Under the Wire

A friend recently asked why I have not written a column about these new fangled telephones. It was after the third time we were mysteriously cut off mid-sentence that he made the suggestion. “I have,” was my quick reply given without much thought first, my normal method of reacting to most situations. A few moments later, after taking my brain from neutral to first gear, I remembered what that column had been about.

My office at the old Livestock Exchange, Inc., where I was spending 60 to 80 hours a week had just been equipped with our new phone system. Push buttons, conference calls and most...