A Case About Cordless Phones

I don't know what you think about cordless phones, but I sort of have this love and hate relationship with them.

Of course, I love being mobile while chatting away. A multi-tasker like me takes great pride in throwing a load of laundry in while making picnic plans for the weekend. Using the cordless phone tied to my landline versus my cell phone means I can confidently climb the stairs to my office while talking and not fear getting cut off when I cross the "narrow strait of lost signals" that traverses my stair rails about halfway up.

However, when I need one they're hard to find. The down side of their mobility is that we tend to drop them wherever we speak our last word of the conversation, be it the living room, bathroom, bedroom, or garage, then fail to find one of them when we need it. Forget those locater mechanisms. Our home has a wide footprint, so sending out the search signal means pushing the button and then frantically running through the house, hoping to catch the beeping response. Or positioning kids strategically with an ear out and offering a buck to whoever finds the missing phone. A person could go bankrupt.

Cordless phones are here to stay, I know. They serve their purpose. But as I type away I look over and find comfort that my traditional plug in the wall model - truly state-of-the-art in its day with speed dial stations and a place to slip in a microcassette for the answering machine (long dormant) - is sitting right next to me, trusty and reliable this morning since my three cordless models died a sudden death during yesterday's storm.

Sometimes it still pays to be a bit old-fashioned.