The whole phone reading thing? I used to think it was a load of rubbish. Seriously. I’ve been reading cards for what feels like forever, always sitting across a table from someone, needing that physical connection, that whole atmospheric vibe. You know, candles, incense, the works. I always said, “Tarot needs touch, it needs presence.”
Then, last year, my main reading spot hiked the rent, and honestly, gas prices just about drove me insane trying to get to the monthly markets. I realized I had to adapt or quit. I had to figure out how to keep giving good advice without leaving my ridiculously comfy armchair. So, I decided to test the waters with phone readings. I figured, what’s the worst that can happen? I look foolish and lose ten bucks.
My first step, I locked in a dedicated time slot. I knew I needed a solid hour of silence. I went straight for the smallest, windowless room in the house—the laundry room, believe it or not. I cleared out the folding pile and set up a folding chair and a small shelf for my deck. Total commitment to the bit, right?
Setting Up the System
Next, the tech. This is where I struggled. I couldn’t use my regular phone; the mic was terrible. I ended up buying a half-decent USB headset, the kind gamers use. It sounds silly, but it made the audio crystal clear for the client. I tested the setup, getting my sister to call me a dozen times while I shuffled and talked to the wall. I needed to make sure I could sound natural and the cards wouldn’t sound like a bunch of rocks crashing through the phone line.
I advertised my first three slots for free. Not “free,” but donation-based. I wanted zero pressure. I sent out a quick email blast to my small list, saying I was doing “beta tests” for telephone readings. This got me three guinea pigs straight away. I charged them nothing but a promise of honest feedback.
The Disaster of the First Call
The first call, man, what a mess. I started off strong. The client, a nervous lady named Sarah, was asking about a job change. I pulled the first card—something great, like the Ten of Pentacles. I began to explain its meaning. Everything was smooth. Then, the silence… It was deafening. Unlike in-person where you see the nod, the tiny smile, or the frown, over the phone, dead silence just feels like they’ve hung up or maybe fallen asleep.
I kept talking, trying to fill the void. I started to rush. Then, my dog—the little jerk—really got into it with the Amazon delivery guy outside. Barking, slamming, chaos. I couldn’t hear myself think. I panicked. I fumbled the cards. I literally had to stop the reading, profusely apologize, and call her back ten minutes later when the dog was safely locked in the kitchen. It felt like a total failure. I sent her a full refund, even though she didn’t pay anything, just to apologize for the unprofessional clown show.
What I Fixed and Why You Need To Copy It
I sat down later that night, feeling awful. But this failure taught me more than a hundred perfect face-to-face readings ever could. I realized the phone reading isn’t a conversation; it’s a very specific performance that needs strict rules. Here’s what I changed, and these simple moves saved my operation:
- I Started Pulling Cards BEFORE the Call: This is the secret. I now ask the client to email me their question 10 minutes before the call. I pull the main spread (maybe three or five cards) while they are still waiting for me to call them. I write down the main points and snap a quick picture of the layout. This removes the stress of shuffling perfectly while listening and talking. It makes the reading faster and more focused.
- I Banished the Silence: I made it a rule: The client must be talking or reacting constantly. I start the call by telling them, “I’m going to pull the first card now. When I say the name, I need you to just say ‘I see it’ or just repeat the name back to me. It keeps the line open and I know you’re still there.” This small trick built a bridge between us.
- I Put a Giant, Stupid Sign on the Door: No more “maybe the dog will be quiet.” I taped up a laminated sign that read: “ON THE PHONE. LIFE OR DEATH EMERGENCY ONLY. DO NOT ENTER.” It worked. My family started taking the readings seriously.
- I Incorporated Visuals via Email: After the reading, I send the quick picture I took of the cards and a one-paragraph summary. It adds that “physical takeaway” that people miss from in-person readings. They love it.
Why am I sharing this rough start with you? Because that disaster with Sarah? It wasn’t the end. She appreciated the honesty, the instant refund, and the quick follow-up. She came back for another reading, paid full price, and told two of her friends in a city five states away. This whole phone setup blew up faster than my little local market ever did. I’m able to read for anyone, anywhere, and I make a solid income now, all from the quiet little laundry room that used to hold dirty socks.
It’s all about planning. You can’t treat the phone like a face-to-face chat. You have to manage the visuals, the noise, and the silence. Take it from me, the guy who screwed up his first real opportunity: follow these simple tactical changes, and you’ll be giving better advice than you ever did in person.
