I remember when telephone books were as crucial to the reporters’ craft as spiral notebooks and Marlboros.
Not long ago, a 20-something person asked me if I had someone’s phone number, no doubt after some fruitless Google search.
“It’s listed in the phone book,” I said, thinking he would be pleased at such an easy solution.
Instead, he looked befuddled, as if I’d said: “The number you request is written in Sanskrit on the back of your eyelids, Grasshopper.”
I had to walk through the newsroom to confirm my suspicion. Indeed, only about half of our reporters even have a phone book on their desks. With some of our younger folks, the phone book is practically obsolete — the idea that you would actually look up a person’s name, in alphabetical order, must seem to them like some sort of weird, 20th-century magic trick.