It’s not unusual for me to wander into the kitchen after dinner, when Mr. Roy is putting away dishes (we have a system: one cooks, one cleans, then we swap) while talking about something inconsequential: “I can’t believe they were out of regular French fries in the frozen food section of Mega Mart. I had to settle for waffle fries and I just can’t stand how fluffy they are. If only I had gone to the grocery store yesterday! What do you even have with waffle fries to balance out their fluffiness?”
Only to finish what I thought was a dialogue and realize that his earbuds were in. It was, in fact, a monologue; and Mr. Roy was in all likelihood listening to a podcast about the Supreme Court, or the Civil War, or video games, or professional wrestling, or all of these in one.
He will look at me blankly, remove one small black object from his ear, and say, “What’d you say?”
You’d think I would have learned by now. I work part-time in a fitness center, where more often than not, people I encounter under the age of 45 are not actually present in the world as we know it, but are instead immersed dually in a soundtrack of their choosing and however many sets, reps or miles are needed to check off their fitness box for the day.
They are present, but not, and the only tell is to creepily look at their ears, which takes more than a cursory glance anymore.
We are in the area of subtle isolationism and I can’t figure out how I feel about it, because it’s easier now than ever to be immersed in your own world but look like you are present, and I am weighing the benefits and drawbacks of this.
Modern headphones trace their origin to the turn of the 19th century, when they were used by switchboard operators to accomplish the task of managing phone calls.
It wasn’t until the late 1950s when they found a niche as personal listening devices, thanks to jazz musician John Koss.
Ever since that time, they’ve looked basically the same: like earmuffs but not fuzzy or even cute; little devices that signal to the world that “I cannot hear what you’re saying to me, and if you attempt to approach me to have a conversation, I will have to go out of my way to hear you, and that is inconvenient.”
With the advent of consumer wireless earbuds approximately a decade ago, the obviousness of this state of being has become… well, exceedingly less. And I find myself, depending on the setting, walking around with the expectation that maybe I just shouldn’t talk to someone because chances are they won’t hear me.
I don’t love that, do you?
At least with earmuff-phones (here’s looking at you, Beats), you’re choosing to loudly announce your detachment from the world.
Earbuds are subtle; you’re giving the world the impression of your availability, but you are, in fact, anything but.
How do I personally solve this dilemma? Simple: one earbud.
It’s how I have rolled ever since I joined Club Wireless, and how I shall continue to roll, regardless of how ridiculous it might look or how much bass I might be missing in my left ear or how often my phone, consequently, asks me if I’m sure I want to keep listening at full volume (because that volume is, in fact, confined to a single ear).
The other morning, I was in the gym and a friend who works there and happens to know every single client approached me. I explained to her my single-earbud approach and asked her how she felt about it.
She responded, in her simple and direct manner, that she finds it annoying when people can’t hear or respond when she is speaking, and I couldn’t help but think that I’d be missing out on a friendship like this if I chose to be fully disconnected all the time.
Maybe I’m wrong.
As with anything, there’s a time and a place for being fully immersed in your own personal soundscape: when you’re killing it on the treadmill, or performing drudgeries such as putting away dishes, or need to blast Bach in your eardrums while you cram for a test.
But I hate to think we’ve chosen to cut ourselves off entirely, all the time. Which is why I am at present choosing to have at least one ear attentive to the world around me – I don’t want to miss those little side conversations and interactions that make my life better.
Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.
This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Are your earbuds cutting you off from the world? | Abbey’s Road
Reporting by Abbey Roy, Newark Advocate / Newark Advocate
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By Abbey Roy, Newark Advocate | USA TODAY Network
