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More than I want to hear
I'm guessing that the idea behind phone booths in the first place was decorum: Your conversations were supposed to be your business, and not that of anyone who happened to be within earshot.
Today ... well, you may as well have a megaphone.
As I'm typing, I'm listening - or more accurately, trying not to listen - to a woman who apparently is speaking by cellphone with a business associate.
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The woman obviously wants to make sure the party on the other end captures her every syllable. I know I am.
But should that bother me? I'll admit to having similar conversations, what with the inconsistency of cellphone reception and often being asked, "What did you say?"
Like the traveling American trying to make someone who doesn't speak English understand, the solution: Talk louder.
Often, I'll get up and walk away from the folks I happen to be near, but that usually means I'm walking toward a whole new set of people.
Years ago, when the cellphone still was kind of a novelty, I interviewed a woman about related etiquette. At that point, subjecting nonparticipants to ostensibly private conversations was a definite breach, and she, indeed, recommended going elsewhere if making or taking a call.
But now that practically everyone has cellphones, the heck with decorum.
What changed?
I'd say the need to stay connected has become so overwhelming that most people have stopped caring who might be listening.
When that phone rings, you have to answer it, wherever and whenever. Occasionally you'll say, "I'll call you back." More often it's, "Let me tell you about last night," complete with the gory details.
To be fair, a lot of would-be callers manage to convey their thoughts silently through the art of texting. The only problem with that, of course, is that quite a few texters tend to do so while doing things that require lots of concentration, like driving.
Again, if your buddy sends you a text, you feel obligated to respond ASAP. Pull over to the side of the road? You'll lose a few precious minutes.
That logic works fine until you've bashed into the back of a Buick.
OK, I'm guilty of texting while driving, too. And probably just about every other cellphone faux pas out there.
So I'll apologize to those who have been forced to inadvertently eavesdrop on my conversations, and I'll try to ignore the flotsam and jetsam of cellphone chat that floats my direction.
Meanwhile, I'll have to look up an old episode of "Superman" as a reminder of the good ol' days.
Online editor Harry Funk can be reached at hfunk@observer-reporter.com. Visit http://www.facebook.com/or.harryfunk.wednesday.
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