This call's for you

Several years ago I had a couple of friends come to visit while I was still living behind the Orange Curtain. At dinner one evening, Michael, my friend from Ohio — arguably the driest wit of anyone I’ve ever met — astutely observed, “That guy’s ready to take some calls.” I swiveled in my booth to see the middle-aged man over my shoulder dining with a lady companion … with a cell phone ear-piece thing-a-majig wedged tightly in his right ear. 

Maybe it was the way Michael said it, but his master-of-the-obvious observation made me erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. I’m not going to lie; making fun of people is fun. Plus, the guy did look like was ready to take some calls. Eating his enchiladas, he looked at the ready to conduct some serious, perhaps world-shaking business — on his ear-piece … at Taco Surf .... with sawdust covering the floor and Sublime blaring from the speakers. 

I wondered: “Does that ear-piece make him feel important? Does he want me to infer that he’s such a baller that he can’t take a vacation from his cell phone to gulp down some shredded beef?”

I wondered what he told his date. “Sorry, sweetheart; but love me, love my ear-piece.” I decided then and there that the guy was a complete rube. 

Since that time, I’ve watched as more and more people strolled the streets, seemingly talking to themselves on account of the ear piece whatchamacallits being out of my line of vision. I’ve seen people laughing hysterically in their cars, and others appearing to shout at no one. (I assume most of these folks have ear pieces in, or Bluetooth®-enabled cars. But as I do know the danger in assuming anything; I concede it’s entirely possible they are just laughing at something their friend said three years ago, or screaming at other drivers, like I am generally.)

Alas, less than three weeks after the hands-free law passed in California, I officially joined the brotherhood of rubes. I am a bona fide, card-carrying member of the nerd herd, made official by my purchase of the Motorola Bluetooth® Headset H710. The initiation fee? A mere $86.59. 

I’d be lying if I said that I purchased my headset solely because it’s now law. I’m not a diehard law-abiding citizen, but I don’t have a particularly lengthy rap sheet, either. I bought it because I nearly took out a motorcyclist on Saturday trying to navigate my way across three lanes to exit the southbound Long Beach (710) Freeway while on the phone. The cyclist gave me the finger. While I don’t like getting the finger, that alone didn’t compel me to purchase the headset either.

I bought the hands-free device because I started to let my thoughts run wild. I imagined that I’d accidentally hit the cyclist. Then I started thinking that the investigators on the case would suspect that I was hands-full on the phone when the tragedy happened. And they’d be real mad at me for disobeying the law, and I’d try and say I had it on speaker, but I’d get a nervous tic and they’d know I was lying. Then they’d be extra mad that I tried to lie, and then they’d lock me up in jail and throw away the key forever. I wouldn’t be granted any sort of celebrity justice, either. 

So first thing the following Sunday, I marched into the Sprint store, let them convince me that I NEEDED the noise-reducing headset and joined the hands-free movement. Then I drove around for a bit trying it out.

I’ve got to say that for a foreign object hanging on my ear, it’s pretty comfortable. It’s also got voice command, and the sound is quite clear. And I begrudgingly admit it weighs less than most of my earrings. All the same, wearing it totally makes me feel like I should be saying “Breaker! Breaker! This is Big Dog. Do you copy, Little Goat?” That is, I feel a wee bit silly wearing my new ear jewelry.  
In fact, after driving around for a bit, as I sat eating my brunch with my Motorola Bluetooth® hands-free device clipped securely to my right ear, I was pretty confident that the girls at the table next to me were laughing at me, undoubtedly thinking “That chick looks like she’s ready to take some calls.” And I am. Especially in my car.

Contact Jen Hadley at jmhadley624@yahoo.com.