When Parents Were Secretaries

Back in the days of land lines these interactions were inevitable yet still terrifying

Hysterically retro and often the case: Every time I called a friend (and especially anyone I was dating) the fear of a parent answering was huge.

Parent: Hello?
Mookie: Hi! This is Mike. [I always identified myself and hated when others didn’t extend the courtesy] May I [not “can I” because of course I can, here expressly asking for permission] speak to X?
Parent: Oh, hi Mike. How are you? X told me that you got high in the middle of a soccer game at gym class last week? Is that true?!?
Mookie: That must have been X’s other friend, Johnny.
Parent: Oh, must have been. Was that actually you, by chance, making all that noise in our kitchen at 2am on Sunday morning?
Mookie: Uh, I’m pretty sure I left by eleven on Saturday night…
Parent: Then it’s safe to assume that it wasn’t you who was puking in the downstairs bathroom?
Mookie: I think you heard the dishwasher.
Parent: I see.
Pause.
Mookie: Is X home by any chance?
Parent: Let me find out for you. Hold on… [sound of phone being placed inside armpit or covered with a sweaty palm, and in the background a muffled] X! It’s your idiot [friend/classmate/boyfriend] Mookie! Didn’t I tell you not to let this moron call you at home?