Viewpoints
Phones bring out the worst in us
Phil Riddle, Democrat Editor
Phil Riddle
editor@weatherforddemocrat.com
Maybe it’s just me, but doesn’t it seem with every advancement in technology, people seem to find new, inventive ways to be thoughtlessly rude?
I believe it started with call waiting and caller ID, which, in my opinion, are just ways for people to quickly scan their options.
“Uh, hello. Hi Tiffany, this is Dylan ... from biology class. I was calling to see if you would like to ... Sure, I can hold on a minute.”
See. It’s just rude. We all know Tiffany’s not going out with Dylan.
And cell phones seem to bring out the worst in us.
Now, no matter what we’re doing, someone can ring in.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this Mrs. Jones, but I’m afraid you have an extremely rare disease and treatment must begin ... ”
“Oh, can this wait a minute. I have to get this. Hello.”
We’ve all been in the grocery check-out line behind the woman who tells embarrassing details about her own life while in a detailed cell phone conversation.
“Well, I had that flu last week and I’ll tell you, I threw up my toenails. Not only that, every time I took a bite I had to ... ”
I did not need to know that.
And cell phones are probably one of the most common causes of auto accidents. Any trip of more than a few blocks will take you past a driver who is busily scanning his list of phone numbers, trying to hold the phone to his ear by scrunching his shoulder upward, or, shudders, texting on-the-go. The drivers in each of these scenarios is paying rapt attention to the two-inch screen on their personal communication device, while the two-ton vehicle they are controlling careens pell-mell down the road.
But, the newest, perhaps most irritating development of the cell phone era is a condition known as iPhone molasses syndrome. IMS. (I’m hoping the name catches on.)
It can strike suddenly and ringtones are apparently the triggers.
I observed a case of IMS just last weekend. I was behind a man in a shopping mall. He was walking at a brisk pace, leading a gaggle of like-minded shoppers past the food court, slipping through the maze of kiosks like an experienced guide, apparently eager to get to his destination.
Then it happened.
His phone rang.
And the second it was raised to his ear, his steps slowed to a thickened crawl, and he began weaving from side-to-side, talking in a slow-motion bass voice.
“HELLLLOOOO.”
His shortened, erratic steps forced all of us behind him to bump into each other as pedestrian traffic slowed almost to a stop while the man accepted a shopping order from whomever had placed the call.
It was terrible. One man in our group slowed so quickly he wound up doing a survey on the tastiness of Lunchables. A lady in our loose-knit bunch wound up getting almost beaten to death by a small oriental man when she stepped too near a massage chair in an attempt to avoid a collision with a guy munching on a corn dog.
Apparently victims of IMS are unable to process environmental information while staring blankly into space with phones glued to the side of their heads. Everything in their world slows to the speed of molasses in winter. (Hence the catchy name.) Everyone else must slow down or go around.
The good news is the inherent human rudeness is not the fault of the technology. It’s the morons using it.
Or, maybe it’s just me.
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