I don’t believe in voicemail. It’s a completely pointless means of communication that is nothing more than a conspiracy developed by wireless communications companies.

Every month, upon receipt of yet another astronomical phone bill, my dad will call me – usually during the weekday daytime minutes, of which he complains I use too many – and ask, “Christina, is it really necessary to check your voicemail that often?”

Well, Dad, if it were up to me, I would never check my voicemail. But then my mother would probably have a nervous breakdown of sorts if she called my number and Verizon’s automated service greeted her with the message that my mailbox was full. Then, she couldn’t leave one of the typically futile messages I receive from her on a daily basis.

I think many of you know the ones I’m talking about. The Mom Message. We all have different mothers, so all the messages are different, but the concept is the same. My mom’s messages adhere to a strict format. First, the greeting.

“Hey, Christina …(long pause)… it’s your mom.” I always laugh after that part. My mother thinks it is necessary to clarify whose voice it is on the other end. Thanks, Mom. If I didn’t recognize your voice after 20 years, your number on my caller ID was a sure sign that you called.

After the greeting, my mom usually adds some other information that she believes is imperative for me to know immediately:

“I was watching the news earlier, and Bob Breck said there’s a slight chance of rain tomorrow, so you may want to be sure to bring…”

Delete. And delete two daytime minutes, too.

The next kind of message is the worst. It’s the one-person-conversation message. Usually, people that you don’t talk to regularly are guilty of leaving this type of message. And more often than not, you are stuck listening to the whole thing because they refuse to state their purpose until the bitter end.

This happened to me last week.

“Hey, Christina, it’s Ms. Madary. I was wondering if you could baby-sit for Anna this weekend. I know it’s late notice, and you probably already have plans, but we can just go grab a quick bite to eat and go to a movie or something. That way, we’d be back in plenty of time for you to go out afterwards. You could even invite a friend over if you want. It’s just that ever since Anna was born, we never get to have a quiet evening together, so if you could call me back …”

Beep.

Thankfully, Verizon cut her off before I could.

But the worst thing about the conversation message is that when I returned the call, I received the exact lecture I had just suffered through for four of my daytime minutes.

Then, there are the occasional incredibly short messages that are still a waste of my miniature allotment of daytime minutes.

“Hey, Christina, call me back.”

I really do appreciate your brevity, but if I see your number in the “Missed Call” log, I will call you back. These five words still cost me a minute.

And the wireless companies know that – it’s all part of the conspiracy.

I’ve tried it all. I’ve tried not leaving messages so that people won’t leave me messages. But for some reason, it’s regarded as rude to hang up without leaving a message. I’ve called people back without checking messages, which often makes them irritated that they wasted their daytime minutes leaving a message that I have no intention of listening to. I’ve even flat-out asked people not to leave me messages because I’ll probably just delete them anyway.

But as always, Mom will be there. You can count on her – for anything.

Christina Blanco is a communications junior from New Orleans.