I try to be a force for good in the world. I’m concerned that if my eventual aneurysm came today, people would remember me as a cynical or bitter or negative person. This memory would be more or less accurate, but I hope those same people would reflect on how many fights they have (not) seen me start, how demanding or difficult I have (not?) been, and how much all my hot air has warmed their faces and their hearts. Unfortunately, I get vocal about my frustration with the little absurdities, but I often neglect the bright sides, at least out loud.

Like right now, for example.

“To leave a voice message, press one or just wait for the tone. When you have finished recording, hang up or press pound for more options.”

So: who’s left? What resident of the first world remains for whom these instructions would be considered new, necessary or useful? The first commercially viable answering machine was put on the market 35 years ago, and the first voicemail system went online in 1979. We’ve just about got the hang of it, don’t you think? There is no person, no addled grandmother anywhere left in America going, “Jim, this is– wait, what? Tone? Then I hang up?”

I think the reminder to hang up is what sets me off. I imagine half the voicemail messages I leave begin with me sarcastically saying to the automation, “Thank God you were here.” Thankfully, the robot does not instruct you to talk into the phone. “At the tone, please record your voice message– no trying to fax anything by screeching into the receiver, now!– by saying the words that you want the other person to hear. Well, you won’t actually record your voice message; I will take care of that. All you have to do is talk as if you’re talking to the other person. After the tone! After the tone. Wait. Let’s start over.”

I’m not above wasting five seconds here or there. (Obviously.) I just always feel those five because they weren’t my idea. Of course, the fact that I hear the voice mail instructions often enough to be bugged by them suggests that I actually am stupid enough to need them; after all, I could just press one, couldn’t I?