Better Living without Cellphones

Whenever I go out these days, I face a dilemma—whether or not to eavesdrop. I’ve been getting a lot of practice in those virtual offices, otherwise known as public places, overhearing cellphone conversations. Eavesdropping may be too strong a word; being forced to hear halves of conversations is more accurate. I find myself perversely trying to guess what the person on the other end is saying, and it’s all I can do to make myself stop it. By eavesdropping, I’m implicating myself in the very rudeness that offends me so much.

I wish I could say I’ve overheard some stunning conversations—a diplomat negotiating peace in the Middle East or a heart surgeon getting summoned to emergency surgery. The conversations I end up overhearing are about as momentous as whether a fellow shopper should pick up lowfat or nonfat sour cream for tonight’s baked potatoes. All the while, that person’s standing there with the dairy case door wide open, oblivious to the fact that a line of other dairy product seekers is forming behind her.

I’m not the only person who gets irritated by the lack of cellphone etiquette. Over the years, others have attempted to make people stop talking on their phones. Signs prohibiting it are everywhere. My favorite is the one in the barber shop where my husband and sons get their hair cut: “Use your cellphone, pay me $10.” From my observations, though, signs asking people to refrain from using their cellphones are only marginally effective. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard someone talking on a phone at the movies, I could easily pay for several more movie tickets.

A few municipalities have made it illegal to drive while using a cellphone. Sounds good, but how do you enforce it? These laws will probably fail because they presuppose that common sense can be legislated. All you have to do is look around, and you’ll see all kinds of nonsensical behavior masquerading as “multi-tasking.” We live in a country where people use their cars as grooming parlors during their morning commutes. While they’re at it, legislators might as well make laws against driving while reading maps, or driving while applying mascara.

It’s also tempting to consider using signal-jamming technology to block calls in places where quiet is expected, but that only fights fire with fire. Why not use tried-and true methods first—limiting cellphone use to designated areas, in the same way that cigarette smoking is limited. Since cellphones are acing out phone booths, why not preserve the booths as designated cellphone areas? That way the rest of us who either know how to use our phones appropriately, or who don’t own them at all, can go back to enjoying an idyllic pre-cellphone existence. Besides, phone booths are worth saving for other uses. Where else is Clark Kent going to put on his Superman tights? How are a couple of dozen inebriated college students ever going to break the world record for the number of bodies crammed into a phone booth?

Seriously, though, I’m well aware that smoking and talking are two different things. Secondhand smoke is a proven hazard, while overhearing silly conversations is merely irritating. Attempting to impose limits on where people talk on their phones only conspires against what I would like to see—a more courteous world.

That’s why I’ve taken to trying to understand what drives people to misuse their phones. It’s true that an inflated sense of one’s own importance, an unexamined need to gratify every whim, a desire to keep strangers at a distance, a fear of being alone and a bit of exhibitionism are contributing factors. Another part of the problem lies in the way people in this country consume everything, from fast food to cellphone minutes. If people believe they’re getting a product or a service for a good price, they don’t hesitate to sign right up, whether or not they actually need that much of it. In the same way McDonald’s supersizes its meals for the supposed best value, wireless companies offer more minutes at a lower cost per minute. Never mind it’s more than most people need or can use; if they paid for it, they’d better use it! This arrangement accounts for at least some of the chatter.

Given all these complications, it seems cellphone chatter is here to stay. While I still get annoyed when I overhear people conducting private business in public, I’ve come to see it for what else it is. At the heart of all the chatter is a sincere desire to be in touch. People are just going about it the wrong way. In this fast-paced world, talking with the people we know about the things we know is a way to shrink the world to a more manageable size. Yet I argue people are missing a lot more by compulsively using their phones, when they could be participating in and observing more interesting things.

I recently witnessed a scene that illustrates what is lost when people talk on their phones in public places. While waiting for a flight, a high school student returning from an audition treated our waiting area to a cello performance. Most people there responded to her play with enthusiastic applause, asking for an encore and getting one. Some passers-by even stopped, recognizing the rarity of an impromptu musical performance in this setting. Conspicuously, people walking by as they talked on their phones didn’t stop to listen, instead weaving away from the bass sound of the cello. No doubt it interfered with their conversations.

Maybe there are some good souls out there who are unaware how their cellphone use is interfering with their simple enjoyment of life. For them I offer a cellphone use cessation program. Here’s how it works. Go out to a park, a mall or any public place of your choosing. Maybe you’ll witness a small child’s delight as a pair of ducks lands on a pond, or you’ll breathe in the scent of a flower garden in bloom. The only catch: you can’t use your cellphone. You may take it with you, on the off chance you encounter an emergency, but you must turn off the ringer. You can only speak to people who are breathing the same air as you. Let those messages go to voice mail. You can retrieve them later. What you can’t retrieve are those extraordinary opportunities to connect with the world that come and go in an instant.

Story ID:	1855
Written by:	Diana Shellenberger (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Longmont CO USA
Year:	2007