FURTHERMORE
By Gerry Moran
I got rather nostalgic last week watching the news and seeing a huge chapter of my life being wheeled away by heavy machinery! The items in question were the P&T’s public phone booths now consigned, not to the scrap heap, but to the recycling heap.
And, with them. went a part of my life, a part when I was dating, courting, call it what you will, but a part that was very much dependent on the public phone booth. Not having a phone in our home the phone booth was my only connect to the one I loved, or thought I loved, or wanted to love.
In this age of instant connectivity I am in awe as to how we, boys and girls, managed to keep in touch. But we did. And those of you of a certain age (ie. my age) will understand too well the vagaries of the public phone booth, its unreliability and the godawful uncertainty with Button A and Button B.
Following is a short piece I wrote re. same which appeared in the Evening Press thanks to the Features Editor Seán McCann (father of renowned author Colum McCann and hailed by Con Houlihan as “a brilliant features editor”) who published many of my short pieces in the Press back in the ‘80s and for which I am forever grateful. The piece is a spoof but not without an element of truth which will resonate with folks my age.
How to make a phone call
It may seem rather presumptuous of me to dare instruct adults, such as yourselves, as to how to make a phone call. Forgive my arrogance. But you must remember that when one is dealing with such a temperamental entity as a public telephone booth nothing, and I mean nothing, can be taken for granted. Several phone booths of my acquaintance are prone to severe bouts of schizophrenia.
One evening they are perfectly normal kiosks which work the next evening they are non-functioning nervous wrecks (emphasis on wrecks) which refuse entry and turn their smashed backs on mankind. Hence the necessity for the following steps which I thoroughly recommend when attempting a telephone call from a public coin-box.
Step 1. Lift receiver and listen for dialling tone, assorted static, crackling and the possibility of overhearing a Taiwan Toy Manufacturer conversing with a retailer in your local main street.
Step 2. Should you perchance hear a dialling tone prepare to insert coins into allocated slot. Prepare also to resort to violence to make coins fit in said slot. The use of a sledgehammer would be rather extreme whereas an average sized hammer is highly recommended.
Step 3. Proceed now to dial required number. A simple enough task in broad daylight but at night with the booth’s bulb in smithereens about your feet – a hell of a feat. Smokers fare better in this scenario thanks to possessing a cigarette lighter or a box of scratchers (ie. matches).
Step 4. Your number rings Halleluia. Halleluia. Halleluia. A voice answers. Glory be to God and the Minister for Posts and Telegraphs. Press Button A. Press again. Try a thump, kick and karate chop. Press again. Keep pressing. Ignore panicky hellos at the other end who may misinterpret your assaults on Button A as a prologue to an obscene phone call. Keep trying. You may cease foaming at the mouth when the party at the other end (more than likely the girl you met at the disco who gave you her phone number) hangs up.
Step 5. Press Button B for your money back. Press again. Try a kick, thump and whatever you like. Feel free to indulge in foul, very foul, language. But it won’t unfortunately get your money back.
Epilogue. Before you have a meltdown, or breakdown, leave the phone booth immediately. Now. The door, however, is jammed. Won’t budge. You extricate yourself through the shattered glass panel. You cut yourself. Nothing serious. A minor artery maybe. You feel dizzy. Faint. You collapse. A crowd gathers round. “Ring a doctor,” a voice commands. You try to warn them but it’s too late, you black out, and the booth door won’t open!
