Ode to the Busy Signal

My favorite blogger recently pointed me to a New York Times Magazine piece on the disappearance of the analog phone (and the land line to which it was attached). It lamented the loss of reliability in telephone communication - and how we collectively seem to be willing to live with dropped calls, conversations in which words cut out and endless beeps and buzzes when texts and "incoming email" beeps cut into a phone conversation.

I must confess that the piece got me to thinking about some of things I miss about land lines. I miss the busy signal. It's something that is so rare now, that when I hear it, I don't hang up right away. I hang on the line for a while, savoring the fast-paced beep that sings the song of my teenage years.

It went like this: there's a girl want to call, but I haven't had the nerve. I finally get the courage to call her. I dial the number with apprehension. I sweat a little. And then..... I get a busy signal.

But it was OK. The busy signal didn't connote rejection. It didn't tell me that I personally was not the one she wanted to talk to. A busy signal might also be the very thing that helped me get the courage to ask her in person if she would go to the dance with me.

If I were a teenager today, I wouldn't get that second chance. She'd either see my number come up on Caller ID and ignore it. Or she might come on the line and say - "I'm on the other line - can I call you back?" Either way, I'd be crushed and rejected. Right then and there, without a moment for cool reflection, a chance for a great comeback - or a thought that perhaps fate was intervening.

The busy signal was also my friend in business. As a reporter, one of my jobs was often to get hold of people who didn't really want to talk to me - or, at the very least, were hard to get hold of. A busy signal told me that they could be gotten. They were not only near the phone. They were on it. So all I had to do was make their phone ring while they were still near the phone. And few people could resist a ringing phone. You never knew who it was going to be - and what message of joy or sadness might be delivered. The call might be Important.

And without Caller ID, the person I wanted to talk to would have no idea I was a reporter. If I heard a busy signal, I knew that there was a pretty good chance that if I keep dialing their number they would eventually finish their call and answer mine.

It strikes me that the beep-beep-beep of the busy signal was very democratic and egalitarian. Making a call was a "first come, first served" kind of thing. So if I called someone first, anyone and everyone else who called that person - no matter who they were - would get a busy signal until my conversation with that person was over.

So I guess I just wanted to say it: I miss the busy signal.

Hanging up now......