Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Edelstein likes his phone, but not yours


I’m not entirely sure what I used to do when I waited in a line.

There I’d be, at Target, buying the essentials — underwear, milk, baseball cards — and I’d just ... wait in line.

When it was time to move up in line, I’d take a step forward. I was probably drooling while this was going on.

But today? I don’t mind lines. I’ll sometimes find the longest line out there, at Target, or Wal-Mart, or anywhere. Give me your worst, Motor Vehicle Commission — I can handle it.

Why don’t I care about lines? Because while I may not be happy to see you, yes, as a matter of fact, that is the entire output of human knowledge in my pocket.

In short, when I’m on line, I’m online. From Facebook to Twitter to eBay to breaking news to whatever, I’m scrolling through the web while waiting to pay for my broccoli and Breathe Right strips.

So in this respect, I couldn’t be happier.

But, when you’re on your cell phone in line — and yeah, I’m talking to you — and therefore barely paying attention to when it’s your turn to move up in the queue, well, then I’m not so happy.

And if I ever pull into a gas station and have to wait .2 seconds longer than I would normally have to because the attendant is too busy playing Angry Birds, well, then this bird gets angry.

(Extending the bird metaphor, so hold on …)

What’s good for the goose is not, in fact, good for the gander. I cannot stand when I’m inconvenienced by someone’s cell phone use.

Hypocritical? Of course.

But at least I realize I’m as guilty of it as everyone else, and so I’m sure while I’m busy @messaging Steve Martin in hopes for a retweet, there’s someone behind me who is silently plotting my demise.

The obvious fix? We all just keep our phones in our pocket. Except for me. I need it.



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