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January 15, 2010

Mike Pound: Cell phone calls a harbinger of nothing good

My cell phone rang as I was driving home from work Wednesday evening.

I hate when my cell phone rings when I’m driving. For one thing, I have trouble doing one thing at a time. Doing two things — talking and driving — is a bit of a stretch for me. For another thing, if there is one place I figure a guy shouldn’t have to talk on the phone it’s in his car.

Most guys, at least most guys my age, hate talking on the phone. Oh sure, when we were single and hoping to convince some nice young lady that we weren’t road kill, we men enjoyed talking on the phone. Well, we didn’t enjoy talking on the phone, but at least we saw a possible payoff for talking on the phone. But now we don’t, so we don’t.

I also hate talking on the phone in my car because the only person who calls me on the phone when I’m in my car is my wife. When my wife calls me on the phone when I’m in the car, it’s never to say something that I want to hear. Something like this, for example:

Me: Hello?

Wife: Mike. I know you’re tired from working so hard on that column thing you do so when you get home I just want you to relax. Sit down, I’ll bring you a cold beer and I’ll already have Sportscenter on the TV. When you’re ready I’ll bring a nice steak and some fries and another beer. And, later, I’ll give you a nice, long back rub.

Me: Uh … OK.

See, if my wife would say something like that I probably wouldn’t mind if she called me while I’m in my car. But she doesn’t. She usually says something like this:

Me: Hello?

Wife: Where are you?

Me: I’m just about to the—

Wife: I need you to go to the store. I need you to get milk, eggs, dog food, cat food, 12 file folders, 12 folders, six No. 10 envelopes, four toothbrushes, a pair of blue slippers and they have to be blue but not dark blue. They need to be light blue. And don’t get purple like you did last time. If you aren’t sure which is which, ask someone for gosh sakes. Oh, and we need some coffee, light bulbs and a plunger. I’ll tell you why we need the plunger when you get here.

Me: Uh … OK.

That’s why I hate it when my wife calls me when I’m in my car.

On Wednesday, when I answered my phone, my wife, like always, bypassed my hello.

Me: Hel—

Wife: I need you to talk to your daughter and tell her why it’s important for her do whatever I tell her to do. I need you to tell her that she needs to change her attitude or she’ll be sorry.

Me: Where is Emma?

Wife: She’s standing right here.

Me: So didn’t you just tell her all that?

My wife didn’t say anything after that. She just put Emma on the phone. Emma, as you might imagine, had a different take on what I should do. Emma’s take was I needed to tell her mother that, because she (Emma) didn’t make the mess in the living room, the person who made the mess (her mother), should clean up the mess.

Clearly I was between a rock and an extremely hard place. Take my wife’s side and Emma will hate me. Take Emma’s side and I will have to sleep outdoors.

So, I did what any veteran husband would do when caught between a rock and an extremely hard place while talking on their cell phone in their car.

“What? I can’t hear you … I mu … be los … you. I’ll cal … yo … bac … CLICK.”

Then I turned up the radio.

Address correspondence to Mike Pound, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802, or via e-mail at mpound@joplinglobe.com.

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