My eyes are up here

Why you should put down your phone before it’s too late.

I’m in the middle of a sentence when your phone dings and you are immediately engrossed in a picture of your cousin’s sandwich.

I ask you: can you take a bite of the sandwich? Is she able to tear off a corner and pass it through the screen? I’m sure Google has a lab dedicated to the problem. It’s probably a decent sandwich—maybe even a BLT—but, is it worth appearing completely inconsiderate during a face-to-face conversation? Or, rather, face-to-face-to-phone.

When my seventeen year old brother-in-law checks his texts while I’m trying to relate to him, I can find forgiveness. He’s a teenager. He’s only just begun to develop the kind of interpersonal skills expected of an adult. The texts are probably from girls—I can’t compete with that.

You, on the other hand, are a grown man. You have a job, a wife, children. You learned to interact socially before computers fit in our pockets, before our most mundane thoughts could be broadcast to the world, before our downturned faces were lit by the faint glow of progress.

Yet, here you are, staring at your phone. I stop talking to see how long before you notice the silence. You chuckle to yourself, unaware. Kitten photo? I should record this and make you watch. I have a phone in my pocket too, you know.

I wonder if your unhealthy preoccupation with your phone continues to grow unchecked, if your social awareness ‘IRL’ will atrophy. If you’ll notice your circle of legitimate friends dwindling as your online social networks expand and your tweets are retweeted by individuals with higher and higher Klout scores. I imagine your children starting an arms-race for your attention, acting out in greater and more spectacular ways while you counter with sharper outbursts and more pronounced irritation (they are interrupting your Important Online Activities), your sex life eroding, the ever-shifting mirage of potential future opportunities in your online networks overshadowing your current position, leading to a deprioritization of your work and dissatisfaction from your managers.

That’s probably when you’ll call me up, looking for sympathy. Regaling me with tales of woe. I’ll listen, because I’m a nice guy, but in my head I’ll be thinking I’ve heard this all before.

After all, I already follow you on Twitter.