Just some Punq

There has been quite a bit of attention given to technology as a divisive force in our lives; much ado about people checking email or talking on a mobile phone at generally inappropriate times (such as at dinner with a companion). Some of this is quite reasonable criticism — our culture hasn’t entirely adapted well-established etiquette to newer technology, and some people do in fact use their gadgets as an excuse for what would otherwise be unconscionable behavior.

And yet, it seems that a certain class of people fall prey to extending this observation in a way that demonizes the technology itself. An oft-repeated message whose original author I can’t reliably find calls attention to this:

How come the guy reading a book at a park bench doesn’t come under the same scrutiny as the guy checking his email at the park bench?

Chris Bowler writes in response:

The guy reading the book, even if in a public space, is usually there for that very reason. He wants to read a book and has chosen an attractive, comfortable place to do so. He’s made the decision to give his attention to this activity and is following through on it.

The guy checking his email comes under scrutiny because most likely he’s come to the park for some other reason. But rather than devote his attention to that reason, he’s fragmenting his attention and checking his email (Twitter, RSS, Facebook etc.) while also giving his attention to the primary reason for being there. He is in fact doing performing both activities less well than he would if focused on one at a time.

What’s interesting to me is the assumption carried here; that the piece of technology one holds in one’s hands — in this case, something like an iPhone instead of a printed and bound volume of words — must imply intent.

I’ve been in both situations described by the subject comment. That is, I’ve been engrossed in a book while on a park bench next to someone checking their e-mail; and I’ve been the guy with my iPhone out checking e-mail next to someone who is reading a book. In both cases, the entire purpose of my going to the park was to be in a pleasant place while I absorbed information. That is, when I bring my iPhone to the park and check e-mail, it’s because I need to check my e-mail, and the park is a far more pleasant venue than my office.

But whenever I bring my iPhone to the park, I run the very real risk that someone will glower at me, or perhaps even confront me with “get your head out of your phone!” Is it because they think I’m in the park for some other reason, and I’m letting the world go by? I don’t think so.

What makes more sense to me is that clearly doing something most people consider “work” violates many people’s sense of propriety because work is something you’re supposed to do at work. Until recently, the people who did work while not in their place of work — aside from those whose work requires them to work in various places — were people who obsessed about their work to the point that it subsumed all other aspects of their lives. When someone sees someone in a places that’s for recreation, it seems somehow wrong that they’re doing work there.

Which leads to what is, in my mind, a better question: how is my choice to work from a park bench worse than a college student’s choice to study out on a blanket in the grass?