Today’s personal rant: let’s finally clear up my complicated relationship with WhatsApp voice notes.
Here’s my theory — voice messages are like Schrödinger’s cat. Until you open them, the person on the other end could be dead… or just asking if you’re up for a beer at five.
Notifications are annoying, sure, but sometimes they’re useful — especially during calls. Maybe someone needs to tell me something off-record, or I have to pass on info that shouldn’t end up in the official transcript. As long as we stick to text, all good: I can read the preview, guess the tone, and decide whether to reply, postpone, or ignore.
But a voice message? That’s a different beast. You never know if it’s a cry for help or a “hey, just a reminder that tomorrow’s Aunt Peppa’s birthday — I’m getting her a denture case, what about you?” Until you hit play, you’re in limbo.
And people who send them (bless their hearts!) know it — that’s why they often start with, “sorry for the voice note, but…”
A voice note is an act of dominance. It’s a ritual declaration that your time matters more than mine.
My rule is simple: if you’re dying, call me. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re still alive and kicking on this cursed planet.
There’s only one exception: I’ll accept a voice note if you’re singing me a song.
So, write. Or, if you’re really trapped under a car, call.
And if I don’t answer in that case — that would be neglecting to help.
See you next week,
Simone Puorto
