Further to my post yesterday about my reluctance, never mind inability, to master some of the intricacies of social media and not being bothered about this, I came across a case in point last night.
Having prepared my habitual gin & tonic at 5.50pm in advance of settling in front of my 72 inch colour television screen and quadraphonic sound system in order to watch the BBC1’s Six O’Clock News and catch up with the state of the world, I nipped outside to join Her Indoors on the terrace not least to find out when – and possibly if – I was going to be fed before retiring to bed.
As you do, we fell into a conversation about this and that which became something of an eye-opener.
A bit of back-story.
At some point in the last couple of years – I cannot recall when because the exact date is now lost in the mists of time – a stray cat arrived locally.
Eventually the local cat rescue people became involved and as a result some time later I drove Her Indoors to north-west London in order to leave said feline with a lady I shall now call the CRL (“Cat Rescue Lady”) who, for no reward at all save the joys of looking after the species, fosters stray domestic cats.
Subsequently – as women sometimes do – Her Indoors and the CRL kept in touch over how said stray cat was getting on and things developed from there into a situation in which the pair of them became “NBF”s (new best friends).
Which means that rarely a day go by without them being in touch by social media.
And being female, this became to an extent to which no sane person – sorry, male – would ever resort save perhaps as a wind-up.
During last night’s conversation it became apparent that Her Indoors had a significant number of WhatsApp ‘voice messages’ [that’s not what they’re actually called but that’s what de facto they are] and texts from the CRL sitting unopened and/or as yet unanswered on her smartphone.
Out of curiosity I inquired exactly how many.
Dear readers, I kid you not: the total yesterday – and only up to 6.00pm – was 103!
These messages broke down as follows: no fewer than 81 WhatsApp ‘voicemail messages’ and then 22 texts.
To underline my thrust: at some point last night Her Indoors was going to have to listen to 81 voice messages from the CRL – to be totally fair, some of them lasting only 20 to 30 seconds – in order that she could reply to some or all of them.
As I moved through to the sitting room to begin my television-viewing I reflected further and generally upon both the difference between male and female communications and the nature of the social media phenomenon, of which I am glad to be just an occasional and light user.
Lastly, for the record, I did actually get fed last night – a very acceptable mushroom pasta dish.