I came downstairs this morning to find the Yellow Pages poking through my letterbox. Upside down those fingers that do the walking looked like they were telling me to go fuck myself, which wasn't the best way for a moribund publication to introduce itself.
I find it hard to believe that in the internet age the Yellow Pages is still shuffling along. Of course not everyone has the internet, but we must be reaching a tipping point where the economic effectiveness of printing up all these directories is compromised. I can't think of the last time I used any kind of phone directory. It's at least five years, maybe even ten. In a way I am impressed the Yellow Pages has kept going this long.
Though it's a shadow of its former self. The very fact that it can fit through the letterbox demonstrates that. In days gone by the hefty book was left on your doorstep to be weed on by cats and foxes, but now it's shrunk in every direction. How long before it becomes the Yellow Page? It's diminishing stature is good news for any weakling wannabe strong men such as myself. Back in the 70s you'd have to be Geoff Capes of Brian Jacks to rip one of these babies in half, but now even a tired 45 year old man can have a crack at it. I managed it with very little exertion. It felt great. Is there any danger I will regret this destruction? It seems unlikely. A power cut might knock out my wi-fi just as my boiler explodes, but my mobile has 3G so that would have to be out of batteries too, though I could charge it from one of my computers. So if by some chance nothing in my house was charged and there was a power cut and a simultaneous emergency then I should be OK. And if there was a power cut and my mobile didn't work then I wouldn't be able to use the Yellow Pages anyway as my land-line needs to be connected to the mains. If I need a French polishers then I can use google, if I want to find a copy of my own out-of-print book I can find it and order it in the time it would take to dial the number of one book shop. Admittedly if I want to kiss the taller girl who lives next door I am pretty much screwed, though if I am desperate enough I can always pile up my electronic devices to make a rudimentary and highly fragile step.
Surely the days of the Yellow Pages are numbered - I am quite flabbergasted that it's still going if I am honest. I know that not everyone has a computer and that old people might prefer to use the familiar format, but it seems pretty wasteful to send these out to absolutely everyone, though I would guess it wouldn't be able to make any money if you had to opt in to receive it (because how many people would?). I guess the businesses that still advertise in this slim volume do so because it's going to hit every doorstep in the land. But environmentally it's a disaster - certainly in the past directories weren't even recyclable (though someone on Twitter said they are now). It's sad to see something once so familiar fall out of use, but what we have now is so much more efficient and user-friendly. In the old days if you looked for a plumber you had to pick the advert that you thought looked most trustworthy and hope for the best (I was constantly ripped off by all tradesmen for years) but now you can search out reviews, compare and contrast. It's not like the internet eliminates fraud (I am still waiting for the million dollars promised me by an ex-Ugandan prince) but it gives us more choice and can save a lot of time (which we're then free to waste on Twitter or pornography). But look J R Hartley, I found
your book in 3 seconds and can compare and contrast for the best price (probably best to go for the £3.73 used copy rather than the £76.98 brand new one) So I win. Plus I am also real, so that's 2-0 to me.
And I am as strong as Geoff Capes. Old J R Hartley couldn't even rip up his own imaginary (but then weirdly actual) book. RKH 3 JRH 0.
As a post-script I will share a joke I was fond of retelling at the time of that advert. Old man on the phone, "Do you have a copy of "The Go-Between? You do? Marvelous. Oh yes, my name. It's L P Hartley."
Problem is that if you get the joke you've got it after the first line, but if you haven't got the joke by then you're not going to get it. Still almost as good as "I know this place like the back of my hand" (pointing at the front of my hand as I say this).
Ah, my juvenilia. When will it end?
