Dear People Who Leave Voicemails,
I want you to take out your phone. I don't know how you have your phone organized, but what you're looking for here is a green icon with a speech bubble that says 'messages'. Open it up. These are called text messages and they are THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE WAY TO LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR PEOPLE.
Okay, sorry for the capslock freakout but honestly this is a very serious issue because I'm pretty sure that 'voicemail dread' is the leading cause of anxiety in America. What is 'voicemail dread'? Voicemail dread is what happens when you fucking leave people voicemails because voicemails only mean one thing: somebody is going to try to make you do some shit for them. The worst type of voicemail dread, of course, is when you have a voicemail from a number that you don't know because you have no idea what kind of bullshit is awaiting you. When you see you have a voicemail from your landlord or your mom or something then at least you know, “oh right I totally did not send out my rent check” or “Nana def died” and you have time to smoke a bowl and figure out a plan for returning their call. When you have a voicemail from an unknown number it could be anything. That's where the dread comes in. It's like, I know that this is most likely the bar saying that they have my credit card (again) but I cant help wondering if this is some kind of fucked up nightmare scenario and it's my high school principal letting me know I never really graduated and I have to do all of school over again.
I've seen Billy Madison, okay? That shit can happen.
I think—and I'm totally not sure about this because I basically blocked out every memory before smartphones—but I think that there was a time when voicemails were useful for like, figuring out who called while you were away or some shit, but then some Pro invented caller ID and Steve Jobs gave us the iPhone and we elected a black president and now we don't need that old school bullshit anymore.
Now when I see a voicemail I immediately think that I'm in trouble because there's some shit I have to do/forgot to do/have been avoiding doing that finally caught up with me or that I'm going to have to like, call my family because they are “worried I'm dead” or something because they haven't figured out that if they want to know what I'm up to they should they should just follow me on Instagram.
At this point, I'm calling for a law that makes leaving someone a voicemail a hate crime, but while my bill makes its way through Congress I'm writing you this letter to tell you to cut that shit out. Mom, landlord, doctor, cable bill people—whoever you are—-just stop. Text me. For the love of God, text me. This is the 21st century and any respectable conversation is typed, not spoken.
But hey, on the bright side, thanks for that last panic attack. I have a prescription for Xanax now.