Apparently I have a stare that can turn its recipient into a pillar of salt. Or at least give them the heebie jeebies big time, according to a close girlfriend of mine who copped such a look the other night.
We like to turn our catch-ups into special occasions, and so I had dusted off a pair of heels, cleared some credit on my card and wangled a table at one of the city's finest restaurants. I waited for her dinner arrival with charged flute in hand.
However, as I saw my girlfriend walk towards me, my mood switched from jubilation to irritation in a heartbeat and, unwittingly, that icy glare of mine was unleashed. Because, as always, she was accessorising with a bloody phone glued to her ear, chatting away as she walked past fine diners clearly as unimpressed as I was, no doubt wondering what could be so urgent as to entail multi-tasking to that rude degree.
What's more, she had been warned.
My girlfriend is a super successful and switched-on type, something I admire her for. But that comes at a cost to those who know her. The last time we had dinner, her husband, kids, office, mother, two mutual girlfriends and several thousand Twitter, Instagram and Facebook followers were there with us, via her ever-beeping, constantly-monitored phone. I found it frustrating and let her know it. Which is why, before making our latest catch-up plans, I told her I was joining the Fone Free February movement (despite the appalling and unnecessary misspelling of phone) and sent her the link fonefreefeb.com to check if she would comply with its rules and join me for charity.
There, she read Fone Free Feb CEO and Co-Founder Jack Manning Bancroft explaining that the initiative offers a chance to "take back" time from technology, starting at the dinner table. "As a kid I remember sitting around the dinner table with my parents and their family friends and listening to the conversations going back and forth. At the time I probably found them a bit boring, but out of those conversations I formed opinions, I learned to entertain others' views, I learned to debate and to really listen. The dinner table is the stomping ground for kids to learn the art of conversation. But it's become so normalised to spend mealtimes gazing down at a smartphone. At some point, that's got to stop. It's going to take deliberate intervention to break that habit. It starts with one phone-free dinner."
Chefs such as Matt Moran and Stefano Manfredi are hosting a series of dinners this month where technology is a most unwelcome guest. But my girlfriend told me over the phone before our meeting that it was British neuroscientist, Baroness Susan Greenfield, who sold her on the movement's objective.
"Eating together means so much more than simply fulfilling a biological function by chance in the same place and at the same time as others," she says. "The very root of the term 'companion' is a sharing of bread and has been deep in the human psyche as a very basic form of bonding, in all cultures. Dining together, talking and laughing around a table is what differentiates eating from feeding. We need to reclaim this essential part of being human."
So, when my friend copped my death stare this week with phone at ear, after turning a distinct hue of pale, she promptly hung up and apologised profusely. The phone, she promised, would stay in her bag. On silent. All three courses. And it sort of did (I spied her lunge at it the minute I got up to go to the bathroom, bless her).
Now, I may seem harsh but honestly, I've had it. And I am not alone. Oh no. It appears there are a hell of a lot of others as pissed off as I and ready to unleash their evil eye at phone addicts in their presence.
Smartphones have become like indulged children, dominating every social occasion at the slightest whiff of boredom or distraction. And nothing makes me angrier than their presence at the dinner table. Surely, with food and wine and conversation on offer, a video of a cat playing the piano can wait. Along with replying to some friend on Facebook you met briefly years ago, or checking who likes your latest selfie (which no doubt blocked something more interesting in the background).
A personal hero of mine, Andrew Denton, is an ambassador for FFF and, as always, sums up the pesky device's intrusion perfectly: "Every time we respond to the ping of our phones, we turn ourselves over to somebody else's voice or thoughts. Do it all the time and we lose track of our authentic selves. The bit that makes us 'us'. Try alone time, not phone time. Don't think of it as turning something off. Think of it as turning yourself on."
Now, I may seem harsh but honestly, I've had it. And I am not alone. Oh no. It appears there are a hell of a lot of others as pissed off as I and ready to unleash their evil eye at phone addicts in their presence.
Hear, hear!
So, to those who persist in talking to others while supposedly conversing with me – especially at the dinner table – my death stare is coming your way. You have been warned.
Age columnist Wendy Squires is a journalist, editor and author. Twitter: @Wendy_Squires