The phantom ringy-dingy

If turnabout is fair play, then I got what I deserved the other day when my office phone rang. Upon answering, all I heard from the other end was distant, indistinct chatter. No one within that chatter was speaking to me; a couple of "hellos" on my part went unanswered.

It was weird to be hearing a conversation but not quite make it out and not be able to make my self a part of it. It was dreamy in a way – I was there, but not there. What it was, I think, was a pocket phone call, and I deserved the call because I've been guilty of late of making pocket phone calls myself.

For those who aren't aware, pocket phone calls are the calls your cell phone makes while it is stored in your pocket or handbag or wherever. You don't intentionally make this phone call. Somehow, the movement of your leg against the cell phone key pad in your pocket dials a telephone number. You have no idea whatsoever you're making the call.

I have to believe the incidents of these types of calls are growing as more and more people get the smartphone devices that have full keyboards that are vulnerable to random dialing. People who have the clamshell type cell phones -- the ones with a cover that opens and closes over the touch pad -- don't make pocket phone calls. But the growing preponderance of Blackberry phones raises the chances that their owners are going to make calls they have no idea they’re making.

I recently upgraded from a Treo to a BlackBerry smartphone. I don't recall making any random pocket calls with my Treo because it has an automatic locking mechanism for the keyboard once the device shuts off. You can't do anything until you press the unlock button.

The Blackberry doesn't automatically lock. You have to manually lock the phone, then hit a three-button sequence to unlock the phone to perform any of the functions, such as make a phone call.

I don't normally use the lock function. Usually the phone is in my shirt pocket where it doesn't get into much trouble. And using the three button unlock function is really kind of a pain in the neck.

It was soon after I got the phone, when the phone was in my jeans pocket during a weekend of travel that I started making mystery calls. I -- or more precisely, it -- dialed a former colleague from a newspaper in Massachusetts and it dialed my daughter. Somehow the speed dial button for my daughter was pushed while my phone was stowed in my jeans pocket. I'm not sure at all how I dialed the former colleague. Enough buttons to get into my phone's address book would have had to have been pushed, and I can't fathom how that can happen.

In the right front pocket of my jeans, I have to have pretty smart thighs to coordinate enough movement against the keypad to make a call that lasted 59 seconds while I was having lunch with friends on a Saturday in Worcester, Mass. And even smarter thighs the next day to give my daughter Elizabeth a phantom call for 22 seconds while I was watching a college hockey game.

I won't begrudge the phone calls you may inadvertently make to my office or my cell phone. I'll try to call attention to your error by shouting “hello, hello,” but you won't hear me because your phone will be nestled snugly in your pocket or bag. I've been there, done that, will probably do it again. I feel your pain, I feel your ring. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s a monthly plan for unlimited pocket calls.