I dislike being made to feel alone in a crowded room. I’m guessing you know what I’m talking about. You find yourself in a place, surrounded by other people, none of whom acknowledge your presence or that of anybody else, except maybe the people with whom they arrived. The ones who come in alone tend to quickly occupy themselves with a mobile device, a book, or the backs of their hands, anything to prevent them from giving some indication that there is anyone else in the room. Not everybody is this way and not every place, either. The traditional barbershops, for example, at least the ones I frequent, still seem capable of supporting a casual chatter among the occupants and the barbers. I enjoy that.
I recently read an interesting article in Fast Company magazine called “How smartphones wrecked bar drinking,” written by Clare Coffey. The author pretty much describes the same scenario I just gave you, taking place in an environment that at least used to be not unlike traditional barbershops in terms of being places where humans tend to interact, whether they know each other or not. She describes, “a row of barstools filled with people downing their beers and hunched over their hands, scrolling their feeds, never taking an eye off their screens.” But it’s not just happening in bars. One can witness this behavior firsthand almost anywhere. Just take a moment and look up from your phone; you’ll see it.
Now mind you, over the past decade or so, I have evolved into one of these people I have been describing, i.e. eyes down and nose to phone whenever I was among people I didn’t know. Hell, I even did it at home, surrounded by people I do know. I acknowledge having developed this behavior expressly because I am not terribly proud of it. The more I learned about the negative effects of this behavior, the more I desired to turn it around.
So I recently began an experiment, even before having read the Fast Company article, while out and about in public places. I began to engage people, sometimes verbally and other times with a friendly smile, nod, or wave. I just wanted to see if there were other people out there who, like me, longed for human contact. For me, this engaging activity was nothing new. In fact, it’s something rather old. I watched my parents and grandparents do it all the time when I was a kid. It was common courtesy back then to greet people whom you passed while walking down the street, entering a place of business, etc. In fact, back in the 1960’s and ’70’s, a person would stand out by not doing so.
What did I learn? In short order, I discovered that a number of people, especially older adults and really young children, acted as though they had been waiting for someone to acknowledge their presence. My assumption is that the older folks missed the human engagement that was once commonplace and the little kids simply hadn’t yet learned to ignore people.
For example, there is a healthcare facility that my wife visits with some frequency. Like nearly every other healthcare facility I have visited, the waiting room tends to be populated but quiet. You guessed it, a roomful of people staring at their phones, doing paperwork, whatever, but not acknowledging one another. One time, just for grins, I verbally greeted the front desk staff as I walked through the doorway. They naturally lit up and acknowledged me back. I can’t be 100% certain, but I think a few people might have glanced away from their screens just long enough to notice the anomaly.
There is an older gentleman, even older than me, who brings his wife in and proceeds to work some sort of puzzles, perhaps crosswords, while he waits. He carries with him a raft of papers, a large clipboard, and one or more writing instruments. I found him interesting. The next time I saw the gentleman, I greeted him as he approached a corner chair, carrying his paraphernalia. He clearly wasn’t expecting that, but he looked up, smiled, and returned my greeting. When I left, bid him a good day and again, he returned the courtesy.
See how easy this is?
Right before the holidays, I was sitting in the same waiting room, only it was deserted. That’s right, even the front desk had been vacated for the day. My wife had already been taken in back and I was sitting in the waiting room, alone, reading a book. Another patron walked in and stood at the front desk, looking about for a staff member, but not looking at me or even in my direction. I waited for a moment, to see whether anyone would come out from the back area, and when nobody did so, I spoke aloud to the man, piercing the silence with my voice.
“Hi. There’s nobody working the front desk tonight, but I’m sure somebody will be out in a moment.”
Startled by the fact that someone in the waiting room was speaking to him, the gentleman turned toward me and nodded. At the same instant, perhaps having been summoned by my voice, a staff member came out from the back area and escorted the gentleman in. The story might have ended there, but it didn’t.
On our way out of the building, the same man walked up to my wife and me, smiling, and asked me a riddle. I no longer recall the question or the punchline, but it left my wife and I laughing out loud. The man smiled and asked another riddle. This time all three of us were chuckling and we wished one another a happy New Year as we parted ways. Thirty minutes earlier, that man didn’t even look at me. Now he was making a deliberate effort, in a different part of the building, to share a couple of jokes with me. I knew I was onto something.
As we begin another brand-new year, I have resolved to become more human again. I want to spend less time staring into the blue light abyss of my various screens and spend more time talking to people and listening to what they have to say. I know that some will withdraw in fear and suspicion, but others will respond favorably, maybe even gratefully. I want to do this because I already know that I will be better off for having done so. And maybe, just maybe, those I encounter will find themselves better off as well.
If nothing else, I may learn a new joke now and then. As always, thanks for hanging with me.
This Is MGD Time 