UNSocial Media

The epitome of non-communication

Editor’s Note: Prepare for a rant

My first Tampa girlfriend, who I will call Joan, and I share a monthly lunch together. We have done so for many years, through heartache, divorces, joyous occasions, Covid and hip surgeries. We always go to “our” place, Chili’s. There we are served by Daniel, our wait person par excellence. Daniel remembers our names, our favorite cocktails and our stories. 

This Friday lunch date was no different than any other. We were catching up on one another's

Women Talking by Itzchak Tarkay

lives and families. A table of three adults and one child were seated in the booth behind ours. I was able to clearly view the occupants, and, being a curious writer, I watch other diners. I noticed that on being seated all three adults immediately began staring at their phones, tapping fingers with blank facial expressions. The child, approximately three years old, was completely ignored by her mother who was enraptured by her phone. Whatever messages were behind that black screen, her daughter’s message was not coming through. The child was left to her own devices so began exploring on her own.

  She turned the booth into a jungle gym, and began climbing over the back of Joan’s booth, hanging there and staring into Joan’s face. She then began jumping up and down as high as she could leap. Her occasional jumps turned into a staccato, a constant bouncing rhythm. She then attempted to climb onto the window sill. She returned to jumping on the seat of her booth, as though it were a birthday bouncy house. Boink! Boink! Boink!  All the adults at the table continued to delve deeper into their social media communication, those little black screens in their hands..

Joan and I did our best to ignore the child.  We had just settled into the meat of our hearts, those deep conversations where all dear friends eventually travel, discussing ex-husbands, family, friends, problems and old confidences. Tears have been known to be shed. 

Joan leaned closer to me, the sign of a new confidence she wanted to share. “Did I ever tell you about the day my mother died?”

“No,” I said, “But I’d love to hear that story." Suddenly, Joan began to bounce. The little girl leaping behind Joan had begun bouncing so forcefully that Joan began to be launched from her seat. Joan, in between words and eyes that matched her remembered sorrow, was constantly interrupted. The little girl stared at me intently, holding on to the back of Joan’s booth, and jumping as high as possible before landing, hard. Thump Thump Thump. I couldn’t stand the circus routine any longer, and before I knew it, that dreaded word this three-year-old had probably never heard, escaped my lips.

“STOP!” Miraculously, the child stopped bouncing. Joan said, “thank you.” All adults at the table continued ignoring the child, eyes and fingers focused on the screens in their hands. The child yelled into her mother’s ear. Suddenly, the mom of the child paid attention to her daughter, and then all hell broke loose as the mom erupted.

Battle Ensues

She stood up in a fury, faced me, her daughter cowering next to her as her mother screamed, “DON’T YOU EVER TELL MY CHILD WHAT TO DO!” Until our faithful wait person, his trainee, the restaurant manager and his assistant arrived, it was a full-scaled, all out battle. The woman continued screaming at the top of her lungs. I replied, through gritted teeth and trying to remain calm, a few words about taking responsibility for her child’s behavior. I also felt was sorrow for this child who had to work so hard to be seen, heard and noticed by her mother. Our Knight in shining armor,

The Scream, by Edvard Munch

Daniel gently said, "Disengage, Jayne, disengage.”

I did. I sat and watched this hysterical display of spit fueled diatribe exploding in front of me. I have only seen such an unrestrained, screaming fit on crime shows. When you examine a person at this level of fury, it becomes interesting. I was reminded of art, The Scream by Munch and Guernica by Picasso.  The woman faced me, hysterical, phone still in hand. Everything stilled except the woman’s screams, “PUTA! PUTA! BITCH!” 

Joan gently and quietly said. “I speak Spanish. She’s calling you a whore, puta.”

“And a bitch,” I replied.

Four employees surrounded us. The manager of the restaurant, our waiter, his trainee and a security person. The mom was still screaming. She then aimed her phone at me, taking my photo. I smiled for the camera.  That’s when the staff escorted the table of three adults and one child out of the restaurant.

Daniel asked me to relate exactly what had happened, which Joan and I readily did. “She was on her phone the entire time,” I said. “I noticed that too.” Daniel agreed. I realized then that the entire restaurant staff must have been witnessing the antics of the unrestrained child behind us.  Daniel and the Chili’s manager asked if there was anything they could do, anything at all, to make up for the awful melee which had been thrust upon us. I knew they were asking if they could buy our lunch. Joan and I just wanted to depart. “Just the check, please.”

As we paid I confessed to patient and kind Daniel, “I’m a little nervous about leaving the restaurant. What if she’s still out there, waiting in the parking lot?” Our Knight replied, “No, they’re gone. I watched them from the front door and made sure they drove off.”

Fleeing troops

I have been unable to evict this image and event from my mind, which made me think more deeply about social media.  Around ten years ago Tim and I were amazed to see couples settle down at a table in a nice restaurant and immediately take out their phones. Tim and I always talk non-stop to one another, wherever we are. We had never before witnessed this disease of non-communication. I remember saying, “They must be very unhappy if they can’t even talk to one another.” Tim nodded sadly in agreement. Then, he smiled, and reached for my hand as we continued our chatter. When did this disease of ignoring your partner or friend turn into an epidemic?

I admit I also use social media to advertise our artists whom we exhibit at Pinellas Ale Works, to promote my books, and occasionally share a beautiful photo of the full moon, a special flower in my garden, or something that strikes me which I feel I must share. I also use my phone to share photos of my grandchildren, friends, or places I have visited.  I believe social media to be just that: social. Sharing thoughts, ideas, events, memories, sad and happy occasions. It is the act of communicating, not the act of ignoring the person sitting right in front of you as you communicate with someone or something on their little black screen.

I recently read an article by Kyung Hee Kim, "The Creativity Crisis," https://tinyurl.com/msskymba. Dr. Kim researched the Torrance Test for Creative Thinking, a measure of divergent thinking. "This test is the closest thing we have to an imagination test. The research was conducted with huge data sets of people all the way back to the 1950s." Dr. Kim's conclusion was that "imagination and IQ had risen together until the mid 90s at which point IQ kept rising and imagination began to decline." She attributed these results to three things: the decline of free, unstructured play, the rise of screens in our lives and the rise of testing in schools. Drawing on this research author Rob Hopkins also attributes spending less and less time in the natural world. Rob Hopkins builds on this in his book "From What Is to What If," Chelsea Green Press, https://tinyurl.com/spnuraya. He argues that the decline isn't just an education problem but a civilizational one. "If we can't vividly imagine futures different from the present, we can't build them."

I couldn't help but think of this neglected child, who had to turn a restaurant booth into a jungle gym as she had no one who would interact with her. She was doing everything to seek attention and to amuse herself. Sadly, she received the wrong kind of attention, and was removed from the restaurant along with her hysterical mother.

Dear readers and writers, I implore you: look into the eyes of your friends and loved ones instead of the screen on your phone. Talk and laugh, share stories, fears and joys. That is socializing. Not doing so is not caring what the person with you has in his or her mind that might be worth paying attention to. Don’t shut down a friend, a child, or anyone who you might share or learn from, due to your unsocial behavior. Don’t allow electronic, internet or wifi be only way you socialize. Talk, listen, laugh, cry together, share stories. You might learn something about your dining partner that than you never knew.

Enlightenment is a beautiful thing. The light doesn’t come from a screen. It comes from the shining eyes of the person sitting across from you.

Dining Pleasures