There was a time when my phone would run hot. Maybe friends seeing what I was up to, wanting to catch up. Or maybe some guy I was dating and perhaps another I was trying to avoid.
It went in cycles. Feast or famine. But it was always exciting. Some calls were good, some were bad and I was never very good at screening. I just loved being called and as I lived alone, anyone was interesting.
Now life is simpler and trying to juggle work, kids and family life provides all the excitement I need. There’s not much time for chatting on the phone.
If the phone does ring, it can only really be one of two men.
The first of course is my husband who always checks in during the day. How was school drop off? What are you up to? What are you wearing? (…maybe not that)
The other is my builder, who is now well and truly programmed into my phone.
Normally the only other calls are from Mum or my agent but since we’re living with my parents while we renovate (and they are a bit over us) and my acting career is experiencing a significant pause, neither calls me as much.
However as the renovation is progressing, I’m receiving so many more calls, it’s starting to feel like the old days. Ok, so the calls are to tell me things like the quote for the benchtop is ready or the kitchen appliances are being delivered. Probably doesn’t sound riveting - but it’s fairly exciting for me.
However as always, some calls are good, some are bad and I’m still not good at screening.
Last week after two trips to a family-run tile shop, I finally chose my kitchen tiles. I then rang and placed an order with one of the owner’s very lovely daughters.
Moments later my phone rang. Not a number I knew but as I say, I don’t really screen. As it turns out, it was the tile shop - the mother telling me that I would have to pay for a courier to deliver the tiles to their shop unless I wanted to wait for another order to come through and share the cost.
‘When would that be?’ I asked
‘I don’t know’
‘So I have to pay for the courier?’
I was furious! I hadn’t been told about a courier charge, which would add another $15 onto my expensive Spanish handmade tiles. Not a lot I know but it’s the principal.
I said that I’d have to think about and she lost it completely.
“Well you can’t expect me to pay for it out of my own pocket!” she screamed.
I tried reasoning with her but she wouldn’t listen. I said I’d call back. Which I did and cancelled my order. Which she did then promptly hung up on me.
I was outraged.
But just as I was googling tile shops, my phone rang again. It was the daughter calling back to apologise. She was in trouble for not telling me about the courier but they’d found a way to have the tiles delivered so did I want to continue with the order?
I said that I did. I felt bad that she’d got into trouble but I stood my ground and she was understanding and gracious. They’d made a mistake but sorted it out.
That call from the mother was worth screening. But you don’t expect to be abused by the local tile shop owner. Besides I wanted the tiles.
So as much as I love getting calls and wish for my phone to once again ring hot, I’ve had as much excitement as I can take for one week.
So now it’s husband or builder.
That’s all I need.