It's 1975 and the phone rings in the late afternoon. Anyone who was around in the days before the breakup of Ma Bell knows that sound - it was the exact same in every house in America. As the trilling continues, there's a bit of a dilemma. You had no idea who it could be. Was it your best bud telling you to come over and watch the Junkyard Dog take on the Iron Sheik in WWF action? Maybe it's old Mrs. Gruber calling to scold you about your dog chasing her cat up the tree again. It wasn't even outside the realm of possibility that the cute redhead was calling to invite you to a party.
In a weird variation of Schrodinger's cat, you just didn't know who was on the other end of the line until you actually picked up the receiver and said, "Hello".
In the late '90s, along with the rise in popularity of cell phones, third-party vendors provided a means to customize some ringtones. At first, these produced pretty cludgy MIDI sequences that sounded like bits of video games. But the bottom line was we were able to associate specific ringtones with specific people.
Over time, refinements kicked in and anything that could be recorded could become a ringtone.
For a while, my standard was one of the battle themes from the anime, Bleach. When my phone went off, most people just looked at me like I had 2 heads. On rare occasions, someone recognized the tune. Suddenly it was head nods and fist bumps as my newfound friend and I went simpatico, geeking out about our favorite episodes.
As phones and the underlying software improved, one could easily go through their entire contacts list and assign unique ringtones to everyone. I once had a boss who assigned tones to key team personnel, giving his own boss "The Imperial March" (Vader's Theme).
Over time, though, this proved to be too tedious as people transferred from phone to phone and even to different carriers on a regular basis. Ringtones were replaced as the must-have, shiny geegaw by the glut of apps that could be downloaded. The dilemma became, "Do I get a tractor or more cows for Farmville?", rather than, "What ringtone does my podiatrist get?".
However, up until my latest phone, I did retain one special ringtone. Sampled from the opening lines of a Nickelback song, I'd assigned it to Andrea. Before I'm swarmed by the cancel crowd, here's full disclosure. Andrea was fully aware of "her" ringtone. While not as big a fan of Nickelback as me, this particular tune is on a number of her playlists, and it's become one of our "unofficial" songs.
And it's gotten me into trouble.
One year I was "voluntold" to assist in a couple of sessions for "Bring Your Child to Work Day". We'd just finished a robotics demo and the kids were filing out of the room when my phone started ringing. Of course, it was Andrea. Normally, I silence my ringer going into meetings, but thanks to fate's sense of humor, I neglected to do so this time.
Unfortunately, it appeared fate was just getting started with me and I happened to be standing next to a stern, matriarchal woman when Andrea called. Because fate was going for the trifecta, my ringer volume was nearly maxed as Kruger started belting out those lines. Immediately, our stern matriarch's shoulders squared up and her arms immediately crossed over her chest. She tilted her head, pursed her lips, and glowered at me over the rim of her glasses. I gave her a sheepish smile and a one-shoulder shrug as I fumbled for the volume.
"Sorry. It's OK. It's actually my wife calling me."
This absolutely did not have the intended ameliorating effect. At least the kids were out of the room.
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