The Lost Art of Paying Attention

With an overabundant choice of communication methods, it seems ironic that we are rapidly becoming incapable of the most common courtesy- paying attention.
Remember ‘paying attention’? It use to alert us that something important was about to be said- ‘If everyone could please pay attention, I have an announcement to make’. In the classroom, lack of it would elicit an outright threat- ‘Unless everyone starts paying attention, recess will be cancelled’. Paying attention use to be a very big deal, but lately not so much.
Driving to work, seatbelt strapped in with both hands on the wheel, I listen to a radio report about a study that found people who multi-task are not able to do anything very well, because it is not possible to pay full attention to several things at once. I wonder how I too can get paid to find out the obvious, as I slam on the brakes to avoid a car running a red light to take a left turn with no blinker. And apparently no hands, as they hold a phone to their ear while eating a breakfast sandwich. Instead of mastering the art of driving with their knees, perhaps they should master the art of paying attention.
Minutes later, another near miss when a pedestrian pops out from between two parked cars. Laughing, texting and wearing an ipod, he jaywalks without as much as a glance my way. Luckily for both of us, I was paying attention.
Enter the workplace, where texting during meetings has become an epidemic. In frustration, I channel my 2nd grade teacher and half jokingly ask my staff to let me see both hands on the table before the meeting starts to be sure they are free from electronic devices. As if on queue, someone’s cell phone starts buzzing in its holster. Yes it was funny, but in that frustrated ‘can’t win’ sort of way. And I realize I can no longer swim against the tide of technology that seems to have drowned out common courtesy.
But technology is just the latest in a long line of distractions. How many phone conversations have we suffered through that were interspersed with outbursts directed towards unseen children, pets or partners? And how many conversations have included comments on what was on TV at the time, accompanied by the sound of eating, or even the sound of someone ordering food at a drive up window mid conversation? And how many times a day do we utter "what was I just talking about" as a testimony to the rapid stream of events around us competing for our attention?
As usual, I am not immune to the subject of my own rant, and I understand the hypnotic allure of the "you have email" siren song that woos me in the midst of a budget meeting with my boss. He hears it too, and challenges me with direct eye contact to see if I glance away to peek at my computer screen. Ironically, this showdown is halted when his Blackberry rings, and he does not hesitate to take a technology time out to determine who is more important, the person sitting in front of him or the person texting for his attention. My answer lies in the silence broken only by the sound of tiny thumb typing as he texts back to the unknown interrupter.
Determined to have just one conversation that does not take place to the background music of computer typing, cell phone ringing, eating, cars honking or any other interruption, I return a lunch time phone call from a friend. Fully committed to the conversation, I close my office door and turn the volume down on my computer so I will not be distracted. As I launch into a recap of events over the past few weeks, I am aware of something I have not heard in a very long time – the silence of listening on the other end of the line. ‘Wow, she is really paying attention!’ I’m thinking, as the phone rings in my hand.
It’s my friend. "I’m sorry," she says "I must have hung up on you by accident. I was trying to hold the phone with my shoulder while I was doing the dishes. So what were you saying again…?"