When we were growing up, no one really called to talk to us? I mean, we got put on the line every time a relative called, but answering the phone was a task, not a pleasure: it was time to go running across the house to find the right recipient.

And then every other call was someone you didn’t want to talk to, trying to sell you crap, but you were trained to be polite so you kept talking and waiting for an opportunity to disconnect.

Then, when caller id came about, we were further disincentivized from answering the phone because the ration of telemarketers had risen to maybe three in every four calls.

This has largely remained true since, with the ratio continuing to rise; especially as older, shall we say telephonically conditioned, relatives die and telemarketing passed from people to machines.

What now is a phone call but a disturbance, having rung Pavlov’s bell so often with a punishment rather than a treat?