Butt Dialing Phenomenon

Cell Phone in Back Pocket of Miniskirt

I don’t think I’m the only person on planet Earth who gets butt dialed here and there. We’ll get to that in a moment. First I just want to ask why people, females in particular, always seem to have their cell phones in their back pockets? Taking a walk down memory lane I can remember being in high school in a time when the girls wearing their jeans so tight that if they got a chill one could read the goose bumps like braille. I really enjoyed getting behind a slow-moving crowd of girls in tight jeans, even now it still brings a smile to my face. Moving forward many years now persons of the female persuasion still wear their jeans/pants/skirt very tight. Want to know the difference? Somehow they find room to squeeze a phone in that back pocket. Personally I think it’s really distracting because I’m not looking so I can see a cell phone lump and that isn’t what I want to see. Anyway, the cell phone being in someone’s pocket or even their waistband, to me, is very tacky. What’s a person to say tho, everyone is doing it, even the girls in my family. I will be the first to admit that I do mention it to my wife and to both of my daughters, and I have done this for many years.

So, now that I sit here and think about it I can’t remember anytime I have been butt dialed by a person of the male persuasion. I’m not making that up to get this seem one-sided, I really can only ever remember being butt dialed by girls. Is this such a phenomenon? I don’t think it is because I think I have narrowed it down to a root cause and the common denominator. By now y’all have figured it out, by now many of you are thinking that this post is about over because I have solved the mystery, except y’all would be wrong. Eventhough I have assumed what the main reason for butt dialing is, I still want to know how it happens and that will be the biggest challenge. To begin with I started reading some on-line forums, groups, as well as doing internet searches (which yielded almost 800,000 results in just .39 seconds), so I know I’m not the only one talking about it. There are even some forums (to include Facebook) which are recommending men host an intervention to get phones out of every girl’s pocket as soon as possible. Y’all may laugh, but y’all know I’m right. Something drastic needs to happen pretty quick. I would say, looking at my phone right now, I get butt dialed 5-11 times on average every day. Before you get too excited, at least two come from my wife and at least two will come from at least one of my daughters if not both of them. Then we get to throw in the random people who I have either spoken to recently or texted with recently. Don’t girl’s screens lock out anymore or is it that girls just don’t pay attention before they put their phone in their pocket.

The number one reason (that’s #1) I get from friends and family about why they put their phone in their back pocket is ……………… (can you guess) ……… because then they can hear it when someone calls or texts or e-mails or whatever. OR they can feel it when they have it on vibrate. Sounds legit, right? Well, I will tell you from personal experience that it is a lost conversation before it ever starts. In a way, I have given up on my quest to figure out why girls put their phone in their back pockets. I do know one absolute fact I learned the hard way recently with my wife’s HTC DNA. We use Verizon, we have our phones insured, and come to find out that nothing covers breaking your phone because you forgot to take it out of your back pocket before you sat down. After some checking, most carriers have the exact same policy. From what I understand with talking with Verizon that having a phone “broke” by sitting on it is the most common damage they see which is why that “hazard” is not covered in their insurance plans. I wonder if everyone knows this fact. If they do, are they willing to just take the risk or do they just think it won’t happen to them? I know, tough question, and as a man I DO NOT want to even spend a moment in a woman’s brain. The thought scares me and makes me shudder.

0000 answers

Please take my anonymous “Butt Dialing” poll below. The information gathered will only be used to update this subject. Do it for fun butt try to be as honest as possible. Check back to see how other readers are answering the poll. When you are done with the poll take a moment to leave me a comment to let me know your opinions.

As a note, before anyone gets their panties in a wad, my reference to woman or females using the term “girl” was not used with a derogatory meaning attached. Nor was it meant to be-little anyone, the term “girl” was used generically to cover everyone in the realms of the female persuasion. I hope we are clear now, just trying to make the conversation easier to follow.

The Art Of Communication In 2013

In my daily ritual to observe my surroundings I often forget to look in the mirror and take notice. In this day and age it would seem that everyone has a cell phone of some sorts and isn’t afraid to use it. I have mentioned before that I often have to make times in my house that are cell phone free just so some live people time can happen. Some examples of when a person in my house is forbidden from even looking at their phone for any reason. The number one time is if we are talking to one another, if I’m talking to you I take precedence over anything that could possibly be happening on your phone. If we are talking and you pull your phone out I will assume the conversation is over and walk away. The second time is when everyone is assembled at the dining room table for a meal. The only person I allow exception to this rule is my wife. Why? Only because she is a manager for multiple doctor’s offices and a handful are open 24/7. So, if her work cell phone goes off she will check it to gage the importance. If it is important she will excuse herself from the table to take care of her business and then return. I listen while we eat because I hear the message tones, I hear the ring tones, and I hear the vibrations happening. My kids know if they even glance in the direction of their phone they will lose it for a bare minimum of 24 hours. Friends, family, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, games, calls, and texting can wait until we are done eating. Third is family time when we all get together to watch a movie or play a game. I refuse to pause either so someone can take a text or call. Plus, I treat that time like being in a public theater because I don’t want to hear the ringtone or somebody jacking with their phone.
 
I have spent some time talking with my family about all of this and they seem to take my wishes and desires into consideration most of the time. I asked each one of my children and my wife to give me an estimate of how many texts they send and receive a day. I broke this down into 3 basic categories which were family, friends, spouse/significant other, and work. The results were kind of interesting and I thought I would take a moment and share them real quick before moving on.
 
Son, age 12
Friends 5 texts
Family 25 texts
Girlfriend n/a
Work n/a
 
Daughter, age 17
Friends 25 texts
Family 50 texts, 2-3 calls
Boyfriend 100+, 4-5 calls
Work n/a
 
Daughter, age 23 (lives in Utah)
Friends 25 texts, 4-5 calls
Family 25+ texts, 4-5 calls
Fiance 40+ texts, 4-5 calls
Work 3+ texts, call occasionally
 
My wife
Friends 25+ texts, 1-2 calls
Family 25+ texts, 4-5 calls
Spouse (me) 50+ texts, 2-3 calls
Work 75+ texts, 25+ calls
 
Me
Friends 30+ texts, 1-2 calls
Family 5+ texts, 1-2 calls
Spouse 50+ texts, 2-3 calls
Work 0 texts, calls occasionally
Work 30+ e-mails
 
What did I learn from all of this? First, I doubt my wife and daughters were being 100% honest with me or themselves. However, there is much more going on with everyone’s smart phone than meets the eye, the texting is only a part of it, and for me personally it isn’t really the big part of the time spent on my phone. What do I mean? Well, as some examples, my kids also use their phones to view Youtube videos, my daughters are constantly on Instagram and Facebook, and everyone plays at least one game regularly. But there is much more, at least for me, since my phone serves many purposes for me personally. Let me explain. First, lets start with my work. My work extension is forwarded to my phone because I’m rarely at my desk. My work e-mail is forwarded to my phone because I’m rarely at my desk to check and/or reply. My actual work is done remotely on my phone and later downloaded onto the server at the end of the day. Allot of actual “work” is done from my phone. Luckily, since it’s my personal phone, my employers reimburses me $150.00 per pay period because I use it for work purposes. Which is great because it pays for all five lines I have thru Verizon, all with unlimited talk, text, and data. But, what they don’t know is I pay under $100.00 a month so I pocket the other $200.00 for my “troubles” and “services”. It is also the easy way for me to take my work home with me paper free and work remotely when needed which is only about once or twice in a three month period.
 
I do a whole lot more from my phone. Let’s start with this blog and my five (5) other blogs, all done from my phone. Yes, there are (6) of them that I keep updated primarily from only my phone. You weren’t aware there were six (6)? Take a moment and see the links section. I’m also pretty active @ Blogcatalog, or at least I try to be active there. I’m pretty active on Pinterest as well. Plus, I use Facebook and Google+ to promote my blogs, which actually doesn’t take up much time at all, but I do have a presence. I buy and sell a buttload of things on eBay and Craigslist so I have to monitor that always. That is where most of my actual phone calls are generated from. My phone is my hand allot during the day but I tend to not be on it much at all once I get home because I don’t want others around me on their phones. Additionally, I have a home phone number, but no home phone, so all calls that come to that number get forwarded straight to my cell phone. The nice thing about that is that nobody knows it is happening unless I say something. Also, I can make calls where my home phone will show up in the caller i.d. as well. Eventhough I do not have an actual “smart home” I do have many of the features associated with it. If it is electronic and plugged in I can operate it from my phone. I have my security routed through my phone which includes a handful of cameras and the intercom system so I can see people at my gate and talk to them while I am at work and they think I am up in the house. Since I drive quite a bit for work and personally, I use the GPS feature on my phone always. Since I am outdoors so much either at home or on my Goldwing I also like to have the weather at my fingertips.
 
By the end of any given workday I’m tired of my phone, being on my phone, and just plain seeing it. If you are thinking I spend allot of time on my phone you are right, I do. I often wonder what it would be like not to have my phone. Well, life would be simpler that is for sure. My evening time is reserved for what I want to do and the family time we have. You never get that lost time back. Weekends are about the same, we spend much of the time at home doing a variety of things. My time is mostly spent outside doing one thing or another. I have a hard time just sitting on the couch and staring at the television. I think this family survey was beneficial because it has shown each one of us what we actually are using are phones for. Take this post for example, the entire thing written using my phone and published from my phone. What about you, what do you do with your phone?
 


A Day In The Life Of John

Originally Posted 05 Febuary 2013
Guest Blogger: John “Agit8r” Fisher
A Day In The Life Of John…………..
I once had a job that was literally shitty. I worked for a relatively small cleaning contractor that cleaned the courthouse complex, and county jail in Spokane. During that time, they took over the decontamination of jail cells that had previously been done by a well-known service that uses bright green vehicles. Though the work was somewhat sporadic, it did pay pretty well for semi-skilled labor, enough so that I continued to do it on the side as an emergency-call person after I stopped working for the company in other capacities.
The first cell-clean we performed involved an inmate who had stuffed a few days worth of meals down the toilet, shit in it numerous times, and then flushed it, thereby flooding his cell with fecal matter, rotten bologna and fermenting oranges. We were somewhat unprepared logistically, probably due to the emphasis on needing to kill MRSA (a factor in the account being up for bid in the first place, apparently) and only secondary concern given to the prospect of large-scale shit removal.
As we doused the cell, floor to ceiling, with a disinfectant (mixed to the concentration that the packaging label directed for disinfecting cadavers) from the doorway, my co-worker (a burly Ukrainian immigrant named Eduard) said to me “in Ukraine we call this monkey room.” Then we opened our bio-hazard kits, which contained rubber gloves, a doctors mask and a disposable full-body suit with a hood. Most importantly (it would turn out) it came packaged in a lunch-box-sized clam-shell case. After suiting up, putting on goggles and rubber boots, we waded through the cell, while applying more disinfectant. Then we wiped down the walls, the sink, and the bed, while we waited for the layer covering the floor to soften up.
Then we got to the toilet. I looked over at my supervisor, who was observing the process along with our project manager… from several feet away… behind an unenclosed curtain wall… while holding their noses. “How do we get this stuff out of here?” I asked as I began to understand what the bright green, unfamiliar looking piece of machinery that was sitting in the property room, waiting for the previous company to come and retrieve it, must have been used for.
“Did you try the dustpan?” came the reply.
“It won’t fit past the seat. It’s all one piece of metal.”
“We’ll have to get you guys a scoop for next time.”
They would later provide a plastic soup ladle, which ended up being pretty useless anyway. But in the meantime, I would have to try to put my problem solving ability to work. I went to the door, pausing to kick whatever I could off of my boots before exiting the cell. I scanned the cart, while my coworker began shoveling the refuse from the floor into a red plastic bag, by using the dustpan.
As I looked over the cart, I noticed the plastic clam-shell case from our bio-hazard kit. I opened it up, and then broke it in two at the hinges. Then with half of it, I began scooping the composting sludge out of the toilet, until it could be flushed. After seemingly forever, we finally got the rest of the crap off of the floor with the dustpan, the half clam-shell case, and finally, a ridiculous number of paper towels (they would later get a wet-vac), we got the stainless steel fixtures nice a clean for the next “guest,” we painstakingly picked the few bits of stuff out of the painted cinder-block wall’s pores, and at last wiped up the foot tracks from my trip to the cart, and spritzed everything with a final coat of cadaver-cleaner.
Though some of the hiccups got cleared up before future visits, there were things that would confound us still. There was the time that one of the showers had a sizable amount of clotting blood covering about half the floor, which really put my resolve not to vomit to the test. There was second floor, where the wet-vac couldn’t be plugged in, because none of the plug-ins worked (which really would have been handy the time that there was a massive quantity of what appeared to be vomited-up semen in a cell there.
There was the lack of a pressure washer, which never got resolved, but was occasionally necessary for instances like the time when one inmate wrote “FUCK PIGS” on one wall, and on the wall above his bed wrote “I LOVE YOU TAMMY” …in poop. Or when a guy filled in his air vent holes with toothpaste. Or when another guy used toothpaste to glue pictures of scantily clad women cut out of magazines to the bottom of his shelf-desk. Or when a fellow fashioned himself a curtain for his door-window …with poop. And then there was one guy who was both a painter and a sculptor… but I won’t bore the reader with that.
I’d like to end on a lighter note, from this one time when Eduard and I had to clean a cell in the Intake area, on a rather chaotic night. The place was crowded and we had to wait while they got the prisoner out of the holding-cell that we had to clean, as guards and prisoners, on their way to being booked, moved back and forth around us, and some prisoners were yelling drunkenly from their holding cells, and others were talking loudly to one another to be heard over the yelling. And I was pretty jived up because after we got the call, I had kinda chugged my large coffee (because it would be cold after we got done, of course). Then, one of the prisoners began banging …some part(?) of his/her body into a metal part of his/her cell, and kept this up until it became something of a rhythmic clanging. And probably partly because of my coffee buzz, and partly because it was generally good to show the prisoners’ that their craziness couldn’t phase you, I began moving my shoulders and hips side to side in a dancing motion to rhythm of the clanging, to which Eduard shook his head at me, as he said in his thick accent “Jamming out…”