Hold on a moment

A couple of days ago I was in one of those First World Problems situations that is nonetheless extremely annoying: I was stuck on hold.

In this case, I was trying to get through to my auto dealer's service department, which was Experiencing Higher Than Average Call Volume.  It always is, even though any statistician could explain why that's impossible.  Anyhow, after being assured that My Call Is Extremely Important To Them, I was treated to twenty minutes of on-hold music.

It'd be one thing if it'd been some light classical music, or even smooth jazz, although the latter is really not my thing.  The on-hold music my auto dealership chose was some sort of weird electronica that sounded like a robot getting a blowjob from a dial-up modem.  There were random beeps and boops that were at least vaguely melodic, but it was accompanied by a synthesized percussion track that did nothing but go SHWACK-SHWACK-SHWACK over and over and over.

Presumably this is meant to be entertaining to the on-hold person.  Me, I wanted to throw the phone across the room.  On the other hand, if I'm being completely honest, I have that reaction to telephones in general.  If I were to rank my preferred means of long-distance communication, in order, they would be:

1. email
2. text
3. direct message on social media
4. literally every other form of communication ever invented, including carrier pigeon and Pony Express
5. telephone

I have a Pavlovian response to the telephone ringing.  However, unlike Pavlov's dogs, when the bell rings I don't salivate, I swear loudly.

But I digress.

The phenomenon of on-hold music has been the subject of a good bit of research.  It's been around for a while; it was the brainchild of one Alfred Levy, who back in 1966 discovered it more or less accidentally when the telephones in the factory he owned started picking up a broadcast from the radio station next door, and customers on hold mentioned how nice it was not to have to wait in silence.  (He patented the idea, and here we are.)  In 2002, a study by Guéguen et al. found that music triggered people to underestimate the actual time they'd spent on hold.  Presumably this is an indication that the on-hold person found the experience more pleasant than waiting in silence would have been.  

This generates a problem, though; musical tastes vary dramatically.  So how do you decide what to treat your on-hold customers to?  A person who prefers Chopin preludes might not appreciate being forced to listen to "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails.

(Personally, I'd like either one.  I have ridiculously eclectic tastes in music.  When I put my iTunes on shuffle, it can cause musical whiplash as it goes from Yo-Yo Ma playing a Bach cello sonata directly into Linkin Park.)

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Tim Parkinson, Man speaking on mobile phone, CC BY 2.0]

The solution was to use what the industry has nicknamed "beige music" -- tracks that are bland and inoffensive.  In a classic example of aiming for the middle and missing everybody, the unfortunate result is that by offending no one, it annoys the fuck out of just about everyone.  (Seriously; is there anyone out there who actually likes on-hold music?)  There's also the problem that music licensing fees are expensive, so rather than paying for music that's at least reasonably pleasant, many businesses go for the cheapest option, like one local place that simply cycles through the same eight bars of monotony for as long as you're on hold, only pausing periodically to remind you that Your Call Is Still Very Important To Us, No Stop Rolling Your Eyes Really We're Serious It Is.

Me, I'd vastly prefer silence to "beige music."  If I want to listen to music when I'm on hold, I can pull up iTunes and make my own choices.  Despite the research, I am always in a significantly worse mood after being subjected to a half-hour of Yanni or Kenny G than I would be simply left to my own thoughts.  After all, if I'm on hold, I know I'm going to be waiting for the Next Available Customer Representative; that's kind of the point.  Having to wait for the NACR, and simultaneously being forced to listen to music I hate, doubles the unpleasantness.

Maybe I'm unusual in this respect, I dunno.  If you believe Guéguen et al., there must be at least a few people who prefer on-hold music over silence.  It's possible that since I detest telephones anyhow, for me there's nothing that would improve the experience short of ending it sooner.  But unfortunately, on-hold music is here to stay, so I guess I'll have to continue putting up with nondescript smooth jazz, looped monotony, and the soundtrack to robot porn.

****************************************

Cellphones and brain explosions

A while back there was a rumor circulating that using cellphones could give you brain cancer. A study of 420,000 cellphone users, sponsored by the National Cancer Institute, indicates that there is no correlation between cellphone use and cancer, which caused sighs of relief from the thousands of people who like to discuss details of their sex lives and intimate health issues in public places.

Now, however, thanks to a scary email I received yesterday, I find that cellphone users have worse things to worry about than cancer; using your phone can simply make your brain explode.

Don't believe me?  I'll show you.  I excerpt part of the email below:

Do not pick up calls under the following given numbers: 9888308001, 9316048121 91+, 9876266211, 9888854137, 9876715587.  These numbers will come up red in color, if the call comes from these numbers.  It's with very high wavelength, and very high frequency.  If a call is received from mobile on these numbers, it creates a very high frequency and will cause you to have a brain hemorrhage.

It's not a joke, it's TRUE.  27 people have died receiving calls from these numbers.  This has appeared on news programs and has been verified as true, it's not a hoax.  Please forward this on to all the people you care about!

Well, first off, it's a little ironic that I was the recipient of this email.  My phone service provider gives me a weekly rundown of use time, and I average about fifteen minutes a day.  Most of this use is not talking to people, but playing an idiotic game called Snood that I somehow have become addicted to.  Snood involves using a little catapult to launch funny-looking faces at an array of other funny-looking faces, with the Tetris-like goal of getting three or more in a row, at which point they fall off the screen.  The goal is to get all of the faces to fall.  I'd like to say I enjoy Snood, but honestly, mostly what it does is piss me off, because I always flub easy shots and then achieve phone-hurling levels of anger.

I should probably avoid games altogether, honestly, and find a hobby that is more suited to my temperament and level of technological skill, such as making music by banging two rocks together.

Part of the problem is that besides being a Luddite, I just hate telephones in general.  I actually enjoy being in a place where I can't be reached by telephone.  I'm sort of like Pavlov's dog -- but instead of salivating, when the phone rings, I swear.  If people want to communicate with me, my order of preferred modes of contact is as follows:

1. Email
2. Text
3. Social media direct message
4. Every other form of communication ever invented, up to and including carrier pigeon
5. Telephones

I will go to amazing lengths to avoid talking on the phone.  When we order take-out, my wife places the order (two-minute phone conversation) and I drive to pick it up (at least twenty-minute drive each way, because we live in the middle of nowhere), and I still think it's an excellent tradeoff.  As far as people calling me, thank heaven for caller ID, which at least allows me to screen the calls I get and ignore the ones from people I don't want to talk to, which is just about everyone.  The idea of taking a telephone with me, so I can be reached anywhere, has about as much appeal as taking along my dentist on vacation so that he can interrupt my lying around on the beach by doing a little impromptu root canal.

But I digress.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Ed Yourdon from New York City, USA, People using cellphones on a street in New York, CC BY-SA 2.0]

For those of you who actually do use your phones to communicate with other human beings, should you worry about picking up your phone, for fear of your brain exploding?  The answer, fortunately, is no, and we don't need to have a study funded by the National Brain Explosion Institute to prove it.  Without even trying hard, I can find three problems with the contents of the email:

First, there's no way that a cellphone could transmit sound waves at a high enough volume to cause any damage.  Phone speakers are simply not capable of producing large-amplitude (high decibel level) sounds -- phone use isn't even damaging to your ears, much less your brain.  You're at more risk of ear damage from turning the volume up too high when you're listening to music through earbuds than you are from talking to someone on your phone.

Second, how do they know all of this, if all the people it happened to died?  Did the victims pick up their phones, say "Hi," and then turn to their spouses and say, "OMIGOD ETHEL I JUST RECEIVED A CALL FROM 9888308001 AND THE NUMBER CAME UP RED AND NOW I'M HAVING A BRAIN ANEURYSM ACCCCCKKKKK"?

Third, the email itself indicates that the originator has the intelligence of a peach pit, because anyone who's taken high school physics knows that it's impossible for a wave to have high frequency and high wavelength at the same time, as wavelength and frequency are inversely proportional, sort of like IQ and the likelihood of being a Flat Earther.

So, anyway, feel free to continue using your phones without any qualms, and I'll feel free to continue to not use mine.  Maybe one day I'll eventually arrive in the 21st century, and stop being such a grumpy curmudgeon about telephones, and consent to carry one around so I can have constant, 24/7 availability to receive calls about my car's extended warranty.

But don't expect it to happen any time soon.

**************************************

One ringy-dingy...

It will come as no particular shock to people who know me well that I loathe telephones.

I'm not exactly sure why, other than my general introversion.  I will go to significant lengths not to call people on the phone, preferring alternative methods like sending a letter via Pony Express.  When someone calls me, my reaction to the phone ringing is annoyance.  It's like Pavlov's dog, except instead of salivating when the bell rings, I swear loudly.

So it's unsurprising that I resisted getting a cellphone for years.  I hate having phones at home; the last thing I wanted to do was carry one around with me 24/7.  Having a cellphone with me while I'm relaxing on vacation is about as appealing as bringing along a dentist so while I'm lounging on the beach, he can do a little impromptu root canal.

I had one of those old flip phones for a while, which (for me) had the advantage that it had lousy reception, and only occasionally worked.  I also liked that it looked like the communicators on the original Star Trek, and I was sometimes known to flip it open and say, "Beam me up, Scotty," to whoever was calling.

At least I found it funny.

The problem was, I so seldom used it that I never could remember my voicemail password, and in fact, for a long time, I didn't even know my own phone number.  I recall being at the doctor's office, and they were updating my paperwork, and they asked for my cellphone number.  I said I couldn't remember.  The secretary gave me the slow single-eyebrow-raise, and said, "But you do have a cellphone, sir?"  I said, "Yeah, but I never call it, now do I?  So how would I know what the number is?"

From her expression, it was clear she didn't understand what a battle it was even to get me to carry it.  Remembering my phone number was just a bridge too far.

But a couple of years ago, after much cajoling from my wife and friends, I got an iPhone.  And I will admit that there are times it comes in handy.  I like having the GPS capability, even though I wish I could change the computerized voice that gives the directions to, say, Alan Rickman as Snape:

Me: *takes a wrong turn*
Snape voice:  "Why do I bother trying to tell you anything?  You are either deaf or hopelessly stupid.  So now you're lost.  Don't look to me to get you back on track."

Also, I can do essential things like checking to see how many "likes" I have on my last criticism and/or ridicule of Donald Trump on Twitter, and also how many profanity-laced, spittle-flecked responses I got from the #MAGA crowd.

Simple pleasures.

Anyhow, all this comes up because of an article over at the Financial Post, wherein I learned that my acquiescing to getting an iPhone has another downside:

It's going to inform the Antichrist of my whereabouts in the event of the End Times.

This pronouncement came this week from Patriarch Kirill, the head of the Russian Orthodox Church.  "The church does not oppose technological progress," Kirill said in an interview on Russian state television, "but I am concerned that someone can know exactly where you are, know exactly what you are interested in, know exactly what you are afraid of, and that such information could be used for centralized control of the world.  Control from one point is a foreshadowing of the coming of Antichrist, if we talk about the Christian view.  Antichrist is the person who will be at the head of the world wide web that controls the entire human race."

I have to admit that I'm with Kirill in the sense that social media's ability to parse my likes and dislikes and demographics and affiliations from my clicks is a little unsettling.  For example, I'm bombarded by advertisements for running gear and scientific gadgetry -- even on sites I've never gone to before.  Most alarming, though, was a conversation that took place with my wife while I had my iPhone in my pocket, about people who dress their dogs up in costumes, in which I mentioned offhand that we should get an AT-AT costume for our coonhound Lena, that her long skinny legs would be perfect for the part.

I got on my computer when I got home, and the first thing I saw on Facebook was...

... an advertisement for AT-AT suits for dogs.

So apparently the Christmas carol about "he sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake" is not taking about Santa Claus, it's talking about Mark Zuckerberg.

Anyhow, I'm not all that worried about the Antichrist.  First, I'm an atheist, so I kind of doubt he exists in the first place.  Second, if I'm wrong and the Antichrist exists, it's not like I'd be that hard to find even if I didn't have an iPhone.  I'm kind of hiding in plain sight, you know?

Third, I'm not really sure why he'd want to find me anyhow.  I don't think I'd be that useful to an evil entity intent on taking over the world, unless for some reason the evil entity had a burning desire to learn about the Krebs Cycle.

So there's our news from the fringe for today.  Now, y'all'll have to excuse me, because I gotta go check my Twitter app for the latest likes and hate-tweets.  Antichrist or no Antichrist, I gotta keep up with my public.

*******************************

Carl Zimmer has been a science writer for a long time, and his contributions -- mostly on the topic of evolution -- have been featured in National Geographic, Discover, and The New York Times, not to mention appearances on Fresh Air, This American Life, and Radiolab.  He's the author of this week's Skeptophilia book recommendation, which is about the connections between genetics, behavior, and human evolution -- She Has Her Mother's Laugh: The Powers, Perversions, and Potentials of Heredity.

Zimmer's lucid, eloquent style makes this book accessible to the layperson, and he not only looks at the science of genetics but its impact on society -- such as our current infatuation with personal DNA tests such as the ones offered by 23 & Me and Ancestry.  It's a brilliant read, and one in which you'll learn not only about our deep connection to our ancestry, but where humanity might be headed.

[If you purchase the book from Amazon using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to supporting Skeptophilia!]