Dear Pepper is a monthly advice-column comic by Liana Finck. If you have questions for Pepper about how to act in difficult situations, please direct them to dearpepperquestions@gmail.com. Questions may be edited for brevity and clarity.
Dear Pepper,
I️ hate Zoom. And I hate talking on the phone. For the entire pandemic, my friends have been constantly asking me for Zooms and phone calls. I never know what to say. For one thing, a Zoom call will completely unbalance my day.
The invasiveness of Zoom calls is high and the degree of human connection (in my opinion) is comparatively low, so I like to avoid them when they’re not strictly necessary.
That said, I’m not much of a fan of the book-length e-mail or the long, drawn-out text conversation, either.
And of course it’s been harder during the pandemic to meet in person. I do meet people for walks within a mile or two of my apartment, and I talk on the phone sometimes, while I’m doing chores or when I go out for a run, but this limits me to a much smaller circle of friends. I feel that I should agree to Zoom calls with people I want to stay in touch with—so I do when asked. But then, when the time comes to choose a day and time, I️ just . . . don’t answer. I’ve seen many of my friendships cool because of both my refusal to Zoom and my refusal to admit that I don’t do Zoom.
Maybe it’s also just the nature of the pandemic in general, that we’re increasingly isolated. But who’s to say? Pepper, I’m tortured. What do I️ do?
Plop
Dear Plop (is that meant to be the opposite of Zoom?!),
Clearly, you shouldn’t Zoom.
And, this may sound crass, Plop, but maybe you also shouldn’t have so many friends.
Decide which friends you want to commit to—it can be because they live close to you or are otherwise convenient, or because you love them the most—and make an effort to offer those friends slightly less-onerous-to-you Zoom alternatives (phone calls, texts, e-mails, walks).
You can check in with other people quickly, now and then. Or not!
It sucks, Plop, but all of our needs are different now than they used to be. You’re like a person who’s moved to a remote country house but still has a closet full of ball gowns. And I’d imagine that your friends’ needs are different these days, too. So, even if people in your life stop falling quite so distinctly into the “friend” category, maybe they’ll become something more akin to “sympathetic acquaintances.” And, who knows—the line between a friend and a sympathetic acquaintance is faint indeed. Maybe one day the pandemic will end and you’ll find yourself excited to connect with them again.
Your furiend,
Pepper
