Published Nov 8, 2009

Now that I live in a blended household, I find myself using our phone number at checkout counters to save the few percent that some loyalty program gives. In the old days, this would’ve been an easy job: type our happy home’s phone number into that swipe-your-credit-card-and-sign pad and we’re done. But, like the modern kids we are, we’re cell phone-only and our happy is phone number-free.

I haven’t had a land line in six years, actually, and I’m not sure what I’d do with one now, even though I work from home. I’m not lonely enough1 to take calls from telemarketers. I don’t worry about needing to call 911 and have my address come up.2 Really, it only ever comes up in checkout lines. What’s the number associated with my CVS card? My Ralphs Club? I need to be saving money, you know, this is important stuff.

Sometimes it seems like we should have a single number to give out to everyone, at which they can contact either of us. Pity Google Voice only has 424 area code numbers numbers left, I don’t need to have a home phone in some wacky brand-new area code that everyone thinks is a telemarketer calling from far away. Because my best strategy for having someone talk to me on the phone isn’t being taken for a telemarketer.3

The upside of typing in Mrs. DJ L’il Bit’s number into all these swipe-your-credit-card-and-sign pads is that it’s the only time I ever type her number in anywhere. After all, who remembers phone numbers anymore? She’s programmed into my cell phone, like every other person I’ve met since 2000. It’s good to get the practice recalling her number, in case I ever need to call her from… jail or something, I guess.

That only leaves me to figure out how to remember what our Vons Club number is, so I can save a few bucks on jam and that awesome broccoli slaw. It ain’t lunch without broccoli slaw.

1 anymore

2 anymore

3 anymore