I'm not going to talk about cell phone etiquette and I'm not going to rant about cell phone junkies in general. First because "etiquette" is one of those things people often convince themselves (probably wrongly) only applies in formal or business situations--not, say, in the line at the grocery store or in the back row of the movie theater and so on. And second because, living in the teeny town I live in, I've been relatively sheltered from the really rude cell phone junkies that seem to plague major metropolitan areas.
But I am going to talk about a cell phone crime so heinous that I may need therapy to recover from it.
I was browsing at the library this afternoon--a thing we know I dearly love to do. I only had ten minutes I could steal away from work and so I was sort of speed-browsing. In that ten minutes, three patrons received cell phone calls. All three of them answered their phones and carried on conversations right there in the library!
Now, our library strives to be a casual and comfortable sort of place, I think. None of the librarians are of the "shushing" persuasion. There are often quiet (and even not so quiet) conversations taking place in every corner. But c'mon! Taking a phone call?! In the library!? Nearly shouting to be heard over static, telling your husband or your sister or your mom--along with every other patron in the library--what's for dinner or where you are or what movie you're trying to check out?!
Masked Mom's One-Word Review: Uncivilized.
Autumn Action Plan
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