A surprisingly useful guide to Christmas wishes

Aaah, another Christmas. What better way to get in a festive mood than a good old story from the past? No, this is not the one about of the ghost of Christmas past or Mr. Scrooge, I promise.
This is a short, happy story. You'll have enough time for suicidal thoughts and worry about financial trouble when the in-laws are at the door.

[Light harp music...]

Twenty years ago, there were no hands-free sets. Or if there were, they were for mobile phones and I only had a fixed landline. My parents did. I was using theirs, on account on living in their house.
There were many consequences to this. My girlfriend at the time was very very (I think I missed a "very") very (no, there it is) chatty on the phone, and I was at the age when I could not even consider the possibility that I could break up with a girlfriend. I had to improvise and adapt instead, which I did: I held the receiver with one hand learned how to play Need for Speed with a single hand. Don't think of nasty things; Internet came from dial-up in those days, and someone was on the phone already, telling me how her marine biology classes went that day, not missing any detail. Not a single detail. None. For the one or two young people reading this, I realize it is not very helpful to describe an old technology by means of a dead technology: it only means internet was very slow. Too slow for video, anyway. Also, I may have rounded up the numbers, you're not that many if I count all my readers across all age-segments. For the other reader of this story, Need for Speed is a simulation of a racing simulation game. You may remember it from recent movies inspired by it, with fancy graphics and sound effects to make up for lack of talent (more on that topic later). There was something special about playing computer games back then, some unique sensations you cannot get today with all the modern technology: the dizziness induced by the blurry flickering image from a CRT monitor; the sound of the most expensive cars in the world blaring through the most inexpensive speakers in the world, outdone only by my parents yelling to put the damn phone down because they were expecting a call from my aunt. All those memories... some of them wiped for good because storage was tiny and unreliable. I guess many things were like that back then. Would you please stop thinking about nasty things already? I'm trying to keep things clean here. It's Christmas, for #*&'s sake.

Another consequence was that I learned how to pretend I was paying attention to boring conversation while doing interesting things instead. This is one of the most critical skills if you're working in technology. With people that don't understand technology. But think they do. And really don't. And call you. You get it. They don't. Anyway. Yes. This is what I referred to earlier when I said "later".

No, this is not yet another story about those support calls. It's not even about calls. Now it's easier, people no longer call. I told you. Short and happy.
They send you a message with a picture these days instead. And maybe a second one with the text, because it's hard to join them and two notification chimes are better than one. If they are relatives, it's an animated GIF instead of a picture. And if they're close relatives, it's a link to a video. And if they're old and close, they make sure to attach the video. And since it's a time of giving and sharing, they send it to everyone in the address book. Sharing the joy with the postman somehow makes things better. But what's that? I think I hear the doorbell. [Light (s)harp music...] I'm off for the single malt and that carving knife. Time to find out who's the next ghost of Christmas pas... damn it! I broke the promise. Well, I guess that's another seven years of hell; this is how long the dinner feels like when you don't really drink single malt and the chatty (now) wife is smart enough to hide the sharp cutlery. Well, I guess that's all for now. Merry Christmas, everyone, and remember: tap the three dots on the screen in the top-right; select Settings > Privacy > All conversations; tap Mute for 1 year; tap OK. I told you, happy ending!