Cell Phones

I carry a cell phone. Most of the people in the United States carry one.

Sergeant Crowley of the Cambridge, Mass, Police Department has one. The president called him on it the other day. Crowley is the hero of this whole story. Gates and Obama are the assholes. This story is about a professional police sergeant doing his job and elitist assholes trying to make the story into something it isn't.

This post ain't about that. This post is about cell phones. Particularly my cell phone. I have a cell phone for my convenience. I pay a monthly bill on it. It's a part of modern life. But, that doesn't mean that I want to talk to every asshole who might ring me on it.

One day I left the phone in the truck. One of my many supervisors called me. Later, I was asked why I didn't answer my phone. "Because it's my phone. If you want me to answer the phone, issue me one. Until then, don't presume that I carry a cell phone. It might be in the truck, it might be on my bedside table."

If you really want to piss me off, give my cell number to someone else. I give my number to very few people. People I trust and love and care about have my cell number. My boss has my cell number, but he shouldn't assume that I want to talk to anyone else. If the President called me on my cell number, I'd probably answer the phone out of sheer curiosity, but there's no guarantee that we'd talk. The phone might be in the truck, or on my bedside table.

That's my phone. If I want to talk to you, I'll answer the phone. If I don't want to talk to you...