The Zoom Bug

The First Zoom Call

At the risk of not embracing the spirit of the latest current events, I'm not a fan of Zooming. Yes, it is great to talk to people I wouldn't normally see--I get it. But when a "zoom call" becomes the norm, I'm thinking we've carried things a bit far. 

The two biggest groupies in my life of the Zoom are my broker friend Kaye and Jane. Kaye lives less than a mile away and refuses to be near me in the event I might contaminate her. On the occasions we have met up, generally for a walk or bike ride, she insists on wearing a mask and is mortified I don't feel the same way. We are outside. We are six feet apart. We are both looking forward. Even if I don't agree with her feelings about masks, I think if you are willing to fill up your car and buy groceries, there needs to be a modicum of common sense when it comes to bike riding. However, Kaye is Kaye. She is 70 and has many other wonderful traits, including overlooking my cavalier attitude about this virus. 

Kaye's solution to visiting has become Zoom calls. I don't sit still well enough to Zoom for great periods of time. I would rather, if we are going to chat, just do it over the phone if she is unwilling to do it in person. Instead we have to schedule time to have the same conversations we could just spontaneously have otherwise. No doubt the same topics are covered either way: current books being read (her: John Grisham, me: Harry Potter), current projects (me refinishing a table, her crocheting) and the state of the real estate market (us: Wow! Where's the homes?). 

Jane's interest in Zooming is slightly more puzzling, given I talk to her on the phone about three times a week. However, I think this past Saturday she might have been carrying things a bit too far. She sent me a text at 8 a.m. "When are you free for a zoom call?"

I was running errands and had a lot on my plate, so I responded, "I'm not. What's up?"

"I just need to discuss something with you."

So I called her. "Let's just Zoom later ok? I will send you an invite," was her brisk reply to my phone call. Then she hung up. 

"Is everything ok?" I texted her. 

"Yea, just let me know when you can Zoom." 

 For the remainder of the day I was a mix of curiosity and worry. Was she ok? Was she dying? Randomly  I would hear from her asking if I was home yet so we could, "talk." 

"I can talk any time. Let me call you." I would reply. She wouldn't agree. 

In the end, I got back home around 2 p.m. and let her know I was finally available to sit at my computer and stare into a screen, which we did while Jane just filled me in on the latest--which was not urgent and could have easily been covered hours earlier with a spontaneous phone call. I adore Jane, but it seems she has gotten bit by the Zoom bug too.