You’re on the phone to someone. It’s obviously someone, as you can’t talk to noone, and other things like household objects provide little to no conversational value anyway.
So you’re chatting away on your mobile phone; maybe you’re on a train, maybe you’re at the beach, maybe you’re stroking a donkey’s hair with a remote control. Your precise location means very little however, I’m just trying to set the scene.
Anyway. You’re mid-conversation when all of a sudden the phone call cuts out. (Get some credit you idiot. Oh, it’s your battery. Get a better phone.) Regardless as to why this occurred, it cuts out. It’s as if your partner in dialogue has just rudely disappeared in a Dhalsim-like teleportational move.
The philosophical question we then have to ponder is this. Who Calls Back?
If this sort of etiquette doesn’t have an official arrangement, you could end up going tit-for-tat with missed calls for minutes, dozens of them even.
Does the person who originally called do the call back? Or does the recipient? Or does the one who was in a riskier setting, such as a tunnel-bound train raise their hand and make the call? Or maybe the higher money earner? Or possibly the one wearing more yellow? But how would they know, unless they started the conversation with a quick tête-à-tête regarding the amount of yellow each one is wearing?
This is one of the unspoken problems we face in a very difficult time in personal communications. A time when we are slowly losing touch with conversational etiquette. A time when we are slaves to our devices.
And just like anti-slavery laws, noone really has the the right answer.