I’m placing this squarely in the “just a thought, and I could be mistaken” category, but here it is:
One morning after dropping my child at school, I jogged back toward the car, reached into my pocket for keys, and pulled out a scrap of paper instead. Still moving, trying to identify the paper, I walked directly into a large, wet tree branch—one of those massive limbs that somehow remains invisible. Then I got tangled in it for what felt like an eternity, reminiscent of a scene from The Chronicles of Narnia. Eventually I broke free and continued walking, still examining the paper. It turned out to be an old receipt—nothing important—but at that moment, I needed to salvage some pride. “At least I wasn't staring at my phone,” I told myself. As things stood, I was merely a woman who got caught in a branch—embarrassing, but harmless. Had I been absorbed in my phone and ended up tangled, that would have been a far greater humiliation. That kind of incident becomes GIF material—perfect content for blog posts and articles lamenting the loss of human connection due to smartphones. But the paper preserved my dignity—at least in my own mind.
It’s similar at the playground. While pushing my child on the swing, I often glance at a bench and wonder if I can steal ten minutes on my phone while he plays. I imagine it would feel different if I wanted to read a book. In any playground, some parents and caregivers actively engage with their children and avoid their phones entirely, while others use the free time to catch up online—though sometimes with a hint of guilt (or is that just me?). If I sat on a bench reading a book instead of scrolling on my phone, would I feel less guilty? I think I would. It presents a different image, conveys a different message.
Smartphone etiquette is a new challenge for everyone—we’re still navigating it. What is acceptable and what isn’t? Everyone on the bus with heads bowed over phones? Everyone in a restaurant glued to screens? Families around the dinner table? Employees in the workplace? Parents overseeing homework? Couples on a date? Partners lounging on the couch at night?
Perhaps the solution is to substitute paper and observe the outcome—instead of phones, imagine people in any given scenario are reading books or newspapers.
Consider the bus again—yes, people have been reading books and newspapers on buses and trains for as long as those forms of transport have existed. Staring at phones is merely the modern equivalent of the same habit. For those worried about society’s future due to smartphones, I understand why seeing a bus full of people with heads down is discouraging. But when you replace phones with newspapers and books, you realize it’s nothing unprecedented and likely not a cause for alarm.
What about restaurants? That feels different, in my opinion. Five people sharing a meal in a restaurant, all reading books and only occasionally looking up to speak to one another—unless it’s that book café Ellen DeGeneres used to run on her TV show—seems odd. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, and perhaps things will change when my kids are teenagers and I’m just happy they’ll go anywhere in public with me, but I believe restaurants are for eating and conversing. The same goes for the dinner table.
At work, picking up a phone is quite similar to picking up a newspaper—if you’re a mid-level employee, you do it when the boss isn’t watching; if you’re more senior, you do it whenever you like without anyone questioning you. Hiding in the bathroom is optional in both cases.
Supervising homework—call me a hypocrite, but I’m fine with this one. If I swap my phone for a newspaper, my conscience isn’t particularly troubled by the idea of glancing at the paper occasionally while the kids work on their math. I’m available when they need me; I’m preparing dinner, and I’m checking in on what’s happening in the world—whether online or offline.
Couples on a date—this feels similar to the restaurant scenario. It would be unusual to see a couple on a date both reading books or newspapers, unless it’s a Sunday brunch. So if one person checks a phone or paper while the other is in the restroom, that seems acceptable, but beyond that, probably not.
Moving from the new young couple getting to know each other at a pub to the long-married couple at home on the couch after the kids are asleep (me and my husband). People often lament that we’re all on devices when we settle down at night now—we’re not just watching TV; we’re also on iPads and smartphones, more distracted and fragmented than ever. But if I imagine a book in this scene, it doesn’t change the picture. Speaking for myself, the arrival of the internet hasn’t drastically altered things in my household—for the “good” TV shows, we put down our devices and watch together, while during the “less good” shows, we’re online, chatting, or reading. Sometimes even actual books.
And there will always be moments when it’s necessary to pick up a phone regardless of the setting—a work email that can’t wait, or a call from your partner asking you to buy milk. But those are mostly times when phones function as phones—two-way interactive devices that enable communication. The etiquette question revolves more around other uses—reading Facebook, scrolling Twitter, doing whatever people do on Snapchat, and chatting on WhatsApp. The non-urgent stuff—the newspaper you can set aside because it will still be there later, or when you’re hiding in the bathroom.
