Exactly.....
Saturday » June 14 » 2008
Why do cellphone users condemn us to share their tiresome chatter?
John Martin
Special to The Province
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
One evening back in the dreadful '70s, four or five of us decided to venture from the bland cul-de-sacs of Richmond and check out the mean streets of skid row.
It was yet to be known as the Downtown Eastside, and was more pitiful than dangerous at the time.
True, there was a fair bit of heroin. But for the most part, Main and Hastings was a refuge for low-income pensioners who spent the bulk of their waking hours in the many beer parlours that lined the streets.
The first thing we noticed upon entering one of these watering holes was the staggering decibel level.
But there was no music -- and upon closer examination, almost everyone was sitting by themselves, babbling incoherently to no one in particular.
I was reminded of this image last week while riding the West Coast Express from Mission to the Waterfront Station.
It had been years since I rode the train and things were remarkably different this time.
Every second person was chattering on their cellphone the entire trip.
It didn't matter what car or level I moved to, I didn't detect a single, normal conversation between two passengers seated side by side.
Instead, people were literally screaming into their phones and had zero apprehension about how public their conversations were.
Somewhere along the line -- and cellphones are not the sole reason -- we have collectively opted to forfeit any semblance of personal space.
Recall in the days of phone booths how we'd always glare at the next person waiting to make a call if they stood too close?
Everyone closed the door and typically cupped the receiver to minimize the possibility of strangers eavesdropping.
Similarly, when we would use the row of pay phones in malls or hotel lobbies, we'd move as far away from the next person as the cord would allow, to maintain some privacy.
And those in line fully understood the etiquette of the day to stand several feet away, much as we tend to do with ATM machines in modern times.
But now there is absolutely no concern over who hears our conversations, no matter how personal.
Given that most people talk two or three times louder than they need to on a cell, it would seem we actually want the world to listen in on our business.
This isn't simply about being rude and annoying.
It's also about people having delusions of self-importance and insisting on sharing their life stories.
Unfortunately though, most people aren't nearly as interesting as they apparently think they are.
And given all the blather I had to endure on the train last week, I'd say many aren't even as interesting as, well, the old rummies in that beer parlour on Hastings Street 30-odd years ago.
Contact John Martin, a criminologist at the University of the Fraser Valley, at John.Martin@ucfv.ca
© The Vancouver Province 2008
Copyright © 2008 CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
Saturday » June 14 » 2008
Why do cellphone users condemn us to share their tiresome chatter?
John Martin
Special to The Province
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
One evening back in the dreadful '70s, four or five of us decided to venture from the bland cul-de-sacs of Richmond and check out the mean streets of skid row.
It was yet to be known as the Downtown Eastside, and was more pitiful than dangerous at the time.
True, there was a fair bit of heroin. But for the most part, Main and Hastings was a refuge for low-income pensioners who spent the bulk of their waking hours in the many beer parlours that lined the streets.
The first thing we noticed upon entering one of these watering holes was the staggering decibel level.
But there was no music -- and upon closer examination, almost everyone was sitting by themselves, babbling incoherently to no one in particular.
I was reminded of this image last week while riding the West Coast Express from Mission to the Waterfront Station.
It had been years since I rode the train and things were remarkably different this time.
Every second person was chattering on their cellphone the entire trip.
It didn't matter what car or level I moved to, I didn't detect a single, normal conversation between two passengers seated side by side.
Instead, people were literally screaming into their phones and had zero apprehension about how public their conversations were.
Somewhere along the line -- and cellphones are not the sole reason -- we have collectively opted to forfeit any semblance of personal space.
Recall in the days of phone booths how we'd always glare at the next person waiting to make a call if they stood too close?
Everyone closed the door and typically cupped the receiver to minimize the possibility of strangers eavesdropping.
Similarly, when we would use the row of pay phones in malls or hotel lobbies, we'd move as far away from the next person as the cord would allow, to maintain some privacy.
And those in line fully understood the etiquette of the day to stand several feet away, much as we tend to do with ATM machines in modern times.
But now there is absolutely no concern over who hears our conversations, no matter how personal.
Given that most people talk two or three times louder than they need to on a cell, it would seem we actually want the world to listen in on our business.
This isn't simply about being rude and annoying.
It's also about people having delusions of self-importance and insisting on sharing their life stories.
Unfortunately though, most people aren't nearly as interesting as they apparently think they are.
And given all the blather I had to endure on the train last week, I'd say many aren't even as interesting as, well, the old rummies in that beer parlour on Hastings Street 30-odd years ago.
Contact John Martin, a criminologist at the University of the Fraser Valley, at John.Martin@ucfv.ca
© The Vancouver Province 2008
Copyright © 2008 CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
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