I went to a dinner party the other night and I saw someone do something I’d never seen anyone do before: Text at the dinner table.
I couldn’t believe it.
Here we were at a very nice dinner–linen table cloth, massive slab of beef, gorgeous wine, raucous laughter, but this guy decided to exercise the other option: sliding out his mobile midway through the second course and fiddling with the buttons. And then he was off, in the zone, not looking up while the conversation and wine flowed around him.
The host tried to nudge him back into the conversation a couple of times but he wasn’t interested. Turned out he’d gone from texting to checking out the football scores.
Then, on the other end of the table, someone’s cell phone went off. One of those clangy old style telephone rings that makes you jump. The woman it belonged to calmly answered and, as she held her red wine glass in one hand and leaned on the table with her elbows, had a conversation. My jaw nearly hit the silver salt cellar.
I thought, is this a generational thing? They were slightly younger than I but not that much. Maybe I am the most boring dinner conversationalist? Couldn’t tell ya. All I could think of was what would Miss Manners say?
photo by hrindspnks (flickr)