Communications technology these days is amazing– there’s quite a few readers who can remember an era when there was nothing else but the phone, and phone exchanges that started with words and letters, rather than numbers (my hometown’s exchange was SKyline). Not everyone had a phone, and some areas were still on party lines. If you got a phone call, great. But if you weren’t home, you missed it. For some, a neighbor would receive the call and then they’d pass it on to you. For us deaf, it meant relying on hearing relatives, neighbors, and friends.

Today, there are cell phones, pagers, PDAs, videophones, and the like. But one innovation that I’m starting to appreciate is the use of “regular” phone numbers for IP Relay through AIM. It partially eliminates the need to go through the awkward explanation about using the relay system (and 711 helps too– rather than memorizing a ten-digit number, I can just spit out “Dial 711″). Additionally, by leaving AIM on most of the time, I can receive calls while working on other things. Plus now I finally have an “answering machine” of sorts.

But my venture into parity with the hearing world has come with its own set of bugs, and not without some amusement. I received an e-mail from IP Relay saying that I’d “missed a call.” Since I had a few job applications out, I nervously called the number, crossing my fingers. The startled recipient said, “Who is this?” and it went downhill from there. “How do you have my number?”

“Well, you called me, and I’m just returning your call.”

“I didn’t call you. I don’t know you.”

“Is your number (202) 555-1234? That’s the number that was left for me.” Guess I’m not getting hired after all…

“Uh, yes, but I don’t think I called you.” (ahah, misdialed number, or flustered hearing person covering up? Hmmm….)

“Ok. Thanks and have a good day.”

You know what happened next: “PERSON HUNG UP. ANOTHER CALL?”

Ok, so having an “answering service” of sorts isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But today I received a rather interesting message:

MY IP RO XXXXF GA(IP RO XXXXF WITH A MSG) (M) can u say umm chunk it’s frank i m over at steve s and once again you’ve gotten yourself in a wreck and u need to come talk to me (SOUNDS CALM) THK U MY IP RO XXXXF BYE SKSK

Hmm… first of all, is that “Chunk”? Could be Chuck, but Chunk– what an interesting nickname. I definitely can visualize what a “Chunk” looks like– ex frat-boy, beefy, mop of hair, slowly growing beer belly? Or maybe he’s a butterball– a real “chunk,” if you will. Maybe it’s his frat name, and he took a chunk outta something?

Frank. Hm, he’s being awfully frank here, wouldn’t you say? Sounds like Steve isn’t too happy… Maybe it’s something to do with wrecking the car? Skipping out on a debt? A gay love triangle? Something FUBAR’ed at work? Why is Frank so calm? Where’s Steve, and did he ask Frank to call? Maybe he planned to call, and Frank realized Steve was too angry, so Frank took over? Of course, the obvious question: where the hell’s Chuck/Chunk? I checked the bathroom, the hallway, and outside my front door– no Chuck/Chunk.

I knew we deaf are equal to hearing folks in a lot of ways, and in others, there’s a lot of catching up to do. But I definitely feel in sync with my hearing brethren today. Whoda thunk parity could be measured in an answering machine message?