Missed Connections
The Tiny Erosion Nobody's Talking About
I’m at the airport right now, but I am not writing this post about missing a flight connection. Instead, I want to talk about missed chances to connect with each other.
As I write this (on the Notes app on my phone) I am seated right now on a pretty darn small airplane. Two seats on each side of the row. About 20 rows total.
As I sat down I said good morning to the perfectly lovely-looking woman I’m seated with. She did not respond.
She did not respond because she had headphones on and was scrolling social media.
Now, obviously, who cares? I mean, it couldn’t matter less that one person missed a salutation from a stranger. But if you think about the tiny erosion of connection building up over time for each of the people in this situation, it looks like this:
Person A has their natural friendliness rebuffed. If this happens time and time again because so many people are wearing headphones, they might start to feel that the world is different from the one they grew up in. They might start to see younger generations as less kind or open.
Person B, meanwhile, is no villain. Person B simply did not hear the offer from Person A. But the world B lives in is a slightly less friendly one because they are unaware overtures of connection are being made. They also might subconsciously perceive a bit of disappointment or judgment from Person A (who had their overture rebuffed) so maybe they start to feel the world is colder than it is.
Now, a side note: I totally get it that some people don’t want to make contact with the person they’re seated next to on a plan in case that person turns out to be unpleasant in some way or another (remind me to tell you the story of the one time a woman was so talkative to me on a flight that I CRIED). But I just want to talk about headphones in general.
What I want to point out is the membrane of resistance that phones and addictive apps have wrapped around each and every one of us. That membrane is enough to discourage most people from saying hello.
I learned a tremendous amount teaching undergrads at DePaul this past spring. One of the biggest lessons I got was just from a moment that happened right before class started one day. The class started at 1 PM and it was 12:56 so students were filtering in. In my classroom, they weren’t allowed to have their phones, obviously, but they also weren’t allowed to use laptops. (I ran the class like it was 1993, and in fact on the first day of class, I handed everyone a really high-quality composition book. I’m going to link to it, but this is not an affiliate type situation.)
The students came in and sat down. A few of them had headphones on, a few of them did not, but they all were just sort of sitting there, not talking. I was busy at the front of the room, sorting my handouts and getting my attendance sheet organized etc, etc. There was such an uncomfortable silence in the room that I just looked up and said, “Everyone please turn to each other and talk about the weather! I’m not asking, I’m telling!” Before I could even finish the second sentence the room burst into life. The room was suddenly filled with laughter and exclamations.
This is when I had the realization about headphones. Because I had been bopping around campus saying hi to people and getting about a 50/50 response rate. Suddenly I realized what a (forgive the expression) cock-blocker those headphones are.
It takes confidence to greet someone. Just a spark of confidence, but still, some small amount. But it takes a lot more confidence — a lot more — to greet someone who is wearing headphones.
So lately when people my generation (Gen X) complain that younger generations are unfriendly or on their phones too much, I’ve been pointing this phenomenon out to them. I ask, How friendly would you be if almost everyone around you was wearing headphones all the time? I urge them to think about that membrane of resistance. It’s enough to discourage most people from saying hello.
I want you to know that Gen Z, when you give them just the tiniest bit of help, is absolutely as playful and chatty and interested and interesting as you were at that age. And if you are reading this article and are Gen Z, I say, Good morning, darling. I’m greeting you. I’m glad you’re here in my row.
Now, I will stop typing on my phone here on this flight from Albany to Detroit. The flight attendant is coming down the aisle and I’m going to ask for a Fresca, which is my very favorite soft drink. (Boom, you just learned something! That’s your reward for reading to the end.)
My career as a novelist taught me how to tell a story.
My addiction to mobile gaming taught me that apps are engineered to be impossible to put down.
My work as an adjunct at DePaul University taught me that everyone -- every generation -- wants to break free.
I write about all of it here, and I offer my solution, a program called the 5-Week Phone Fight, at fightyourphone.com.
Love it. Maybe when you board the plane the pilot should instruct everyone to talk about the weather to their neighbor. PS Omg about the woman who made you cry!