The personal information that you offered during your hour long phone call from your balcony yesterday evening will no doubt come in handy to all your neighbors within 200 yards who were hoping to enjoy a beautiful fall evening with their windows open. Especially the information that you like your job, but you’re not so crazy about your new apartment, as your close neighbors have already asked you to hold down the noise.
It’s nice to see someone expanding their horizons, and pissing off the further neighbors as well.
Perfect! I will remember that the next time something similar happens to me.
Imagine breaking into someone’s conversation with a loudly shouted comment.
I’m just amazed at the crappy cell service you Americans seem to have. I mean, I speak on the phone with my regular indoor conversation voice, at the loudest, yet people have no problem understanding me. For longer conversations I invariably put my earphones in, hold the speaker to my mouth, and speak at a murmur.
The problem is that plenty of people on cellphones assume, because the ambient noise around them makes it somewhat difficult to hear, that they also need to shout into the phone so the person the other end can hear. I get the same thing sometimes when my friends call my landline on their cellphone. I have to tell them to speak softly, otherwise they spend the whole conversation yelling in my ear.
Unless this is a whoosh, there really isn’t any problem with the average service; it’s the assholes who don’t bother to not yell into a perfectly good cellphone.
A few years ago I went with a friend on a multi-state motorycle trip that included a stop at Mount St. Helens National Park. At one point, while following my friend around twisty mountain roads, I saw that the lid on one of his side cases had come unlatched and was hanging open, almost dragging the ground. I tried to get his attention by honking and waving, but he was too far ahead of me and a little bit better at negotiating the curves on his bike.
It took me about fifteen minutes to catch up to him, with me laying on the bike’s horn the entire time. Remarkably, nothing had fallen out of the compartment. Throughout the 15-minute ordeal I was picturing poor hikers nearby hearing the BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEP! BEEBEEBEEEP! BEEEEEEP! and thinking I was a complete douchebag purposely shattering the alpine serenity.
It wasn’t meant as a whoosh - it’s just that after reading all these stories about people shouting into phones like it was 1995, plus the fact that your networks can’t handle iPhones and that you guys still have to pay for incoming calls, I sort of inferred that the U.S. has essentially crappy cell service.
My neighborhood doesn’t have rocks lying around. Plus, throwing rocks won’t necessarily encourage the moron to close the window–and throwing a rock through one will just ensure that more sound gets out.
Given that you kept honking when it wasn’t helping anything, who’s to say you *weren’t *a complete douchebag?
Who says our networks can’t handle iPhones? They just started out being *locked onto *a single network by firmware. Had nothing to do with the capabilities of the networks themselves. And paying for incoming calls also has nothing to do with the capability of the network.
Even further off topic …
Isn’t there some 80s (?) song (?) or something that starts off with a longish monologue about a car alarm (?) or something and an elderly (?) couple who is hard of hearing (?) or something that ends with something similar to “listen honey … bees”?
… or something. Maybe it’s the end of some anecdote I heard while some song from the eighties was playing. Strike any bells? Should I call someone and ask loudly if they remember?
The honking is what eventually caught his attention—it just took way longer than it should have. I had some of my stuff in the open case too, and I was sure any minute that say, one of my sneakers would come tumbling onto the road and over the cliffside, where it would be discovered and worshipped as a sacred artifact by a sprawl of confused marmots.
Which is not to imply that I was not, nor continue not to be, a complete douchebag.
Because I don’t have problems with loud neighbors on cellphones–I have problems with drunk chachbags stumbling home at bar time. And I can deal with them by *dropping *things from *my *balcony.
Ah, there’s the relevant bit. I thought you had no personal interest in the open case.