allysonkrieger
runonsentence.com
amkrieger@hotmail.com
650 703 7109
originally published on WildWeb, 5/6/99
The Medium
Is the Message
The Answering Machine As Pop Culture Oracle
By ALLYSON
KRIEGER / "Leave your name and number after the beep." Its words
are a societal mantra, a phrase reworded and reworked into endless variations
and emblazoned on our collective memory like a magical incantation. We
come home after work, school or play – and it benignly sits there,
looking deceptively innocent while holding all of our hopes, our dreams,
our answers. Did I get the job? Will he really call? Are my test results
back? It all lies within the flick of a button on the answering machine,
our modern day, pop culture oracle.
The Golden
Years
In college, my roommate and I had an old-fashioned Panasonic, the kind
with a regular cassette you could play right on the stereo. We would never
erase our messages, but instead we saved them like precious reminders
of past friendships, parties and conquests. We’d have tapes upon
tapes full of drunken babbling, giggling friends and -- unfortunately
-- the occasional intrusive voice of the outside world disguised as parental
concern. We kept them like oral diaries of our typical college lives,
little black trophies to remind ourselves that we were popular, fun and
funny. We played them when we were bored, or just to recall a voice or
a moment.
Even the outgoing message we left for the public was a matter of national concern. Should we be flip, or sexy? Sound busy? Laugh? Maybe we should play music in the background. Is a dance beat too cheesy? A ballad too sappy? A song slightly out of the mainstream was usually deemed best. It had to be something not too popular, but recognizable enough so that people would understand that we were, in fact, cool.
Recording the agreed-upon message was a bonding session. We’d lock the door, hunker down around the magic machine and practice a few times before making a go at it. Deep breath, cleared throat, and: unavoidably, uncontrollable fits of laughter. Guaranteed. The more times it took to get it right, the more we laughed. By the time we nailed it, it was a validating moment equal to the satisfaction of 50 aced exams.
Then came the testing phase, as the new message got critiqued by friends calling one by one, telling us it was better than the old one or that we sounded weird, or asking who the guy was in the background. Sometimes our parents would hesitate for a moment, shocked at the sound of our new voices. "Um ... hello? Is that you?" they would begin tenuously.
But nothing was more exhilarating than the moment we’d storm the room after a party, frat house or bar we’d snuck into, running breathlessly over to our little gray and black box. If the light was blinking: success. The more blinks, the better. Greedily, the roommate with the quicker trigger finger would begin the cycle with a reassuring whir of rewinding tape. What came next could make or break us -- from a late-night call from the paramour down the hall to a friend in need of one last cigarette.
We’d quiet, sometimes taking our coats off, but more often than not standing still in honor of the ritual. Sometimes we’d analyze a message with more precision than a team of scientists, looking for hidden meaning or words between the lines. If something was particularly good, we’d hit replay, wanting to savor the feeling of excitement or relief.
Current
Era
Once we graduated college, our answering machine habits matured right
along with us. Outgoing messages need to be adult, tame and professional.
We practice, this time, sounding confident – we are adults now, after
all, in control of our lives and proud of our newfound independence. And
goddamnit, our words will reflect that. What if a prospective employer
should call, or my boyfriend’s mother?
Incoming messages too have changed in tone and nature. Doctors appointments and workplace concerns replace party directions and 2 a.m. check-ins.
These days, digital answering machines and corporate voice mail have lessened the tangible rewards of old-time message retrieval. I no longer ferret tapes away like tiny oral histories, but treat my modern-day oracle like another piece of electronic equipment. Still, I respect its place in my life. New features, abilities and quality improvements have imbued the answering machine with even greater powers -- now it can tell me a phone number, replay instantaneously or stop on a dime. I can get my messages from work or at a friend’s house, making my machine a part of me wherever I am.
Remote message retrieval keeps us connected to the our home and our jobs even when we’re out of town, on the road or light years away. We know that the machine is there, no matter what, storing our lives for us when we’re gone, in patient anticipation of our return. If we’re awaiting an important call, we anxiously press the access code again and again into our cellular keypads, hoping each time for the rush of success.
Another new dimension that’s entered our relationship with the answering machine is screening. Screening: the power the answering machine gives us over others to deem a caller’s worth. Our time is carefully measured now, as so must be our phone conversations. We let the machine act as our buffer against reality -- if we don’t want to deal, we don’t pick up. Thank you, answering machine, for handling that one.
Want Proof?
Pop Culture Evidence
Like any other piece of pop culture, the older generation doesn’t
really get answering machines. Grandparents who own one most likely received
it as a gift from a well-intentioned son or daughter. Answering machines
scare our elders -- you can hear it in the messages they leave. Like PCs,
or pagers, they’re electronic gadgets that, past a certain age, just
don’t resonate.
Further proof of the answering machine’s cultural significance can be found in its place on television. A recent "Friends" episode revolved around a message left to Ross by his ex-wife Emily. Rachel inadvertently erased the message, leading to a prolonged ethical crisis of to tell or not to tell. The answering machine, foiled! Does Rachel intercept the words before they reach their intended recipient, or does she step aside the mission of relayed information?
"Friends" has used the theme before, in an especially funny episode that called in to question the age of an answering machine message. The joke hinged on whether or not the message from Monica’s former flame, Richard, was pre- or post-breakup. If it was new, hope! If it was old, what a tease. Again, the machine determines her fate.
The second "Friends" scenario mirrors our fear that the answering machine might fail us. God forbid a power outage, or technical difficulties! We need to feel confident that our machines are performing their task with 100% efficiency. The power they have in our lives is absolute; we’re totally reliant, at the whim of the tape.
And what better show for our little friend to cameo on than TV’s pop culture king, "Seinfeld." The answering machine has figured into no less than six episodes of the classic sitcom, joining the ranks of other modern situation gags like waiting in line, countertop tip jars, finding your car in a mall lot and various types of "talkers." Once, George spars with the machine by leaving progressively nastier messages for a girlfriend; once, the message Jerry leaves a rival comedian ends up in her show; once, the "it’s me" message is dissected by Jerry et al.
Rewind
In Douglas Coupland’s cyberculture treatise "Microserfs,"
he lists a handful of devices that have made their way into our entertainment
arsenals. VCRs, cell phones, CDs and, of course, answering machines. The
birth of these symbolic items permanently changed how we judge ourselves
and others, introducing the concept of "having a life" and,
conversely, not having one. For the answering machine’s part, we’re
judged by our voice and our tone, how we build our relationship with our
machine and the way we incorporate it into our lives.
Coupland’s argument places the answering machine as one piece of a whole, a set of innovations that have forever changed the state of pop culture. He’s right, but for me, it’s more than that. The answering machine has a unique place in modern times, both as part of a sweeping technological trend and as a distinct measure of self. The messages we leave and retrieve mirror the place we are in life, our social status, our friendships and romantic entanglements.
We entrust intimate secrets to others’ machines and rely on ours to provide answers. Our outgoing greeting tells people more about us than we might realize. Both a day-to-day constant and a reflection of the big picture, it’s all there, in that prophetic little box: our very own machine of dreams.
What do you think? What does your answering machine say about you? Do you have a funny answering machine story? Tell me.
WildWeb | May 06, 1999