It's even bigger than phone sex. The booming helpline industry advises on everything from bipolar disorder to bladder control. But, reports Jehan Casinader, the service offered may be just as indulgent.
It's a small, sparse room, containing a bed, desk, lamp and phone. The walls are made of plaster, and there's barely a whisper of air through the tiny heating vent. Every evening, a volunteer hunkers down in this windowless room.
They don't get much sleep, though. The phone beside the bed will sometimes ring throughout the night. This room is part of the Wellington call centre for the Samaritans Helpline.
The call centre sits beneath the Anglican Cathedral, in an underground bunker that is referred to as "The Crypt" by the helpline's 100 volunteers. Along a narrow passageway with low ceilings, there are a few old filing cabinets, a case of yellowing books, and some paintings by schoolchildren. Here, the volunteers take 20,000 calls each year, from people who don't know where else to turn.
Peter, one of the volunteers, has been manning the phones in his spare time for 15 years. Not a lot has changed, he says. Most of the callers have always wanted to talk about relationships. But for some people, calling a helpline is a matter of life or death.
"One caller may say, 'I hate my situation and I want to kill myself, but I won't do it'," he says quietly. "That's quite different from a caller who says, 'I'm suicidal, and I have every intention of taking my own life'. Every time one of those calls comes in, my adrenalin kicks in. Fortunately, we don't get those calls every day."
The Samaritans line has been operating for 45 years, but many helplines are new creations, some fly-by-nighters. Most target social groups, based on callers' ethnicity, gender, location or need. Some, such as Quitline, have a high public presence. Others, such as the Phobic Helpline, keep a low profile.
In the world of helplines, no topic or issue is off limits. Counsellors are standing by, waiting to hear about your drinking habits, financial woes and anything else on your mind. Most of the operators are not health professionals, but they're trained to offer some words of wisdom, and suggest where you can turn next.
But are they adding any value to our wellbeing?
Top fashion designer Denise L'Estrange-Corbet certainly thinks so. Having experienced depression, she fronted one of New Zealand's earliest mental health campaigns in the 1990s. One day, she says, she may need to pick up the phone.
But she also knows helplines are not always effective.
"A year ago," she recalls, "one of my friends needed help. He called a helpline, but kept getting the answerphone. He told me, 'They're useless. I can't get through.' The time you often need that kind of help is at night, when you can't call your GP. You can't turn up at the hospital and say, 'I want to kill myself', because hospitals don't provide mental health services. So you may call a helpline."
One of the numerous helplines targeted at children and youth, the What's Up line, says it is almost out of money, can answer barely one in four calls, and is on the brink of closure.
There's no data on the quality of helplines in New Zealand, and our helplines are not assessed by any central agency.
"I found the person I rang on the gambling addiction helpline totally useless," writes Sandy, a user of an online forum. "She kept asking me what I thought I should do, and there were all these really long pauses which I found rather daunting. She admitted she had never had a gambling problem but told me she was a trained counsellor. It doesn't really work with me, as I don't feel they know what I'm going through."
Calling a helpline is not a panacea. Health experts agree that although helplines can help to avert a personal crisis, they can't solve any long-term problems.
Some callers, says Gambling Helpline chief executive Maria Bellringer, "expect us to tell them what to do". Instead, the helpline wants the callers to reach their own conclusions.
Regardless of the advice offered, the lines are in hot demand. Last year, the national depression helpline reported a threefold increase in calls.
Youthline said its interaction with young people was six times greater than in previous years. The operators say that doesn't mean more people are in need. It simply means more of us are willing to reach out when we need to talk.
That talk is cheap. In fact, most helplines are free. But do the conversations make any difference? Some international research claims helplines can reduce callers' risk of suicide, improve their sense of connectedness, and help them to access vital support services.
But some critics argue it's just another example of our obsessive need, in a world of online networking and reality TV, to talk about ourselves.
Mental Health Foundation chief executive Judi Clements wants people to seek help, but she emphasises that helplines "should not be a substitute for mental health services".
The rise of helplines is part of a trend called tele-health - the use of telecommunications tools to access health services. Some people are using those services in unexpected ways.
On election night in 2008, helplines reported a spike in calls from people who were distraught after National's win. Their worries may sound frivolous, but helpline operators say no issue is too small.
Bernadine, a Samaritan volunteer, says helplines are not designed to spoon-feed the callers. "But often there's an elephant in the room which no one wants to talk about. Sometimes, when you're talking to a caller, you think they're about to say something, and then they skirt around it. If you're patient they may come back to it. It may be something important, but they have to be comfortable to broach it. It takes patience."
There are numerous services competing to advise us on every little problem in our lives, and competing for a slice of the funding from government, lotteries and charitable donors.
For instance, a bullied child or teenager might call 0800 NO BULLY, the Child Helpline, Kidsline, What's Up or Youthline.
The size of New Zealand's helpline industry is hazy. The Ministry of Social Development said it could take weeks to collate a list of how many helplines are government-funded. Youthline chief executive Stephen Bell estimates there are 120 helplines in New Zealand. Surveys show one in six Kiwi adults has phoned a helpline in the past 12 months.
A helpline is a bit like a safety net for a climber: it's there in case the harness breaks.
Perhaps our use of helplines shows we're disconnected from support networks within our own communities. But Grant Taylor, director of children's helpline What's Up, believes helplines should be accepted as a useful part of any healthy society.
"I grew up in rural New Zealand. Everyone knew everyone else's business. That culture has some benefits, but it also has downsides. It leaves little room for privacy. Kids want to confide in people who don't have a vested interest in them."
What's Up is part of a global child helpline industry. Children make 10.5 million calls to helplines each year. The UN is calling for a central helpline number, to redirect callers in any country to a local service.
But while helplines remain popular, text lines are also growing. Youthline received 220,000 text messages last year.
"On the phone, you build rapport and you pace the conversation," says Youthline's Stephen Bell. "When you get a text, it's different. We get a text saying, 'I'm pregnant. My boyfriend has left. My family kicked me out'. It can go from whoah to go very quickly. We may hear from a young person who has been abused, and there is gang involvement. Do we call CYF or the police? Would that make her more or less safe?"
Bell says New Zealand has 10,000 to 12,000 young people who have "high, complex needs". Some of them call Youthline up to 50 times a day. At one point, 80 per cent of Youthline's calls were made by serial callers who jammed the lines. But they don't call because they're bored, says Bell. They call because they're desperate.
Morgyn Hartdegen was 17 when she began using Youthline's face-to-face counselling service. For more than two years after the counselling ended, she used the text service as a lifeline to prevent herself from turning to alcohol and drugs.
Now, at 22, she is a Youthline phone operator, and has insight into the callers' minds. But she agrees that it's unhealthy for anyone to develop a dependency on a helpline.
"We don't want to become a crutch. But many people who call a helpline have gone unnoticed by society, and they have no one to connect with. I have been there, and I understand what it's like," she says."If I hadn't used the service, I may have committed suicide."
New Zealand's helpline industry is set to grow. Coroner Wallace Bain is calling for a new helpline to provide help to those in jail, after a man committed suicide in a cell because he could not access legal help.
Last month, the Government created a helpline to advise people about how to comply with the "anti-smacking" law.
Most helplines are funded by community grants and donations, and money is tight. Some services have been on the verge of closure. Plunketline was saved by the Government after a public outcry. Last year, the Gambling Helpline announced it would shut, but it was spared by a Ministry of Health decision to extend its funding.
But while many helplines have come and gone, the Samaritans line has survived for 45 years.
When they leave "The Crypt" at the end of each shift, the phone counsellors do not know the outcome of their calls they took. Did the caller stay safe? Did their state of mind improve after they hung up? Will they seek more help? Those questions can't easily be answered. But the volunteers know they're providing a vital lifeline.
"The night shift is the most rewarding shift," says Charlotte, another of the operators, "because that's the time we're needed most. People call us to have conversations they can't have with anyone else.
"For many people, the fact that we exist is a big strength. If all else fails, and if they run out of options, they can always pick up the phone."
Help for every occasion
* Bladder Helpline: The New Zealand Continence Association provides advice for people whose lives are affected by bladder and bowel problems.
* Food Safety Helpline: Over Christmas, the helpline received a call from a person who found a peacock in their garden and was considering eating it.
* Phobic Helpline: A crisis line for people suffering panic attacks, distress, anxiety disorders and compulsive disorders.
* Herpes Helpline: This service was shut down last year, after a text prank caused the lines to be flooded by 72,000 prank calls in the space of five days.
* Pillars Helpline: Provides support to people who have been affected by the imprisonment of a friend or family member.
