<p>You are at a party and the person in front of you is not really listening to you. Yes, she is murmuring occasional assent to your remarks, or nodding at appropriate junctures, but for the most part she is looking beyond you, scanning in search of something or someone more compelling.<br /><br />Here’s the funny part: If she is looking over your shoulder at a room full of potentially more interesting people, she is ill-mannered. If, however, she is not looking over your shoulder, but into a smartphone in her hand, she is not only well within modern social norms, but is also a wired, well-put-together person.<br /><br />Add one more achievement to the digital revolution: It has made it fashionable to be rude.<br /><br />I thought about that a lot at South by Southwest Interactive, the annual campfire of the digitally interested held in Austin, Texas, the second week of March; inside, conference rooms brimmed with wireless connect-ions, and the people on the dais competed with a screen in almost every seat: laptops, or even more commonly, tablets. In that context, the live presentation that the people in the audience had ostensibly come many miles to see was merely companion media.<br /><br />But even more remarkably, once the badge-decorated horde spilled into the halls or went to the hundreds of parties that mark the ritual, almost everyone walked or talked with one eye, or both, on a little screen. We were adjacent but essentially alone, texting and talking our way through what should have been a great chance to engage flesh-and-blood human beings. The wait in line for panels, badges or food became one more chance to check in digitally instead of an opportunity to meet someone you didn’t know.<br />I moderated a panel there called “I’m so productive, I never get anything done,” which was ostensibly about how answering e-mail and looking after various avatars on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr left little time to do what we actually care about or get paid for. The biggest reaction in the session by far came when Anthony De Rosa, a product manager and programmer at Reuters and a big presence on Twitter and Tumblr, said that mobile connectedness has eroded fundamental human courtesies.<br /><br />Time to give respect<br /><br />“When people are out and they’re among other people they need to just put everything down,” he said. “It’s fine when you’re at home or at work when you’re distracted by things, but we need to give that respect to each other back.”<br /><br />His words brought sudden and tumultuous applause. It was sort of a moment, given that we were sitting amid some of the most digitally devoted people in the hemisphere. <br /><br />Perhaps somewhere on the way to the merger of the online and offline world, we had all stepped across a line without knowing it.<br /><br />In an e-mail later, De Rosa wrote: “I’m fine with people stepping aside to check something, but when I’m standing in front of someone and in the middle of my conversation they whip out their phone, I’ll just stop talking to them and walk away. If they’re going to be rude, I’ll be rude right back.”<br /><br />After the panel, one of the younger people in the audience came up to me to talk earnestly about the importance of actual connection, which was nice, except he was casting sidelong glances at his iPhone while we talked. I’m not even sure he knew he was doing it. It’s not just conferences full of inforati where this happens. In places all over America (theaters, sports arenas, apartments), people gather in groups only to disperse into lone pursuits between themselves and their phones.<br /><br />If South by Southwest is, as its attendees claim, an indicator of what is to come, we won’t be seeing a lot of one another even if we happen to be in the same room. Anthony Breznican, a reporter for Entertainment Weekly, said all it takes is for one person at a dinner to excuse himself into his phone, and the race is on among everyone else. <br /><br />In the instance of screen etiquette, sharing is not always caring, and sometimes, the bigger the screen, the larger the faux pas: On an elevator in the Austin Convention Center, some crazed social media promoter jammed his iPad under my nose and started demo-ing his hideously complicated social networking app that was going to change the world. I leaped to safety as soon as the door opened.<br /><br />It scans as progress, but doesn’t always feel that way. There are a number of reasons why people at conferences and out in the world treat their phones like a Tamagotchi, the digital pet invented in Japan that died if it wasn’t constantly looked after and fed.<br /><br />Any minute, any day<br /><br />But all is not vanity. For anybody with children, a job or a significant other, the expectation these days is that certain special people, usually beginning with our bosses, can reach us at any minute of any day. Every once in a while something truly important tumbles into our in-box that requires immediate attention.<br /><br />Mobile devices do indeed make us more mobile, but that tether is also a leash, letting everyone know that they can get you at any second, most often to tell you they are late, but on their way. <br /><br />At the conference, I saw people who waited 90 minutes to get into a party with a very tough door, peering into their phones the whole while, only to breach the door finally and resume staring into the same screen and only occasionally glancing up.<br /><br />In that sense, the scenery never really changes when you are riding with your digital wingman. I saw people who were sitting on panels surfing or e-mailing during lulls, and then were taken by surprise when it was their turn to talk. (And it’s not just those children. I was hosting a discussion at another conference with Martha Stewart, no slouch when it comes to manners, and she kept us all waiting while she checked “one more thing” on her Twitter.)<br /><br />I should sheepishly mention I was on highest alert for electronic offence because I switched out my smartphone before South by Southwest and was on a new Droid that I’m pretty sure could guide the next mission to Mars, but it was clunky when it came to sending texts and Twitter messages. Digital natives (read “young people”) will tell you that they can easily toggle between online and offline. <br /><br />William Powers, the author of “Hamlet’s BlackBerry,” a book about getting control of your digital life, appeared on a panel at South by Southwest and wrote that he came away thinking he had witnessed “a gigantic competition to see who can be more absent from the people and conversations happening right around them. Everyone in Austin was gazing into their little devices — a bit desperately, too, as if their lives depended on not missing the next tweet.”<br /><br />And therein lies the real problem. When someone you are trying to talk to ends up getting busy on a phone, the most natural response is not to scold, but to emulate. It’s mutually assured distraction.<br /><br />Smartphone manners<br /><br /><em>Break these rules occasionally or chronically. As they say in recovery programs, it’s progress, not perfection.</em></p>.<p>A modest proposal for a digital détente: 10 rules to make sure smartphones don’t make us stupid.<br /><br />1. Go ahead, glance at your phone at an incoming text. And please excuse yourself to respond to one that will immediately advance your plot to take over the world. But do not type under my nose. It hurts my feelings.<br /><br />2. Phones should remain put-away during dinner and lunch with friends, but it should also be permissible to ask for and take a mutual “phone break” if the meal goes on for longer than an hour.<br /><br />3. Do not use “instant message” for something that is not instant. That’s what e-mail is for, so I can time-shift your request to when I can deal with it. And for mercy’s sake, never use IM if you are a slow typist.<br /><br />4. Staring at a smartphone in an elevator seems like a good deal for everyone. I mean, as opposed to what?<br /><br />5. Do not think that tweeting about having a drink with me validates my importance. Having a drink with me validates my importance. Memorialize it later or when I am in the restroom.<br /><br />6. Do not link all of your social media together. If I wanted to follow you on Foursquare, I would follow you on Foursquare. Finding out on Twitter that you are the mayor of the Boerum Hill IHOP doesn’t meet any current needs I have.<br /><br />7. Put that “reply all” button behind glass. Use only in case of emergency.<br /><br />8. Do not sign me up for a “really cool” social messaging group; I’m probably not cool enough for it. And even if I were, your list is likely full of people I try to avoid as a matter of course.<br /><br />9. Do not hold private, banal conversation in public places. Going back and forth on Twitter with someone is the equivalent of using your outside voice in church or on the train. We are not interested.<br /><br />10. Do not become a dynamo of self-promotion on social media as so many advise. If your Facebook page scans as an ego gymnasium, I probably stopped checking it years ago. Yes, social media is a great professional tool, but it is not supposed to serve as a hand-crank on your brilliant career. </p>
<p>You are at a party and the person in front of you is not really listening to you. Yes, she is murmuring occasional assent to your remarks, or nodding at appropriate junctures, but for the most part she is looking beyond you, scanning in search of something or someone more compelling.<br /><br />Here’s the funny part: If she is looking over your shoulder at a room full of potentially more interesting people, she is ill-mannered. If, however, she is not looking over your shoulder, but into a smartphone in her hand, she is not only well within modern social norms, but is also a wired, well-put-together person.<br /><br />Add one more achievement to the digital revolution: It has made it fashionable to be rude.<br /><br />I thought about that a lot at South by Southwest Interactive, the annual campfire of the digitally interested held in Austin, Texas, the second week of March; inside, conference rooms brimmed with wireless connect-ions, and the people on the dais competed with a screen in almost every seat: laptops, or even more commonly, tablets. In that context, the live presentation that the people in the audience had ostensibly come many miles to see was merely companion media.<br /><br />But even more remarkably, once the badge-decorated horde spilled into the halls or went to the hundreds of parties that mark the ritual, almost everyone walked or talked with one eye, or both, on a little screen. We were adjacent but essentially alone, texting and talking our way through what should have been a great chance to engage flesh-and-blood human beings. The wait in line for panels, badges or food became one more chance to check in digitally instead of an opportunity to meet someone you didn’t know.<br />I moderated a panel there called “I’m so productive, I never get anything done,” which was ostensibly about how answering e-mail and looking after various avatars on Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr left little time to do what we actually care about or get paid for. The biggest reaction in the session by far came when Anthony De Rosa, a product manager and programmer at Reuters and a big presence on Twitter and Tumblr, said that mobile connectedness has eroded fundamental human courtesies.<br /><br />Time to give respect<br /><br />“When people are out and they’re among other people they need to just put everything down,” he said. “It’s fine when you’re at home or at work when you’re distracted by things, but we need to give that respect to each other back.”<br /><br />His words brought sudden and tumultuous applause. It was sort of a moment, given that we were sitting amid some of the most digitally devoted people in the hemisphere. <br /><br />Perhaps somewhere on the way to the merger of the online and offline world, we had all stepped across a line without knowing it.<br /><br />In an e-mail later, De Rosa wrote: “I’m fine with people stepping aside to check something, but when I’m standing in front of someone and in the middle of my conversation they whip out their phone, I’ll just stop talking to them and walk away. If they’re going to be rude, I’ll be rude right back.”<br /><br />After the panel, one of the younger people in the audience came up to me to talk earnestly about the importance of actual connection, which was nice, except he was casting sidelong glances at his iPhone while we talked. I’m not even sure he knew he was doing it. It’s not just conferences full of inforati where this happens. In places all over America (theaters, sports arenas, apartments), people gather in groups only to disperse into lone pursuits between themselves and their phones.<br /><br />If South by Southwest is, as its attendees claim, an indicator of what is to come, we won’t be seeing a lot of one another even if we happen to be in the same room. Anthony Breznican, a reporter for Entertainment Weekly, said all it takes is for one person at a dinner to excuse himself into his phone, and the race is on among everyone else. <br /><br />In the instance of screen etiquette, sharing is not always caring, and sometimes, the bigger the screen, the larger the faux pas: On an elevator in the Austin Convention Center, some crazed social media promoter jammed his iPad under my nose and started demo-ing his hideously complicated social networking app that was going to change the world. I leaped to safety as soon as the door opened.<br /><br />It scans as progress, but doesn’t always feel that way. There are a number of reasons why people at conferences and out in the world treat their phones like a Tamagotchi, the digital pet invented in Japan that died if it wasn’t constantly looked after and fed.<br /><br />Any minute, any day<br /><br />But all is not vanity. For anybody with children, a job or a significant other, the expectation these days is that certain special people, usually beginning with our bosses, can reach us at any minute of any day. Every once in a while something truly important tumbles into our in-box that requires immediate attention.<br /><br />Mobile devices do indeed make us more mobile, but that tether is also a leash, letting everyone know that they can get you at any second, most often to tell you they are late, but on their way. <br /><br />At the conference, I saw people who waited 90 minutes to get into a party with a very tough door, peering into their phones the whole while, only to breach the door finally and resume staring into the same screen and only occasionally glancing up.<br /><br />In that sense, the scenery never really changes when you are riding with your digital wingman. I saw people who were sitting on panels surfing or e-mailing during lulls, and then were taken by surprise when it was their turn to talk. (And it’s not just those children. I was hosting a discussion at another conference with Martha Stewart, no slouch when it comes to manners, and she kept us all waiting while she checked “one more thing” on her Twitter.)<br /><br />I should sheepishly mention I was on highest alert for electronic offence because I switched out my smartphone before South by Southwest and was on a new Droid that I’m pretty sure could guide the next mission to Mars, but it was clunky when it came to sending texts and Twitter messages. Digital natives (read “young people”) will tell you that they can easily toggle between online and offline. <br /><br />William Powers, the author of “Hamlet’s BlackBerry,” a book about getting control of your digital life, appeared on a panel at South by Southwest and wrote that he came away thinking he had witnessed “a gigantic competition to see who can be more absent from the people and conversations happening right around them. Everyone in Austin was gazing into their little devices — a bit desperately, too, as if their lives depended on not missing the next tweet.”<br /><br />And therein lies the real problem. When someone you are trying to talk to ends up getting busy on a phone, the most natural response is not to scold, but to emulate. It’s mutually assured distraction.<br /><br />Smartphone manners<br /><br /><em>Break these rules occasionally or chronically. As they say in recovery programs, it’s progress, not perfection.</em></p>.<p>A modest proposal for a digital détente: 10 rules to make sure smartphones don’t make us stupid.<br /><br />1. Go ahead, glance at your phone at an incoming text. And please excuse yourself to respond to one that will immediately advance your plot to take over the world. But do not type under my nose. It hurts my feelings.<br /><br />2. Phones should remain put-away during dinner and lunch with friends, but it should also be permissible to ask for and take a mutual “phone break” if the meal goes on for longer than an hour.<br /><br />3. Do not use “instant message” for something that is not instant. That’s what e-mail is for, so I can time-shift your request to when I can deal with it. And for mercy’s sake, never use IM if you are a slow typist.<br /><br />4. Staring at a smartphone in an elevator seems like a good deal for everyone. I mean, as opposed to what?<br /><br />5. Do not think that tweeting about having a drink with me validates my importance. Having a drink with me validates my importance. Memorialize it later or when I am in the restroom.<br /><br />6. Do not link all of your social media together. If I wanted to follow you on Foursquare, I would follow you on Foursquare. Finding out on Twitter that you are the mayor of the Boerum Hill IHOP doesn’t meet any current needs I have.<br /><br />7. Put that “reply all” button behind glass. Use only in case of emergency.<br /><br />8. Do not sign me up for a “really cool” social messaging group; I’m probably not cool enough for it. And even if I were, your list is likely full of people I try to avoid as a matter of course.<br /><br />9. Do not hold private, banal conversation in public places. Going back and forth on Twitter with someone is the equivalent of using your outside voice in church or on the train. We are not interested.<br /><br />10. Do not become a dynamo of self-promotion on social media as so many advise. If your Facebook page scans as an ego gymnasium, I probably stopped checking it years ago. Yes, social media is a great professional tool, but it is not supposed to serve as a hand-crank on your brilliant career. </p>
