The ability to see yourself having a conversation isn't healthy. You don't need to strategically understand how to angle your face for the best real-time lighting. Photo / Getty Images
The ability to see yourself having a conversation isn't healthy. You don't need to strategically understand how to angle your face for the best real-time lighting. Photo / Getty Images
Bring back the regular audio phone call. I'm tired of seeing my own face, writes Lee Suckling.
Video calling seemed like such a saviour in the early days of the pandemic. It seemed just as good as real-life communication. You could talk with your loved ones, friends, colleagues and clientsin high definition. There's rarely any lag or glitches anymore, you can cast to your TV screen so they're larger than life – giving a feeling your company actually is in your living room.
Except, as we all know, they're not. Because they theoretically allow for increased intimacy, video calls are better than regular old audio calls. Or are they?
My tolerance for video calling has gone down the toilet. In the beginning, it was fun. An excuse to do your hair, choose a nice spot in your house with an appealing background, maybe even put on a spot of make-up. When they became part of the daily routine, I realised how much my own face in that small box in one corner bothers me.
The ability to see yourself having a conversation isn't healthy. You don't need to strategically understand how to angle your face for the best real-time lighting. You shouldn't be constantly readjusting your body's posture so you look more physically attractive to your audience. I still have no idea why any video calling services don't have the option to hide one's own face. Who wants to be visually reminded of their wonky teeth or double chin when they're trying to have a genuine connection with someone?
Let us also not forget the ubiquity of video calling has shunned a sense of social etiquette with others. Somehow it's become acceptable to video call somebody out of the blue – just to "check up" on them. It sounds nice, but in reality it gives many of us a deep sense of dread when we hear that very specific video ringtone. "Who video calls without a text asking if it's a good time, or pre-booking a slot in your day?" we wonder. It's as horrifying as somebody knocking on your door on a Sunday afternoon for an unannounced "pop in" – something I'm sure some romanticise, but I personally think is downright rude. I hate being caught unawares.
As we've expanded our networks wider during lockdowns to include friends and family overseas with whom we'd normally never normally think of video calling, this medium reminds us there's pressure to stay on a video call longer than all parties probably want to. You don't just video call somebody for a 90-second chat; it becomes a bit of an "event". Unlike with text messaging, you can't just double tap a person's last message to give it a heart emoji, and that's the end of the conversation. You must do all of the same pleasantries you'd do in real life, and suffer through awkward chat you would never otherwise entertain.
The format of video is also terribly frustrating when there's more than one person on the call. Having to mute and unmute your microphone – as appropriate – is a difficult skill few are able to master. Audio feedback and echoes are inevitable unless everybody uses
headphones. While it sounds like a civil idea to have to "wait your turn" to talk, in reality, one thing always happens with every polite group of people. We all say, "you go. No, you go!", to each other when trying to give somebody the space to speak. I can't imagine how things like parliamentary sessions or court appearances – where there's a certain expectation (or even art) of interruption by participants – will be able to manage the new video call world.
And let's not kid ourselves that Zoom birthdays and Houseparty happy hour quarantinis are as good as the real thing. There is value in telling ourselves a little white lie to get through the difficulties of a pandemic, but we shouldn't start to believe any of this compares to real, raw, unprocessed human contact.
Which brings me to my point. I love the regular audio phone call. The simple 1:1 communication tool that's been around for a century, allowing two people total privacy and freedom to express themselves without worry or self-censorship.
There's no fear of Zoombombing, no worrying about how you look, no requirement to even sit still. If you're as old as I am – and were at school during the 1990s (or earlier) – the phone call can easily last hours as you connect to somebody in an unfiltered and natural way. It's conversation, as conversation is supposed to be.
Video calls have saved a lot of people – myself included – from loneliness recently. They have their place, and they'll only continue in popularity in the future as we discover our socially-distant new norms. Just because you can see – and be seen on – a computer screen, however, doesn't mean it's the best communication channel out there.
