Is It Just Me?: Or is it Nuts Out There? Page 8

  WTF?!

  Even out of the car, cell phones are still a nuisance. But if you are a rude cell phone user, do you even know it? No, there you are, out in public with us folks just trying to go about our day, and you don’t think to turn the thing off. OK, maybe you forget. Or maybe you don’t care. But it goes off, and, instead of getting up and stepping out of the restaurant, or just turning it off, or seeing who it is and saying, “I’ll call you back,” you sit there and have a conversation, which I don’t need to hear! I don’t want to hear, really.

  I don’t want to hear it when you’re going down the street, I don’t want to hear it when you’re in the elevator, I don’t want to hear it when you’re in a restaurant. Keep. That. To. Your. Self.

  But you don’t. Why? Because, like most people . . . when they get on their cell phones . . . they shout, like suddenly they’re deaf and have no concept that they’re sitting around other people. It doesn’t matter to them. Because they have to talk on the phone.

  “NO, THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE NEW DRAPES. WANNA HEAR?” No. As a matter of fact, I don’t. But let me ask . . . Since when did my rights get usurped by your need to talk to your decorator? . . . In my face?

  And here’s the irony. If you challenge these boneheads, they’ll turn to you and say, “Hey this is a private conversation, buddy.”

  “Well, actually, no. I can tell you what you said, I can tell you what you did, and, by the bye, I don’t think you should make that move with those window treatments.” Even if you are trying not to listen, you don’t have a choice.

  Oh, and how about this one? Sometimes cell phone rudies treat you to music! Wonderful! What a boon to us music lovers to sit there and listen to someone audition their ring tones, trying to decide which one to use. “Hm, is my girlfriend a Katy Perry or more of a Rihanna? . . . Or maybe the Jaws theme?” And they don’t even know they’re doing it. People act like there’s an actual Cone of Silence that comes down over them. I’m here to tell you, no Cone, kids. I can actually hear you. I can see what you’re doing, I hear everything you’re saying.

  So what can you do?

  Well . . . you can hope people read this book that you’re reading. There’s an idea. Give them a copy of the book. And then go buy another one for yourself. Or call the bookstore and order one.

  Just don’t do it on your cell phone when you’re in a restaurant sitting next to me.

  Chapter 30

  A Civil Person’s Handy List: Places Not to Use a Cell Phone

  Unless you are a doctor, turn the cell phone off or don’t use it when you are:

  • In the movies

  • At a play

  • In a restaurant

  • On a train. Move to the vestibule.

  • Driving, unless hands-free. And even then . . .

  • In church

  • At parents’ night in your kid’s classroom

  • In the elevator

  • In a meeting at work

  • During a family dinner

  • At the cash register while someone waits on you

  • In line. Any line. Nobody wants to hear it.

  • On a hotel or apartment balcony

  • During sex. Unless it’s phone sex.

  Chapter 31

  Thank You for Not Texting

  I don’t have an answering machine. I’m not there? Call me back. I turn my phone off after a certain time for a simple reason. I want that time to myself.

  I see so many people with their BlackBerrys, and they can be reached 24/7.

  Not for me.

  Is it for you? Hm . . . say . . . you’re not addicted or anything, are you? Good.

  Just to be sure, let me ask you a couple of questions: Do you take your BlackBerry into the bathroom? Do you reach for it first thing when you wake up? Can you put it down? Have you forgotten how to have conversations over dinner without your BlackBerry? Do you reach for it the moment it pings? You do? Huh . . . Have you wondered what is going on in your life that you can’t leave that message to sit there without having to respond instantly? Isn’t that kinda like . . . an addiction??

  Seriously. Do you really want to be reached in the shower? In the bathroom? Every second that you’re awake, do you want someone to be able to put their hands on you? Where is your time alone? Do you get any? Most people that have BlackBerrys do not. They don’t have alone time. They don’t know how to do it anymore. They can’t resist the textation.

  Try this. Take the time to leave the BlackBerry outside of the bathroom door when you’re home. And see what happens.

  Put it down. Leave it upstairs. Leave it somewhere and see how you do. See if you can do without being connected twenty-four hours a day—if you’re not a doctor.

  Just try turning it off for one evening. And then turn it back on the next morning . . . and guess what? You didn’t really miss anything . . . except someone’s annoyed at you because they wanted you when they wanted you. Well, it’s not about them. It’s about you. And reclaiming your life by being a person that says, “Here are my work hours . . . This is when I can be reached.”

  People don’t really have an actual vacation now because they have their BlackBerrys with them 24/7. Now, before The Digital Rage, people would go away for two weeks and wouldn’t check in at the office. Now some folks say, “Well, I can do both and stay away longer,” but, come on, most people can’t. You not only don’t stay away longer, you can’t really call it time off . . . can you? Try this next time you take your kids on vacation—and you should take your kids on vacation. Don’t check your BlackBerry every five minutes. Otherwise, you might as well be home.

  It’s hard. They call it a crackberry for a reason. And guess what? If you are a crackberry addict and want to kick the habit, you have to do it yourself. And a good place to start is by telling people that’s what you’re doing. Don’t worry, you don’t have to stand up in front of a room and say, “My name is so-and-so, and I am a crackberry addict,” or anything like that . . . although, I bet that’s coming. What you do have to do is set boundaries with people. You’ve got to say to them, “Between these hours, I’m not taking calls except from my kids. Unless it’s an emergency, I don’t need to be this connected.”

  I think this is one of those generation things. You know, another place where age clashes with youth. Because when you are of a certain age you can say, “You know what? I’m turning all this off, I’ve had enough for one day,” and you do. But young people live on a twenty-four-hour cycle. They don’t know about respites.

  Also, people have to realize that when they set an example of spending their lives on call . . . having their BlackBerry out of their pocket, checking it all the time . . . they can’t be shocked when they take the family to dinner—and everybody’s got their BlackBerry out! It’s the family meal, and every one of them has their heads bowed. And, as much as it looks touching . . . like a Norman Rockwell painting of a family saying grace . . . they aren’t. They’re all looking under the table, texting!!

  My grandkids do it all the time. Because they don’t know what it’s like not to be able to reach somebody for one full hour. Or, maybe, ten minutes.

  Once upon a time, we lived in an era where you had to wait to get home to get on the phone and tell somebody something. Or you had to have enough change in your pocket. When did 9 to 5 suddenly turn into 24/7? Would you have thought to call someone at the restaurant where they were eating? Or at the dentist? That’s the next step. Dentists are going to have to work around patients reclining in the chair holding their BlackBerrys up over their heads, tapping away on their little keyboards.

  “OMG, I am so slobbering right now.”

  Would you have thought to call someone at the . . . casino table? No. When you got back to your room, you saw that you had messages. And you responded when you were ready. But now, how long can you be away from it? Not long, otherwise, it’s like, “Where the hell were you?”

  Personally, I think it could be healthy to
let people know it’s none of their business. Tell them they don’t need to know everything you’re doing every second of your life. Say you were sitting in the park. “Why couldn’t I reach you?” “Because I didn’t pick up my phone! Because I didn’t want to be bothered at that moment.” “But I needed to talk to you.” “OK, what is it? Huh? What did you want to talk to me about?” “I just wanted to know if you were going to this thing.” “And you couldn’t wait to find that out? No one died, no one got into an accident? You just wanted information—when you wanted it.”

  We’ve become a society that wants instant response. So we cannot be thoughtful. We cannot think about what our response is going to be because—ping! People are waiting for us to respond to them immediately.

  I think one of the reasons people are freaking out so much these days is because the pressure that they would have had to deal with before they got connected has now quadrupled. They call it “wired” for a reason, you know? Because now, it’s like, BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ, I’m calling you. Or, PING-PING-PING, I’m BlackBerrying you. OK, so, I’ve looked at your message, and, know something? To me . . . I don’t need to answer you immediately.

  But they want an answer immediately.

  Because that’s what they need. Now. How do we work it out? I freak myself out by staying on those things. So, yeah, busted . . . true confession time . . . Recently I’ve been dealing with it too. Every time it buzzes, I’m all, “Who wants me? Who’s talking to me?” There’s something inherently wrong with that. Because you lose so much of your personal time and freedom that it’s scary.

  Don’t get me wrong, there are great reasons to be connected. If you’re in a car and something’s gone wrong, you got a flat tire, or you’ve got to call the police, or whatever. You’ve got to get hold of your mom . . . that’s all great. But this idea that you cannot have a moment’s peace without being constantly found is insane to me.

  You were just checking your BlackBerry, weren’t you?

  What the hell!

  Chapter 32

  Self-Test: Resisting Textation

  How often do you check for incoming texts and emails?

  If several times a day, score 0

  If hourly, score 1

  If every ten minutes, score 5

  If you monitor constantly, score 10

  Has your spouse or your child ever asked you to put your handheld device aside for once?

  If no, score 0

  If yes, score 5

  Has anyone ever taken your handheld out of your hands to get your full attention?

  If no, score 0

  If yes, score 5

  Did you ignore it and pay attention to them?

  If yes, score 1

  If no, score 2

  Do you sneak texting in meetings at work or at social events or dinner?

  If no, score 0

  If yes, score 5

  Have you ever gone one night without emails or texts?

  If yes, score 0

  If no, score 5

  If you are alone reading a good book and you hear your incoming email or text sound across the room, what do you do?

  If you finish your chapter and then check, score 0

  If you cross immediately to see what it is, score 5

  Total score: ______

  Tally your score and write it in on the Master Score Sheet at the back of this book, Page 195.

  Chapter 33

  A Flea on the Ass of a Mosquito

  Have you been to a sporting event recently at a stadium or arena? Is it just me, or has the language in the stands gotten ruder and cruder?

  First of all, anyone calling out obscenities at a sporting event is really not acting smart. Especially if you are someone who has children along. A lot of people . . . people with their kids right there at the game with them . . . yell out really rude stuff. And then they’re shocked when their kids do the same thing. And other people have their kids there too. It makes no sense to me.

  Unless you are me—up on a stage—nobody wants to hear somebody cussing up a storm about whatever’s bugging them. And the difference is this . . . when someone hears me do it, they knew that was part of the show when they bought the ticket. I’m a performer, not some heckler from the bleachers popping off a mouthful of ugliness in front of children. And you know you’re going to find children at sporting events—unless it’s your penitentiary softball game . . . in which case, have at it!

  Imagine if we all lost our minds for a day and just started heckling each other the way that we heckle sports folks. If you’re at work and you’re at your computer, and you have some guy yelling at you from across the room, “You suck!”, you couldn’t put together a PowerPoint presentation to save your life. Or “What did your mother do to you that you don’t know how to revise these sales figures?” That behavior wouldn’t last one day. Neither would the person yelling it.

  I mean, what is the point of heckling somebody who’s playing a sport? If you are a true fan, you are there to support the team, cheer them on, see some action, and enjoy the event. But hecklers seem to think they are the real fans because they see themselves as part of the action.

  Excuse me?

  If you see yourself as one of this special breed of superfan, let me see if I understand properly. You believe you’re part of the action because you sit there with a hot dog in one hand and a beer in the other screaming, “You suck!” Or “Your wife is . . . whatever.” Uh-huh . . . I see . . . Now, is there a spring training camp for that particular talent? Do they bring you along on the team plane for away games? No? Strange . . .

  What do you gain from that trash talk? Nothing. And you might be buying yourself some trouble. Pros tune it out. OK, there was that time Ron Artest went into the stands, but that doesn’t happen often. Are you willing to test that?

  It amazes me that people are always surprised when they have driven someone to a breaking point. If you are a trash talker, have you thought this through? Not every player’s gonna go, “Oh, OK. That’s cool, you’re just heckling me.” Some guys aren’t going to take it well. And some just might come up into the stands and get in your face. And then what are you going to do? Because you can’t beat them. You have no place to run. And even if you did . . . are you going to outrun a pro athlete?

  Good luck, superfan.

  It never used to be like this. All right, maybe when I was a kid, you’d hear, “Get outta there, ya bum!” Maybe you’d hear that. But you wouldn’t hear, “Hey, you frickin’ idiot, your mother is a blah-blah-blah.” People didn’t do that. And they didn’t do it because it wasn’t right.

  At the bottom line of it all, you’re there to watch the game. And if you don’t want to see the game, then why did you go? Other people might actually want to see it, and it’s not OK that you go and mess up their evening with their child. An evening when they shelled out good money for the seats, the parking, the food, everything. It’s not cheap.

  Here’s the thing. My answer to it . . . Want to be an ass? Stay home! Be an ass inside your house. Yell and scream at the TV all you want. Don’t go screwing up somebody else’s good time because, A, you’ve had too much to drink, or B, you don’t know how to act in public.

  Fan ugliness is everywhere. When the Yankees were playing the Phillies in the World Series, the New York papers had the nastiest pictures and headlines right on the cover. Real taunting, you know, just sort of stepping on their manhood. What is that?

  Those players were visiting in New York with their families. Why should they have to look at pictures of themselves in skirts? Or the picture they Photoshopped of Pedro in the baby diaper.

  It seems wrong to me. Just wrong.

  And when a newspaper does that, it sort of validates it for the punks who go to the game to heckle Derek Jeter, thinking he’s going to hear every word they say. Heckle Jeter? Let me hip you to this, dear heckler:

  You are a flea on the ass of a mosquito on Derek Jeter’s jersey. That’s what you are.

  Chapt
er 34

  Play Nice or Stay Home

  Rude fans at sports stadiums don’t stop at heckling. Hell, no. Why should they be satisfied merely yelling trash about a player’s mother’s STDs (yikes!), when they can step it up to an arrest for disorderly conduct?

  These people are jackasses. Plain and simple But come on . . . we both know it’s more than that. I’m going out on a limb here. I’m going to say that I believe these . . . offensive individuals . . . may have some special help. And I think it’s alcohol.

  What?? Get outta town . . .

  These losers are somewhere on the scale between “Buzzed” and “Hammered Off Their Asses.” And here’s the thing . . . If you can’t hold your alcohol, you should not be at the game. Drinking. That’s it right there. You should not be at the game drinking if you cannot hold your liquor.

  For the longest time until it was finally stopped, the old Giants Stadium in the Meadowlands had a weekly gathering of about five hundred drunks near the infamous Gate D, harassing women every Sunday football game. It was a total mob mentality. And people would wonder, how did five hundred people get away with that for so long?

  I know why. It’s exactly because there were five hundred of them. Call it vulgarity in numbers. Because if no one gets reported, or nobody gets in trouble, a guy figures, “Well, if I’m with them, I can’t get in trouble either. They can’t find me in five hundred other people.” And when you include alcohol in that, man . . . Alcohol tends to make people believe that it’s OK for them to do or say anything.

  Duh.