Voice mail is one of the most inefficient, socially awkward, and least user-friendly means of communication out there....
If the voice-mail leavers in your life are anything like those in mine, there's often no great reward for getting through your messages, either. Guess you're not there. Call me back. That message might have made sense in the days of home answering machines, when the main function of voice mail was to let someone know who you were and that you'd called—both things our phones now tell automatically. On the rare chance that you do get an important voice mail, your first move is to transfer the information to some more permanent medium—say, ink and paper. Unlike just about every other mode of electronic communication today, after all, voice mail can't be searched.
And don't spin me on how voice mail is somehow inherently warmer and more human than e-mail. Speaking into a dead phone has always seemed unnatural. That's why we stammer, ramble on, leave awkward pauses. I submit that whatever finally makes voice mail obsolete will make us all sound far more human—and a little more polished at that.
My personal issue with voice mail is the longer messages. I always think, what does the caller expect me to do, take notes? The answer of course is, yes some of them do actually expect that. Screw that, just send me an email.