I hate the phone. Everyone in my life knows this. Most people accept it. Every day, my phone will ring and I don’t know where it is–this is either because it is buried in my purse or Mini has taken it and buried it under a pile of legos in the cubbies beneath his play table. So I usually cannot be bothered to find the phone when it rings because it requires so much effort on my part, and that effort would be rewarded with what? talking on the phone to someone? No thanks.
But custom ringtones are fun. Picking them out and matching them to personalities is even better. It appeals to my literary side or something. And for me, custom ringtones are useful because they alert me to the relative necessity of and/or potential trauma involved with answering the phone on any given occasion. When I hear “Rock ‘n’ Roll, Part II,” I should probably answer it. Same goes for “Karma Police.” And everyone is better off if I answer expeditiously when I hear “Crazy.”
But here’s a tip: when assigning custom ringtones, make sure that you don’t give songs you like to the more difficult members of your contact list. Because eventually, you will come to associate the song exclusively with that person, and forever ruin it for yourself. And if that person calls you often enough, you will start to display somatic symptoms every time the phone rings. Why, thanks to custom ringtones, just hearing the opening chords of “Hotel California” will result in a string of expletive-laden sarcastic insults erupting from my mouth. A certain song from the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour overwhelms me with misplaced guilt, and I feel like my boundaries have been violated whenever I hear Witchy Woman now, regardless of context.
Mine is a cautionary tale. Do yourself a favor and employ a lot of Jonas Brothers or Hanson or something in your ringtone list. You’ll thank me later.