HELLO? (with no apologies to Adele)

The telephone is dead.

Not so much the cell/smartphone, since our fingers twitch to text and tweet and reply-all email.

But the Alexander Graham Bell invention is moribund (especially according to statistics from Nielsen, claiming that we’re moving to a landline-less and voicemail-less society).

All of which we mourn.  To us, it signals an increasingly isolated population, at home and at work.  [Though for the life of us, we can’t figure out who’s talking to whom in our commutes.] 

It shows our determined individualism:  “Hey, we’re communicating on our own terms and in our own timeframe.”

And it points to an ever-decreasing competency in being willing to talk and understanding how to hold a conversation.

According to Miss Manners, phone calls are rude, disruptive, and awkward.  They interrupt our workflow, our home lives, and generally create havoc for those around us.  In fact, it’s become de rigueur to ask, in an email, if it’s okay to call.

Much of that could be due to the constant ‘dialing for dollars’ from robocalls or from groups we’d just as soon not hear from.  And much of that could be a lack of energy to speak with those who want to talk with us; after all, it takes a lot of energy to text and message and scroll through Facebook and LinkedIn and Instagram and Pinterest and other social media.

Some say back-and-forth messaging is simply the new century’s conversation. 

We’d hang up on that.

CONVERSATIONS, UNLIMITED

Much of today’s pop non-fiction is obsessed with conversations.  That is, the lack of them.   The face-to-face type.

Blame quickly shifts to the Millennials who grew up with technology in hand.  And then extends to everyone and anyone who works for a living, over-relying on social media and smartphones, on apps and e-widgets.

Yet it ain’t all the fault of IT.  Nor can we point fingers to specific cohorts, because, truth! everyone indulges.  It’s just easier to communicate with things other than our mouths, our voices, our hearts.

In a recent Wall Street Journal article, a Yale professor of computer science, half tongue in cheek and half not, proposes a Talknet for seniors.  That is, a 365/24/7 system that allows elderfolks the ability to tune into any dialogue going on around the world.  His plan is simple:  Five choices on screen, each with no more than ten participants.  Start your own conversation.  Or wait for others to leave.  Or, quite simply, listen in with computer speakers.

It’s an imaginary concept that could work, quite well, in corporate settings.  And not just for seniors.  It would train employees in the art and craft of talking.  It might be a good substitute for some learning and development courses (with apologies to those professionals).  And it could replace the communities of practice, the Yammers of the world, and corporate jam sessions (among others), helping workers realize that there’s much to be gained in connecting and relating live.

The fault, dear Brutus …

VOX NOT-SO POPULI

Columnists (no names here) have called it a “dead medium.”

Psychological researchers say 40 percent of UK office workers admit to nervousness when using it.

And serious therapies exist to reduce the onset and existence of telephobia. 

Yup, you got it:  The fear of the phone.

It’s not a yesterday statistic (the survey we cite was conducted in 2013).  Nor is it limited to 18 to 24ers who are, in large part, tied to texting and emailing.  Rather, many employees these days (94 percent according to the study) simply prefer email over any other communication channel.

Why?  Let us list the ways telephone talk is shunned:

• It can be intrusive
• Playing phone tag is annoying
• We can’t read what someone’s really thinking
• It’s time consuming (retrieving and listening to messages)
• The caller rambles
• It’s too much of an expectation (to return calls)
• It’s rude … and an imposition.

Seriously?   We’re sad.  Friends and family aside, a telephone call – like snail mail – can brighten our day.  A real-time exchange, even one that’s sudden, allows us to find out what’s going on, without reading between the e-lines.  It gives us permission to simply listen, to emote, to interact with colleagues, vendors, peers, managers, and leaders.  At our best, we can be comfortable and confident, and bring clarity to a conversation that, yes, might have rambled. 

What would Alexander Graham Bell say?  “To ask the value of speech is like asking the value of life.”

UPTALK, DOWNTALK

Little news notes fascinate us.

Especially when arcane research is released.  Most recent on our hit list?  A study from a William & Mary sociologist who studied Jeopardy! contestants (double exclamation point) to look at the incidence of answering questions with a question.

It’s called uptalk.

Not surprisingly, women were nearly twice as prone to lift their voices at the end of a sentence; men, only when correcting a female colleague.  The sociologist suspects that high-powered women lilt to appear less dominant, more likable.

In case we jump to other psychological theories, another academic, this one from San Diego State, claims that kind of intonation doesn’t necessarily signal powerlessness; it’s simply just another way people talk.  [Then again, she’s from the land of the Valley Girl.]

What this all means is, obviously, subject to much interpretation.  The underlying message to us, as communicators and brand and design folks, is that how you say it is far more critical than what you say.  According to linguistic experts, your voice gives others cues to stress, age, socioeconomic status, anxiety, gender, personality, and culture (among other indicators).  Voice sounds influence those around you:  deeper tones are more memorable, for instance.  Foreign accents strain for credibility … at least, to U.S. listeners.  And familiar voices are instantly recognizable (just ask our pets).  We raise and vary our pitches for emphasis, to show surprise or irony or enthusiasm, or to simply pose a question.

Media and speech coaches, take note.  As should all of us who agree with Benjamin Disraeli’s contention that there’s no index of character so sure as the voice.