Goodbye, voicemail, RIP

We gather today to mark the passing of a once-cherished friend who's been with us for decades but seems now near the end of life …

… a friend devoted to keeping us connected, reassured and informed.

Goodbye, voicemail.

We will miss you.

Well, some of us will.

Admittedly, voicemail isn't dead yet. It has more life in it than typewriters, camera film and videocassettes.

But I'm pretty sure it's going in that direction based on some telling data: I don't think my three 20-something kids have listened to a single voicemail I've left them in years.

You know what they do instead when I leave a recorded message on their cells?

They text back the words, "What's up?"

I guess their attitude is why listen to your dad droning on about G0D-knows-what if you can cut to the chase and ask by text.

And it's not just my own kids. I asked about it on Facebook and scores replied. It was virtually unanimous: Everyone said their children do — or rather don't do — the same thing.

"Drives me crazy!" said Gail Duarte. "If they had listened to the voicemail, they wouldn't have to text me back."

But they don't.

Deborah Brennan had a good explanation: "I think so many are just addicted to texting they cannot communicate any other way."

Doris Butterworth added: "Kids have forgotten how to talk with their mouths; only can use their fingers."

At first, I was in denial and kept leaving voice messages — some good ones, I might add. But I've realized they're like trees falling in empty forests: If you leave a message on a young person's phone, it will never be heard.

Barbara Brennan Napolitano told me on Facebook she no longer bothers: "I don't waste my time leaving a message," she said. "I hang up. Then I get the 'what's up' call or text."

That's why voicemail is dying — it's not just kids; many adults are no longer bothering. It doesn't matter that we still want to use it — in the digital age, we don't have a vote on what technologies survive. That's decided by millennials. We have to accept whatever they decree.

Rather brilliantly, Joanne Cadenazzi put it this way: "Coercive dismissal. Do it my way. Period. Same way that a cat trains its human."

I called my 20-year-old son Zach to ask why he no longer listens to voicemail.

"That's what texts are for," he said. And added: "I don't think any of my friends actually listen to voice messages."

Does he himself ever leave them on people's phones?

He laughed. "Too formal," he said. "It's old-school. No kids send voice messages anymore." At least to each other. "Not one."

I asked what he thinks of parents who keep leaving voicemails even though kids don't listen to them.

"It's as annoying as this conversation right now," he said.

Oh.

A part of me understands. Why get trapped waiting for a message to play through if you can glance at a text and shoot one back on your own terms. It lets you avoid often-meandering voice mails. By contrast, texts force people to get right to the point.

That's why kids prefer those even to emails. I used to think email was a miracle of instant communication. But those who grew up with it now see it as too burdensome and formal. My G0D, you have to access your inbox, sort through spam, open a reply screen and type a response. That can take a minute or two, whereas a text pops up instantly and lets you reply in seconds without using upper case, grammar or fully-spelled words. U'r in, u'r out. C ya.

I suppose you have to admire the efficiency of it.

Or at least accept it.

Here lies voicemail.

It led a good life, but in an instant world, the recorded voice is just too slow.

May it rest in peace.

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Mark Patinkin is a columnist with The Providence Journal.