Public Space

Maybe this is just something that I missed in the 7 years that I spent on the West Coast, where you live in your car and don't really have as much contact with people in the population-dense trains, stations and streets... but, um, since when did the world decide there was no such thing as public space?

Yesterday on the train, as the commuters enjoy the peace and quiet that you find on the newer double-deckers.. and yup, it's a cell phone conversation that we all got to listen to, as the frankly bitchy manager-commuter expressed her disappointment as her subordinate called in sick. I'm pretty sure that I speak for all of the other people on the train when I fervently hoped that the person on the other end of the line was interviewing somewhere else, and reaming her manager. Actually, I'm pretty sure we were all rooting for in that job interview. Or for that person to not Mind The Gap while getting off the train later...

And then again in the evening, listening to a douchebag recount every single detail in his life and his commute and his financial transactions... well, in a few years when you read how a short bitter sports blogger went haywrire and left a string of corpses on the train, you'll know why. But I'm so glad that your house closing went well, Ferret Faced Princeton Junction Guy. And the entire 40 minute conversation was riveting, especially the five to ten lulls where you said, "Uhhh.... anything else..." That was magical.

(The obvious solution, of course, is just to whip out my own cell phone and have a loud and imaginary conversation where I talk about how I'm surrounded by jerks on the train, and that I'll have to call that person back, because I'm in a public space and don't want my fellow passengers to think I'm a complete asswipe... but in this as in many things, I don't have the stones.)

I'm not entirely unsympathetic to the plight of the person taking an urgent call. I've been that person, usually for consulting gigs. But, um, when that happens, you cup your hand over the receiver, you hunker down to block the sound, and you try to end the call, you know, quickly.

Or, even better yet, train your contacts to IM you, and text them back. Either is vastly preferable to treating the rest of us to your sad little life, of which We Don't Care. Since when did casual rudeness become acceptable, just because you've got technology and an inflated sense of your own self-importance?