Talkin’ bout the wireless generation

MAXINE COHEN

By the time I awoke last Friday and checked my voice mail, I already

had two messages from readers. Throughout the day, more comments

trickled in by voice and e-mail. Apparently, I’ve struck a chord in

the community with my column about loud cellphone users. Surprised

me. This has long been a hot issue of mine but I didn’t know so many

of you felt the same way.

For those of you who didn’t read my column last week, I wrote

about waiting while my car was washed at a local car wash and having

to endure the loud voice of a man talking on and on, on his cell. My

space was invaded and I had no choice in the matter. I commented that

this man -- and by extension people who do this -- are not merely

inconsiderate and disrespectful but are tuned out and so unaware of

other people and the effect they have on them. And that such a high

level of self-involvement may indicate a narcissistic injury.

I could have gone on and on, talking about other facets of

cellphone use that bug me, and my experiences with them, but there

simply wasn’t space. I would have filled up all of page six, rather

than just my allotment. So I’m going to let readers do it for me

here. This is what a few of your neighbors had to say.

One reader said, “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your column

... I was in a crowded doctor’s waiting room when in walked a young

man who ... pulled out his cell phone and proceeded to have this

obnoxious conversation about a girl he had met in a bar the previous

evening. The whole office could hear him. An elderly couple...said

they did not feel they should have to listen to [this].” “I wish

people would get real and understand that the general public are not

interested in their conversations and that 90% of these could be done

in the privacy of their own homes. Thank you for being a sounding

board.”

Another reader left this message:

“Thank you. I, too, have issues with the overbearing loudness of

people on cellphones. I encounter it quite a bit at Gelson’s, while

ladies are pushing their grocery carts around oblivious to who

they’re blocking, who they’re bumping into, who they’re

inconveniencing. It’s an interesting need that we all feel we have to

be special at the expense of everyone else. So thank you for your

contribution. Maybe we can all be considerate of each other.”

Another reader said, “I couldn’t agree more ... Every time I’m in

a restaurant, trying to enjoy my meal, in an already crowded place

where everyone is talking to one another, I see red when I hear a

cellphone ring and realize that now yet another conversation is going

to be added to the mix. So thank you for writing this. Wouldn’t it be

nice if we’d all just stop and think about how we’re affecting

others?”

And I thank you for all your comments and taking the time to let

me know. Couldn’t have said it better myself but I’d still like to

add my two cents.

Talking on a cell is one thing. Bad manners, yes. But what makes

it worse is when people talk so loud. I guess it’s that narcissistic

need to feel special again because what’s the point if no one can

hear you? Or maybe it’s this generation of young people who seem to

yell at each other even when they’re face to face.

Another thing. What’s going on with always being reachable? I

can’t tell you how many times I’ve made a call only to be greeted by,

“Can’t talk to you right now. I’m in the middle of

[you-fill-in-the-blank].” That makes me crazy. Why answer at all if

you can’t talk, when the call will go to voice mail anyway? It seems

to be commonplace when people are in meetings but the best one of all

time was the man who picked up and in this stressed voice snapped,

“Can’t talk right now. I’m about to go into eye surgery.”

Give me a break.

The strange thing is, even though it’s such a common occurrence, I

can’t get over the sense of somehow having done something wrong, of

having intruded on someone, of having been in the wrong place at the

wrong time, of having offended. I feel this sense of surprise and

confusion while at the same time, I know that I couldn’t possibly

have known what was going on with the other person when I called.

Many of the people on their cells are by themselves. What’s with

that? Is this the modern equivalent of reading a book while dining

alone in a restaurant? Is it like being with another person in

absentia? Or is it designed to alleviate the awkwardness of appearing

all alone to others, to alleviate your own anxiety about being alone

with yourself and having no distractions, or to create the illusion

that you are connected?

Like the man I saw at Observation Point Sunday, sitting on the

grass mound in his beach chair, on his cell -- talking at a

reasonable volume, thankfully -- and paying more attention to his

conversation than the gorgeous view he’d ostensibly come to see. Or

the man who asked politely if he could join me on the unoccupied

bench I’d found and then proceeded to pull out his cell; disgusted, I

got up and left.

All I know is that our little piece of paradise is so crammed full

of people already that bringing in extraneous conversations only

contributes to overload. Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a

pinball machine, bombarded on all sides by stimuli.

The thing is, I think I may have accidentally stumbled upon the

antidote. The other morning, early -- way too early for me -- I was

walking my dog, Maggie, and whistling. I like to whistle; my father

used to whistle and I seem to do it without even knowing I am. So, I

was whistling away and I half noticed this man on a cell pacing back

and forth on the sidewalk. As I came toward him, he suddenly noticed

my whistling and turned and high-tailed it the other way. Guess it

was just too much noise for him to hear. Whadaya know? Hooray.

I was taking my daughter, Barbara, to John Wayne Airport and I

told her about this column and the comments I’d received from people

in the community. She’s 24. Interestingly enough, she had her own set

of beefs.

“My friends and I just hate it when older (she was kind enough to

add the “er”) people just let their cells ring and ring when they

don’t want to take the call. Why don’t they just put it to voice

mail?”

“What do you mean, just put it to voice mail?” I asked.

“Ohmigod, Mom,” she said. “Not you, too. Of course, I should have

known. There’s a button on the phone that lets you interrupt the

ringing immediately and send the call to voice mail.”

With that, she whipped out her cell and showed me the “ignore”

button.

News to me.

I asked her to show me on my phone, which she did. Good thing it’s

not been my practice to leave my cell on all the time or I’d be one

of those people driving the 20-something set crazy.

Quite the ringing issue of our time, I’d say -- no matter how you

call it.

* MAXINE COHEN is a Corona del Mar resident and a marriage and

family therapist practicing in Newport Beach whose column will appear

regularly. She can be reached at [email protected] or (949)

644-6435.