For most of human history, communication has been an arduous, high-effort process. Long before the invention of the telephone, people relied on face-to-face interactions, handwritten letters, and—if you were particularly fancy—a guy on a horse galloping across the country with a scroll.
Then came the telephone, and suddenly, you could talk to someone miles away in real-time. This was revolutionary. For decades, phone calls were the gold standard of professional and personal communication. If you wanted to make plans, conduct business, or check whether your mate actually intended to pay you back for that pint, you picked up the phone.
But technology never stands still. As text messaging, emails, and instant messaging took over, phone calls started to seem… unnecessary. Why endure the social chaos of a live conversation when you could carefully craft a text response, avoid awkward silences, and maintain full control over when and how you respond?
Now in 2025, phone calls are teetering on the edge of extinction—okay, maybe that’s hyperbole, but still. Millennials tolerate them. Gen Z actively fears them. And for neurodivergent people like me, the decline of phone calls should be a cause for celebration—except for the fact that society still insists on forcing them upon us.
But before we explore the horrors of Zoom calls and the tyranny of unexpected ringing, let’s start with the most baffling development in modern communication: Gen Z’s absolute refusal to hold a phone like a normal human being.
Chapter 1: Gen Z, What Are You Doing With Your Phone?
If you have ever had the misfortune of sitting next to a Gen Z person making a phone call, you may have noticed something deeply unsettling.
They do not hold the phone against their ear.
No.
Instead, they put it on speakerphone and hold it flat in front of them, as though they are conducting a séance for the spirit of Steve Jobs. And they do this in public spaces, blissfully unaware that the rest of us do not want to hear their full, unfiltered conversation about Becky’s latest emotional breakdown or the trauma of getting oat milk instead of almond in their iced coffee.
Let’s be clear: This is not necessary. Bluetooth headphones exist. Regular headphones exist. Holding a phone like a phone still exists. And yet, here we are, all unwilling participants in their full-volume life updates.
So what’s happening here?
Sociological Explanation: The Performance of Public Calls
According to sociologist Erving Goffman, human interactions are performances, with different behaviours depending on whether we’re in a public or private setting. Traditionally, phone calls were private affairs—conducted in offices, homes, or places where no one else was forced to listen.
But Gen Z? They have rewritten the social script.
- The line between public and private has blurred—thanks to social media, people are used to living in a semi-public way at all times.
- Speakerphone calls are not just communication—they are a performance, an assertion of identity.
- There’s also a status element—having a loud, drawn-out phone conversation in a Starbucks suggests that your life is so busy, so important, that you cannot even hold a phone properly.
Unfortunately for the rest of us, this means we are now unwilling extras in their personal podcast.
But the problem isn’t just how phone calls are conducted—it’s the fact that they exist at all.
Chapter 2: The Neurodivergent Phone Call Struggle
For neurotypical people, phone calls are a minor inconvenience at worst.
For neurodivergent people like me? They are an unpredictable, socially exhausting, anxiety-inducing test of endurance.
Phone Calls Violate the Social Contract of Communication
Sociologists like Harold Garfinkel talk about ethnomethodology—the study of how we navigate everyday social interactions through unspoken rules. One of these rules is “turn-taking”—the ability to control the timing and structure of a conversation.
Phone calls violate this rule.
- They demand immediate attention.
- They offer no preparation time.
- They force real-time interaction, removing the ability to pause, process, and respond in a controlled way.
For neurodivergent people, this is deeply unsettling.
Texting allows control. Phone calls remove that control.
Chapter 3: The Rise of Zoom and Teams Calls (The Digital Hellscape We Can’t Escape)
At some point, workplaces realised that emails exist. But instead of using them, they invented something even worse: Zoom and Teams meetings.
Zoom Calls: The Illusion of Productivity
Sociologist Max Weber argued that bureaucracy thrives on inefficiency.
- Zoom and Teams calls are not about productivity—they are about creating the illusion of productivity.
- They exist to justify the existence of meetings, even when a single email would suffice.
- They reinforce hierarchy—if your boss calls a meeting, it forces you to engage on their terms.
Chapter 4: The Only Acceptable Reasons to Call Someone in 2025
- You’re my doctor, and you have important medical results.
- You’re my food delivery driver, and you’re lost.
- Something is on fire.
- You are Liam Neeson from Taken, and I have been kidnapped.
- You are literally dying, and your final words must be spoken immediately.
If your reason for calling does not fall into one of these categories, please text me.
Conclusion: Let’s Just Text Instead
Social theorists like Marshall McLuhan have long argued that “the medium is the message”—meaning that how we communicate shapes what we communicate.
In the modern world, text-based communication has redefined social interaction. It allows for:
- Asynchronous engagement (replying when it’s convenient).
- More thoughtful responses (rather than immediate reaction).
- A more equal power dynamic (instead of forced urgency).
So next time you think about calling me, ask yourself this simple question:
“Could this be a text?”
If the answer is yes, then do the right thing: text me.
AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.
As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.
AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.
For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in.
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