, adult voice picked up on the other end? Immediate panic. Fight-or-flight activated.
“Hello?”
Oh God it’s the dad.
“Uh… uh… is… is Timmy there?”
Please don’t make this weird. Please don’t make this weird.
“Who’s calling?”
WHO’S CALLING? Sir, I’m 11. I barely know who I am.
You had to identify yourself like you were applying for a job just to ask your friend if they wanted to ride bikes. And God help you if the parent actually wanted to chat. Suddenly you’re talking about school, the weather, their recent knee surgery—while your friend is completely oblivious, probably upstairs playing with Legos like a traitor.
And don’t even get me started on the sheer humiliation of being told, “Sorry, he can’t talk right now, he’s doing homework.” Oh. Cool. So now I sound like a degenerate who’s interrupting someone’s path to Ivy League greatness. Excellent.
Worst-case scenario? You get the wrong number. And now some stranger knows there’s a kid out there who doesn’t understand how phones work. Click. Instant shame.
These days, kids don’t have to deal with any of this. They’ve got Snapchat, DMs, Discord, whatever. No parent interaction. No voice trembling. No risk of being sucked into a five-minute conversation with Janet, the overly friendly mom.
So yeah, if you survived the pre-cellphone era of making calls like a nervous telemarketer just trying to see if your friend could come outside—you’re a damn warrior. And you deserve respect. Or at the very least, unlimited screen time.
