Stuck on the metro without your Tetris? Here's one of those fun, pass-the-time questions that's good for a few minutes of deep thought. If, while in Russia, you suddenly found yourself at the mercy of masked gunmen, what would you rather do? Eat a bucket of rat poison or accomplish a single task -- finding out where to get a volume discount on rat poison, for example -- using only the telephone?


Okay, okay, a little too obvious. Anyone who's been here for any amount of time knows to grab the rat poison while they've got the chance. Why prolong your misery? The result is one and the same. First the nausea, then the severe stomach pains, followed by loss of consciousness and ultimately death. Using the phone in Russia can be fatal.


This is hardly news. What is surprising, though, is that the phone can have just as lethal an effect on the very locals who wield it so effectively as on the mild-mannered foreigners who have been brought up to believe that before one hangs up, one often says goodbye, purely out of courtesy. Yes, even Russians themselves can be worn down by telephone transactions, although you'll notice it doesn't make them any gentler when it's their turn to dish it out. Even total cream puffs sound like fire-breathing dragons through the receiver.


Considering all the sinister Soviet images a ringing phone can conjure up, Russians' natural disdain isn't all that surprising. You might even call it a healthy fear. There's nothing the Western world loves more than solving all of its problems from deep within its apartments or offices, safe in the clean, faceless world of phones and faxes. But Russians would rather do things in person.


Relatives will spend huge amounts of time and money traveling across borders and time zones to argue face to face instead of tepidly mumbling into crackling lines from afar. They'll even come just to give each other the silent treatment -- always much more of a hit in person than over the phone.


"Eto ne telefonny razgovor," bureaucrats will assert, dodging questions with the artful argument that it's a topic so delicate that risking a phone tap is inadvisable, or so complex that it's better discussed at length over a cup of tea. "This isn't a conversation for the phone," they say. "Why don't you stop by my office instead?"


It's enough to make a journalist's heart sink, let alone a perfect innocent who just wants to find out or communicate something fast and without major emotional commitment. But it's still the friendlier approach. Better to look your prey deep and meaningfully in the eye than try to enchant him with your sterling phone manners fading in and out. It'll do wonders for your life expectancy.