In those prehistoric 1970s, our dormitory had a house phone on the wall, and it served the entire floor. Whoever answered it would scream out a name loudly upon learning for whom the call was intended. Of course, it might take a couple of minutes for the summoned to get there.
The dilemma was, there was nowhere to leave the business part of the phone without hanging it up. The top of the wall unit looked as it might just be wide enough, so the answerer would balance the hand unit on top of the wall unit and walk off.
Well, it invariably fell off, hit the floor, and bounced several times. I know because once I had a room just opposite the house phone.* Several dozen times every day and night I’d hear “H’lo? Yeah. HEY, ALBERT! IT’S FER YOUUUUUUU!” Followed by BAP-CRACK! BAP! BAp! Bap! bap.
But they (mostly Bell) made the phones tough in those days. That phone survived my college years so far as I know.
*When I had that room, I never answered the ringing, because I knew that it could turn into a permanent job quite swiftly.