Technology has brought us everything, except closer. “We’re all connected,” the commercial pounds against our ears, but are we? We’re wired together and we have effectively managed to eliminate any trace of the humanness that permeated our lives, day to day.

Think about it. When was the last time you called the telephone company or your Ophthalmologist or your bank and didn’t have to go through a series of instructions advising you to play the numbers game? You know how that goes – press one if you like us, press two if you don’t, press three for our automated everything line, press four if you desperately, sincerely and unequivocally have to speak to a non – automated, flesh and blood human being. So you press four and you’re instructed to press one if you have a complaint, press two if you have a compliment, which automatically goes into the CEO’s line because that is the only type of call he accepts. If you press three, you’ll get customer service and you will hear, “All of our representatives are busy but your call is very important to us so please do not hang up and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.”

Implicit in that message is a bit of a scolding for your not having used one of the automated lines. After all, even billion dollar companies have to deal with cutbacks in today’s economy and where better to cut than at the bottom? They still have their full management staff but some of those customer service people just have to go.

So the technology that has brought us voice mail has also brought us our share of tsouris. Who among us has not held on for what seems like forever only to get that piercing tone proclaiming that we are no longer connected? However, since we were never really connected in the first place we shouldn’t feel abused. We have all bought into the weird world of wire. At its inception, Voice Mail was greeted with great excitement and now, most of the people I speak with have to little to say that’s complimentary.

“Email me.” It’s convenient, it’s non intrusive, but where are the nuances that accompany the human voice? For example, when I was no longer living at home and I telephoned my mother - not as frequently as she thought I should- I would hear the plaintive tones letting me know how neglectful I had been. How do you get a proper ‘plaintive’ in an email? Will letter writing become a lost art, love letters in particular, or will there be a new genre of love letter, the you’ve got male/female love letter? Emails will become even more pervasive and multi faceted. Firings, requests for divorce, breakups and even proposals can be sent electronically and with no face to face emotional baggage. Does that account somewhat for the popularity of the venue?

Maybe all of this accounts for the widespread use of the cell phone. What could be more in your face than the little Nokia which enables you to be in constant touch? Cell phone use engages both participant and spectator and what is more delightful than hearing the inner most thoughts of total strangers? Perhaps it makes up for those other areas of our life in which our contacts are becoming remote. If I had never known anything else, I wouldn’t give a second thought to what I was missing because, of course, I wouldn’t be missing anything. That’s really my whole point. Great numbers of people have grown up on voice mail and email and don’t feel in the least bereft. But I do, and I wish companies would add one more number to their list. Press 0 if you’re a dinosaur and want to hear, “Good morning, this is the operator. How may I help you today?”