When I got into Junior High I started using the phone a lot and my
sister was already using it more then that and we had one phone at
our house and my dad was trying to use it for his business as well.
He would beg and threaten and plead and fuss and cajole us to not use
the phone from 8-6. You Know? Business hours. That was not going to
be possible in most cases because School got out and the bus dropped
me off sooner than that and those girls were not going to call
themselves. So, day after day my dad would try and call in to get
some help or information and there would be a nonstop busy signal. In
those ancient days there was no reliable alternative to a land-line
and we had neither call waiting nor voice mail. There was actually a
machine with a tape in it that would record a callers voice. So after
months of this probably loosing business and sanity my dad purchased
us a second line known colloquially as the kid phone. That one we
could use to our hearts content and leave his, and these are his
words so please excuse the vulgarity, 'damn phone' alone. Well seems
like that would have solved the problem right? Nope. Now we just had
two lines to be on all the time and my sister and I didn't need to
argue about who was using what at what time and whatnot. This,
naturally, made my dad a little bit put out and he swore out death to
the person who would dare use his business phone now that he had gone
to the effort and expense of installing a kid's phone. One day there
was a pressing emergency that I needed to attend to and my sister was
on the kids phone so I decided to call a girlfriend from the business
phone, because no one would ever know. It turned out to be a little
bit of a last straw type situation because my dad had been calling in
to talk to my mom so that she could rescue him after some car trouble
and he had been getting a busy signal on both phones for two hours.
He finally had to call a neighbor to come over and tell my mom to
give him a call. When he got home I was still on the phone and he
stormed in like a great big angry bear of hate and vengeance. He
closed in on me in my room talking on the portable phone and yanked
it out of my hand and slammed it down and while he jumped on it
yelled at me in words timed and punctuated by his big two footed
stomps on the phone. Stay (STOMP) Off (STOMP) Of (STOMP) The (STOMP)
F{redacted} (STOMP) Phone (STOMP)(STOMP)! I was terrified because I
thought I might get punched out next but he just stormed out and was
yelling and ranting all night about it. That phone was little tiny
sad little bits of gray plastic and wires beyond repair and almost
beyond recognition. At the time I thought h was a massive jerk who
over reacted, as an adult I think all in all it was a measured and
qualified response. The lesson was learned and I didn't talk on my dad's business phone until late night or Saturdays from then on.
