Even though my office is open-concept, with the exception of the few whose booming voices carry throughout the old building, the third floor is quiet; sometimes eerily so. I have become an excellent lip-reader and and excellent IMer, so as not to disturb the genius that is happening on Queen Street. Well, the cell phone loud ringtone went off, I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was most certainly not the voice who answered with a sheepish “hello?” for the entire office to hear. It was the kind of feeling you get when you see a giant wrestler-type man order vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinklers or when you see the man in a three-piece suit downing a colorful drink with an umbrella. Just, unexpected.
The hip-hop-meets-techno ditty that echoed long-after that phone call prompted me to immediately take to the twitters with the blanket statement about how much I can tell about a person based on his or her ringtone alone. And it’s true. I can. It’s one of those hidden talents that I pull out at parties when I need to make a good impression or when conversation leads down a “how about this weather?” path.
Kind of like how I can touch my nose with my tongue.
You are amazed. I can tell.
I currently am sporting an assortment of four ringtones that I use in rotation.
I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers
Fingertip by Aqualung
Winter Winds by Mumford & Sons
9 Crimes by Damien Rice
I wonder what these say about me.
Probably that I belonged on the set of The OC or One Tree Hill. Or that I own several pairs of Chucks and skinny jeans and hoodies. Or that I’m creative and probably had low self-esteem in high school. And that I liked Juno and Garden State even though some people thought it was cooler to hate on them and even though New Slang by The Shins didn’t change my life, even though Natalie Portman swore that it would.
What do you say? Up for a little completely and totally scientific (pinky swear!) ringtone psychoanalysis?
Bring it on.