Illustration by Joon Mo Kang

I hereby uninvent the conference call. That’s right, there is now no means by which six or twenty or—God forbid—a hundred people can all meet and discuss a topic over the phone. Personally, I feel like that brief sentence alone should be enough for anyone to pause and think, Multiple people trying to speak at once? That sounds unwieldy and inefficient. It is. But, for those of you who need further convincing that we can do away with conference calling, allow me to explain.

Imagine this:

You are collaborating on a project with a group of people who live in different cities or work in separate spaces. In an e-mail, someone blithely suggests, “Let’s set up a call.” Thirty to a thousand e-mails later, a day and a time are established. We agree on Thursday at 9 A.M. P.S.T., noon E.S.T. Count on at least one person to think that the meeting is at noon P.S.T. Get ready to fill that person in later via a lengthy e-mail.

The conference-call details include a dial-in number followed by a PIN. The PIN is too long to memorize. (Wait, I just got a text message from the organizer: that pin isn’t working, here’s a new one.) Once you enter your pin, you are prompted to state your name, and then to press the pound key. This is the audio version of your passport photo. Your name will never sound worse. I have entered the conversation as Rrie.

Ephen, Ob, Nfer, Sbrfmewnlkk, and RICK!!!! have entered the call as well, but you don’t know that. So we are forced to play the game of “Who do we have on?” For a moment, this roll call is amusing, like the opening credits of “The Brady Bunch”: “Hey, there you are! Here I am!” Then we all realize how outdated that reference feels, and the frisson of nostalgia-meets-novelty is replaced by a redundancy-induced ennui.

The head count is over, but we can’t get down to business quite yet. First, we have to have a tangent orgy. Voices tangle, it’s three on one, I can’t always tell who’s who. Michael, or I think it’s Michael, notes that Christine posted a picture from a Rihanna concert on her Instagram. Was it good? That does sound like a miserable Uber ride to the venue. Adam’s baby is how old now? And Elizabeth is calling from her vacation in Taos. OoooOooOoo. She’ll forward the name of the restaurant later. There’s a quick update on the unseasonal weather. What’s seventy degrees in Celsius? (Mark is in London.) Wait, did we lose Beth? She’s texted Graham that she’ll try us back when she has better reception. Should we wait for her? Let’s. O.K., so who watched “Empire” last night? Taraji P. Henson is killing it.

A few of the fellow-conferencers are in a room together. They are gathered around a special speakerphone that resembles the Star Trek insignia. I find this particularly egregious, because this plastic spaceship is pretending to be a cool invention when it’s really just a landline phone in a Halloween costume.

We’re eight minutes into the call when Barb suggests that we get started. I agree. Except that I can barely hear what anyone is saying once we’re no longer speaking in clipped or stentorian phrases. There is a hiss, a delay, and two people who sound like ailing robots. Any ideas told at length are as distinct as a voice mail from a friend who pocket-dialled you while skydiving. It is for these reasons that most people prefer to be silent during the call, with their phones in speaker mode and muted. This is a good time to shower, write the word “Why?” on a notepad until the ink runs dry, or organize your closet by color. Every once in a while, I like to unmute and chime in with a “Yes,” “No,” or “I agree.” About what, I have no idea.

A conference call is over when someone uses one of the many conversational gaps, false starts, or “No, you go” truces to suggest that perhaps for clarity we should put our ideas in writing. As if to say, “Yeah, I guess flip-flops weren’t a good choice for this 5K run.” Acknowledging that we’ve engaged in the discourse equivalent of a toddler’s squiggle drawing. Hinting that next time we play Marco Polo we could try a swimming pool instead of the Indian Ocean.

Do you understand what I’m trying to say with these analogies? Phew. Because if we were on a conference call none of this would make any sense. ♦