Who keeps a landline anymore? I’ve had the same landline number since 1990, at $136 per month, $1632 annually. My cell service cost me $37 per month, $444 annually. I’ve thought about cutting the phone line. What stopped me? A luddite fear of Wi-Fi is my honest answer. What if it goes down? I’ve only recently come to understand that if it does conk out, landline service will probably follow.
The more credible rationalization is that this landline predates—at least in my world—email, let alone texting. In 1991, there were only three ways to get in touch with me: a phone call, a letter, or in person. All the contacts for my painting contracting business had the landline number, and conceivably still do, at least those that haven’t died. My son runs the business now, and while occasionally a voice from the past will ring to ask if I’m still painting, such calls are rare. Once I got on board with email, with promotional e-flyers each quarter, modernity was reached. Everybody emailed, and now texts. I don’t think I got one phone call for bid in 2024. My son, with all his devices, is beating me 20-1 for customer inquiries.
The landline still rings, more than ever, but I generally keep it turned off. It’s never anyone I want to talk to. When you have the same phone number for 35 years, people get the number. I gave money via a Republican National Committee phone bank in 2000, in support of George W. Bush’s campaign. They’re still calling—thank God for caller I.D. In 2015, I diverted my political donations to Donald Trump, a decision my 96-year-old mother (she still has her landline) found incomprehensible. My last non-Trump political donation was in 2010, to Sarah Palin’s defense fund. Palin sent a thank-you note, but never called. Trump’s people didn’t call either, probably because I donated via an online portal. Those requests for contributions stopped hitting my inbox on or about November 5th, 2024.
I get calls all the time from young real estate whippersnappers, asking if I want to sell my home. They’ve crunched the numbers, and have a better understanding of my equity position than I do. There’s a lot of equity here, but where am I supposed to go? I couldn’t afford a decent apartment in Portland for what my nearly-paid-off mortgage payment is now. And I’m not going to farm myself out to Eastern Oregon, where I could take that profit, buy a daylight ranch for cash, and have money left over. I’m not desperate or anything. Not yet.
I’m seriously considering letting my landline go. I can use the extra grand I’ll save by doing so. Come January, you’ll only be able to reach me via my flip-phone number.