The Vintage Rotary Telephone

Emily was ready for some peace and quiet. The effects of this year’s annual sales conference were wearing on her. And this year’s conference was an unusually raucous one. It had been one for the books. The organizers said this year’s attendance had set a record. At the height of the conference, there was a cacophony of voices and laughter and shouts of “Hey, I haven’t seen you since last year!” or “Let’s meet in the lounge after the last session!” Sales people could be counted on to have a really good time and they were a lively and rowdy crowd.

It was four days of non-stop people, speeches, “rubbing elbows,” partying and, whew, Emily was exhausted. Finally, the conference was over. She was at the airport now and was looking forward to a week-end of peace and quiet. No people, no parties, no drinking, no speeches. Just silent bliss. She would just catch up on reading her snail mail, business emails, personal emails and social media.

Just her, all by herself. Alone. She arrived home late from the hectic conference, so Emily just dropped her suitcase, briefcase and purse and left them in the dining room. She showered, changed into her favorite flannel nightgown and fell into bed totally drained. She fell into a deep sleep instantly.

The next day, she awoke and instantly felt a strong headache. Emily suffered from occasional migraines and this felt like it might be a big one. Probably the after effects from the conference, she thought. She was actually able to get through almost half of all her pent up personal and professional emails, snail mail and social media. She spent most of her day working on these. At the end of the day, her migraine had subsided, but was definitely still making its presence known. Once it was time for dinner, she checked the refrigerator and yes, there was just enough wine left in the bottle for one glass.

She continued to alternately read her emails and social media pages, nibble on the pizza she had ordered online, sip her wine, all while sitting cross legged on the couch with her laptop in her lap. Now this is what I call multi-tasking, she laughed to herself. I’m all alone and no one is here to bother me at all. After she had eaten her fill of the pizza, Emily set her laptop aside.   Her migraine continued to pound. Relishing this rare time she had alone and relaxing, she turned on the television and started passively flipping through the stations with no particular destination in mind. She had taken more migraine medication and coupled with the pizza and wine, Emily soon grew drowsy.    The television station she selected looked like a “Movie of the Week.” These movies were usually quite dull, with unknown handsome actors and beautifully made-up actresses performing the same formulaic script. She continued to watch for about an hour anyway.

Emily thought she may have dozed off for a while. When she awoke, the same movie was still

on, because she recognized the background and location from when she first started watching.

But the characters looked different. Very different. They didn’t look anything like the actors and actresses she had seen just a while ago. She didn’t recognize any of the characters she had watched earlier in the movie. 

They weren’t the well-groomed actors from before. These people in the movie were too ordinary looking, ugly actually, with no make-up and their hair was tousled and their clothing was unkempt and looked dirty. As she continued to watch the movie, she was puzzled by the characters’ odd statements that didn’t seem to follow the story line she had been watching.  

Their statements didn’t make any sense. One said to the other, “Do you think it’s time?” The other said breathlessly, “We should do it now, while we can.”

“I agree,” said the first one. “Let’s make sure we do this right, so that no one will notice,” said one to the other. “I’m going to do it now. “Okay, do it!”

One of the disheveled women in the movie seemed to be looking for something. She searched the table tops, the book case, picked up the cushions of the chair, looked under the couch, and then seemed to find what she was looking for. “Here it is! I found it!” she exclaimed to the others in the room.

The others clapped and laughed. She placed the group’s new-found treasure on the table in front of them. Even though she had a 52” television mounted on the wall, Emily squinted at the screen to make sure she was seeing the group and the item correctly.

It was a vintage green rotary telephone. That’s odd, thought Emily.

The woman who found the phone said, “Who has the phone number?” They all looked at each other quizzically and shrugged their shoulders like they didn’t know what the woman was asking of them. “The phone number, the phone number!” the woman implored.

“I think you have it,” one of the men in the group said. “Didn’t you put it in your back pocket?” he said. The disheveled woman felt her two back pockets and stuck her hand in each. The second pocket she checked had a wadded up wrinkled piece of paper in it. “Oh, yes, here it is. I do have it. I forgot,” she laughed as she scratched her dirty, stringy straw-like hair. “Hurry up,” said someone in the group. “Hurry up!” “Okay, okay, don’t rush me,” said the disheveled woman. The woman picked up the dirty, well used hand piece of the vintage green rotary telephone and placed the earpiece up to her ear. She squinted at the wrinkled scrap of paper in her hand, moving it closer then farther away as she tried to discern what was written on it. Seeming to settle in her mind what the paper contained, she placed a slender, bony finger into the rotary dial of the phone. The group drew closer. They watched with great wide-eyed interest at her every move like the wiry woman was placing a “dialing for dollars” call. She dialed the first number. The rotary dial made its appointed round and stopped, seeming to wait for the command of its next number. The woman dialed the next number, and the next and the next, until 10 digits had been dialed without error. 

The wiry woman holding the hand piece of the vintage green rotary telephone croaked, “It’s ringing.” At the same time the wiry woman said the line she had just dialed was ringing, Emily’s cell phone also started ringing! It was sitting beside her on the couch. Startled, she picked up her phone.

“Hello?” Emily said nervously. “Hello, Emily,” the wiry woman croaked as the group in the movie on the television screen laughed and clapped in the background. The vintage green rotary telephone had completed its task without fail. Emily looked up at the television screen in horror and disbelief. She now saw herself sitting on the couch with her cell phone in her hand in the living room with the group of disheveled people in the movie on her television screen. “Welcome to our group,” croaked the wiry woman as she placed a slender, bony hand on Emily’s shoulder. The others clapped and laughed.