We hear many voices when we’re in public. But the logic between which ones we engage, ignore, or get frustrated by isn’t always apparent, even to ourselves.
One of the most perplexing examples is the cell phone conversation. To wit: if we’re sitting in front of two people on a bus, and they’re talking in a reasonable tone of voice, it’s very unlikely we’ll care at all. But if it’s only one person, and he’s talking at the same hypothetical volume on the phone, we might think bad thoughts about him, or have trouble concentrating. Why are we bothered by the latter and not the former?
We develop and adjust auditory filters throughout our lives. Our annoyance with overhearing cell phone chatter suggests that we’ve become accustomed to telephone conversations – however innocuous – being private. And so the sound of them in public space registers as a breach of etiquette, even if it’s no different in pitch, volume, or timbre than an old-fashioned, in-person conversation. This may change over time, perhaps after we’ve spent years and years confronted with the practice. For now, the memory of landline custom still obtains.
The following recording is a good example of this phenomenon, starring one of those much-despised Motorola walkie-talkies. As the F train went above ground during a snowstorm that had severely delayed train traffic, a man got a page (presaged by the famous tone) from a friend, and commenced telling him where he was, how long he expected to be there, and so on. There was a whole lot of eye-rolling on the busy car. The tones kept coming, and the voice of the man on the other end came through covered by a harsh, almost mean-sounding distortion. This mixed with the sound of train announcements which, as you might expect, were filtered into the normal bin.
I love this blog, excellent commentary!
Thanks, Toby
This is interesting. I think I has something to do with the disconnect between physical and mental presence. Whatever space we're in, we expect those around us to be as mentally present as the rest of us. When they're not, there's something off-putting about it.
For instance, if someone bumps into me on the sidewalk because they're staring at the top of a building or whatever, I'm OK with it – they're preoccupied with something within our shared space. When it happens because they're on a phone, though, it's annoying. I'm not exactly sure why this is. Something for me to think about.
That's a keen observation, thanks for sharing. I think we all carry pretty strong expectations about what it means to responsibly present somewhere. This is at the root of debates about cell phone, smartphone, and iPod use on the street and in cars, for example.
Weird things definitely happen when fragments of the private realm float through public space.
my annoyance with overhearing cell conversations has nothing to do with tone or volume or public and private–in my experience, people have always shared TMI on public transpo–it is the fact that I can only hear one side of it. Cell talks are not qualitatively the same as an old-fashioned dialogue in this regard. It isn't just about thwarted voyeurism, either, for some reason I am able to tune out the patter of back and forth conversation in ways that I am unable to when the cell conversation proceeds by fits and starts. Perhaps my ear knows conversational cues so well that I hear the give and take of two speaker's voices as seamless and expected, and I don't have to actively listen for anything (unconsciously or not). For me, i think the silences of a cell convo are more disruptive than their actual sound.
TMI is key. I think it's often the case that the sharer, being functionally anonymous, cares much less about revealing private details than the listener, whose normative private space is violated.
The fact that you're troubled by silence also raises interesting questions. It's as if, absent audible response, you yourself are being petitioned to fill in the gaps – if only in your imagination. That is very distracting.
Thanks, JSA.