Here's what I see as the biggest problem with hands-free cellular phones:
I can no longer tell who the crazy people are.
It used to be that if you were walking down the street and someone was alone and swearing, singing, muttering, or arguing with themselves, you just knew that they were crazy. Or at least mildly disturbed.
But here's the thing... I was walking down the street today and I saw a woman coming toward me - short and stocky, ratty hair, kind of a baggy dress - and as I walked by I heard her say, "narcissistic tarts and whores." That, to me, is a crazy person. But when I glanced back at her, I saw that she had on a pair of headphones, or at least some sort of ear thing, and then I thought, "hmm, maybe NOT crazy, just having a really interesting chat."
Just in case she was crazy, I chose not to follow her. seemed safest.
But the thing is, anybody could be on a cell phone, you know. You can't see the phones at all sometimes, so you see people in the grocery store who appear to be having a conversation with applesauce, but are apparently on the phone chatting with friends.
There needs to be some sort of new crazy-person monitoring system. Crazy folks ought to have to wear a red C on their chest... or maybe it would just be easier to make the hands-free phone thingies really brightly colored, so passersby could see that the talker wasn't crazy.
That being said, I don't own a hands-free device, and I don't think I'm crazy, but I do tend to mutter to myself often as I walk the streets of Boston. I'm not sure what that says about me exactly, but, um, maybe as far as the big letter C goes, it might be to just leave well enough alone, eh?
Heh. Found this post through a link at Boston Common, and it really struck a chord. I have had the same thought a hundred times but have never said it out loud. You put it beautifully!
It really does freak me out when people walk down the street talking to themselves. You are SO right that we all used to be able to immediately conclude that the self-talker was a mentally ill person. You'd step lightly and shake your head, thinking "there but for the grace of Prozac go I." (Well, that's what *I* used to do.)
Nowadays, it's not so simple. If you look closely at the self-mutterer, you just might find that she is talking into her cleavage, or that he seems to be whispering intently into his turtleneck. And then, suddenly, you see a black coated cord hanging down from under his long straggly hair or her cute little fleece hat. Is it a Walkman type headphone wire, you wonder? Hmmm. Maybe so, but then how do you explain the Greek olive-sized solid plastic piece that hangs on the cord, almost hidden, alongside the lower neck area? Ah, you think, it's not a crazy person after all; it's just a rude, loud one who doesn't realize s/he looks like a complete and total idiot talking to him-/herself while stumbling down Comm. Ave.
The whole hands-free dealie-deal seems so, well, handy, and on some level it's kind of tempting to get one. But I'll stick with my handheld until they come up with something better, like a pop-star headset that would make me look more like Janet Jackson, or maybe exactly like a Banana Republic employee channeling the Secret Service :-)
On this note, have you seen the new Southwest Airlines commercial with the man and woman sitting in a conference room and the guy says, "I love you..." and the woman responds, only to find out he's talking on a hands-free phone... classic!
ever since the dark ages the "crazy people" have been outcasted and even forced to wear identifiers (like the "C") to disaasociate them from all the "normal people"...
maybe we just need to all put down the cell phones and communicate in person, like we used to do "in the old days"
See, I talk on my headset all the time, and while I feel like an ass, I figure either way, you look like an ass if you're on the phone in the grocery store. I think we're just teetering on the edge of accepting it as the norm.
hey man i talk to myself like always so dont make fun of ppl like me man
You want me to wear a letter "C.?" Geez, remind me not to take any train tickets from you, Joy.