The person you are calling is not answering

How moving across the world forced me to confront my feelings about calls

I’m not great with phone calls.

When someone suggests a call, I get that feeling deep in my gut that tells me “don’t do it”. It seems to be the case no matter the context. Family, friends, work, service providers, I just don’t want to pick up the phone.

And the unexpected calls? Oh, they’re almost nausea-inducing. Why on earth would someone call me without warning? What has happened?

Moving to the other side of the world, I’ve had to confront these feelings about phone calls. It’s no longer possible to prioritise in-person catch ups with people at home, so surely, the next best thing is an audio or video call where you can talk as if in real life? I mean, I LOVE talking. If anything, I should be grateful that we can chat without racking up a massive bill or having to wait for someone to get off the internet in order to use a phone line. Right?

This post originally started out as a reflection on friendships from afar. But the obvious way to sustain long-distance relationships is to call people. So, it felt necessary to contextualise these feelings about calls before sharing my experiences on how friendships have survived or thrived. And now it appears I’ve done a deep dive. Indulge me.

The reluctance to make or take phone calls in more extreme cases (where it leads to hyperventilating or panic attacks) is known as “telephobia”, a diagnosis that is on the rise particularly for Gen Z, according to a 2024 Uswitch survey of 2000 people. There’s even a Phone Anxiety Training course at Nottingham College that’s designed for younger generations to improve phone confidence and etiquette in an age where there are so many alternative forms of communication. Those of us who experience a milder aversion to jumping on the line fall into a “telephone apprehension” category.

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

Given I’m not Gen Z but born pretty much in the middle of the Millenial years, I’ve been reflecting on why I have such strong feelings about the humble phone call. Without going too Philip Larkin on the situation, if I consider my first association with phone calls, the strongest memories I have are being sent on school trips where we were told by our parents not to call unless there was an emergency. Enjoy yourself! You can tell us all about it when you get back!

Whenever we went on family holidays, friends looking after our four-legged furballs at home were instructed in the same way. Do not call unless there’s an emergency. And even then, what could we do from abroad? Receiving a phone call could only mean bad news, as evidenced by the call taken on a family holiday informing us of the death of our Nanna AND our dog.

It seems I’ve carried this approach through life. Where university pals would jump on Skype to call home for weekly chats, I reserved my contact largely for low moments, calling my parents in tears when I was full of cold and left to fend for myself for the first time, or finding an essay particularly stressful.

Similarly, in my mid-twenties when I decided to quit my job and go solo backpacking around the world for eight months, the main call that sticks out is from when I was hospitalised in Bolivia and needed help contacting my insurance provider. Cheery stuff.

I know I’m not alone in recognising the significance of a phone call in delivering gloomier news. In the lead up to our wedding, the calls I received were from people letting me know they would no longer be able to make it. Perhaps a blow they felt less guilty about serving by letting me know through the tone of their voice how sad they were to miss the event, while I had to try and process their absence in the moment (and consider the impact on catering orders, seating plans etc. Ah, weddings!).

And why is it, when calling a service provider, do I suddenly feel like I’m imposing? “Hello, sorry to disturb you, would you mind, I mean would it be at all possible, to ask you for the service you kindly advertise?”

Even during Covid lockdowns when calls became our connection cord, when “to zoom” suddenly became a verb that had nothing to do with fast cars and when virtual quizzing became a booming pastime - it was all instigated by a shared global trauma.

throwback to lockdown quizzes of 2020

I wonder if I should consider myself one of the lucky ones. An extrovert who can swallow the mild anxiety when the phone rings, or push aside feelings of dread when dialling. Most of the time, once a call is connected or a video goes live, I’m off to the races as the pull of meaningful conversation or productivity takes over.

Moving to Hong Kong has necessitated a form of exposure therapy where I make and receive calls far more regularly than when I lived in England. In my first few months, one of my sisters was fairly relentless in her efforts to get me on the phone. Homesickness and overwhelm could have led me to decline those calls, preferring to wallow and ignore. But I am grateful for her perseverance, for on the days I embraced her reaching out, I inevitably felt more grounded. Reminded that although far away, I was (and am!) lucky to have people in my life who care for me and take time to check in.

This is to say, if you, like me, sometimes struggle on the phone, maybe give the next one a chance. It could be the warm hug you need. And if you find yourself repeatedly reaching out to a friend who never seems to answer, why not have a (text) chat about why that is? You may find a fellow telephone-averse person in your midst. We’re not that bad, really.