Are you phubbing me right now?
According to recent reports in the media, Phubbing is getting out of hand.
Phubbing?
Phubbing is a portmanteau of “phone” and “snubbing.” The delicate, and not so delicate, art of avoiding your pesky family, friends, and partner for checking how many likes you got on that all-important Facebook post you made about a funny sign you saw on the way home from work.
But what does phubbing really man in practice? Consider this scenario: As couples and friends gathered to enjoy the warm evening at the local cafe, Jenny sat at her usual table, tapping her fingers impatiently on the wrought iron surface. Her gaze flicked between her best friend, Sarah, and Sarah’s phone, which seemed glued to her hand, mainly because she did glue it to her hand.
“Sarah, can you put your phone down for just a minute?” Jenny asked, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’ve been trying to tell you something important. I won $10 million today in the lottery.”
“Uh-huh,” Sarah mumbled, not once taking her eyes off the small screen.
“She’s phubbing me right now!” Jenny thought to herself, feeling a pang of disappointment as she recalled the term she’d recently learned. “It’s when someone ignores their partner, family, or friends in favor of their phone. Either that or it’s the sound your shoe makes when it gets caught in the escalator.” She had been excited to share her news with Sarah, but now it seemed like she was just another casualty of this growing problem.
“Sarah, I’m serious,” Jenny insisted, her voice cracking slightly. “This is important, and I need your support right now.”
“Okay, okay,” Sarah replied, finally setting her phone down. “What’s up? You said you won $10 in the lottery? That’s great.”
“No, you nut,” Jenny said, relieved. “I just found out today that I got the promotion I’ve been working so hard for, and I wanted to celebrate with you.”
“Congratulations!” Sarah beamed, reaching across the table to squeeze her friend’s hand. “But I’m sorry if I was phubbing you earlier. It’s just that my sister keeps sending me updates about her new baby, and I didn’t want to miss anything.”
“I understand,” Jenny said softly, remembering her own phone tucked away in her purse. “We’re all guilty of it sometimes, but we’ve got to try harder if we want to keep our relationships strong. You are phubbing me for a baby that doesn’t even have a name yet.”
“Agreed,” Sarah smiled, her eyes now fully focused on Jenny. “Let’s make a pact – no phones for the rest of the night. I want to hear all about your promotion. OK, you said they made you CEO, right?”
“Uh, no, not CEO, phubface. Branch manager.” Jenny grinned, feeling grateful for the small victory against phubbing and the chance to truly connect with her friend.
Spot the Phub
“Hey, I have an idea,” Sarah said. “Let’s make a game out of it. We can call it ‘Spot the Phub.’ Whenever we catch ourselves or others engaging in phubbing behavior, we’ll have to do something silly or embarrassing as a consequence.”
“Like what?” Jenny grinned, intrigued by the idea.
“Maybe we douse the other person with our drink!” Sarah offered, already thinking of potential punishments. “The point is to break the habit and have fun doing it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jenny agreed, her spirits lifted by their proactive approach. “Let’s reclaim our conversations and bring laughter back.”
“What did you say?” Sarah asked. “I was just checking my Instagram to see if Kim Kardashian is still Photoshopping her pix.”
Jenny picked up her 64-ounce diet soda and dumped the whole thing on Sarah’s head.
Casing the city for phubbing
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the park as Sarah and Jenny strolled along the paved walkway. They had just spent the day playing their “Spot the Phub” game, and it had been both eye-opening and entertaining. Both were soaked by repeated dousing with soda, tea, iced coffee and one sambuca. As they approached a bench overlooking the pond, they noticed a young couple sitting together, their faces illuminated by the glow of their respective phones.
“Looks like another case of phubbing,” Jenny whispered, nudging Sarah. “Let’s nip this in the bud.”
Jenny approached the couple. “Sir, I am with the Phubbing Detection and Prevention Bureau with the city. This is my partner Sarah O’Hotpants. I am issuing you a citation for phubbing.”
“For what?” the man said. “You don’t work for the city, and you better get out of here right now before I call the police!” he yelled as he chased the women down the street. They ran laughing down to the corner, catching their breath when they had to wait for traffic to clear.
“Man, that was great!” Sarah said. “How did you come up with that story?”
“I thought of it when I was phubbing you earlier,” Jenny said.
“Oh.”
Absentee father
Sarah and Jenny sat on a wooden bench, their eyes drawn to a family nearby – a mother pushing her giggling toddler on the swing and a father sitting at the picnic table, his attention fixated on the smartphone in his hands.
“Look at that,” Sarah whispered, her voice tinged with sadness. “He’s missing out on these precious moments. Do your thing again. It’s hilarious.”
“Sir!” Jenny said as she approached the family. “I notice you were phubbing your family. Can you stand up please.”
“What are you talking about?” the man said.
“Sir, I’m with the city’s Phubbing Detection and Prevention department. You were clearly phubbing your family, so I’ll need to see some ID right now please.”
“Oh, I didn’t know I was doing that. Sure, here is my ID. By the way, what are you talking about?
“You were phubbing. Ignoring your family by burying your nose in your phone. What were you doing? Watching adult films?”
“What? No! I was checking the British Open leaderboard. I have $20,000 on the line.”
“Really?” Jenny said. “Who do you have to win?”
“Oh, Bryson for sure.”
“Bro!” Jenny jumped back. “You must be kidding. He can’t handle a links course!”
Jenny and the man argued about his golf bet for the next 10 minutes. Sarah sat down and took out her phone to watch a YouTube video on how to grow hemp in your closet.
Phubbers Anonymous
Phubbing is so bad now; Phubbers Anonymous support groups are popping up in urban centers and rural areas alike. In Philadelphia, a group of ten met at a community center on a Wednesday night. Each person had come seeking solace and understanding, united by a common thread – the sting of being phubbed and its impact on their relationships.
As they settled into their chairs arranged in a circle, the sound of metal scraping against the linoleum floor echoed through the room. The air was filled with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee, which seemed to invite them to open up and share their experiences.
At the head of the circle sat Serena, a woman in her thirties with tired eyes that belied an inner strength. She glanced around the room, taking note of each person’s unique features and mannerisms – the nervous tapping of Tom’s fingers on his armrest, the way Maria’s eyes darted from one speaker to the next, the stoic expression on John’s face as he prepared to share his story.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Serena began, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “I know it’s not easy to discuss something as personal as the feeling of being phubbed, but I truly believe that sharing our experiences can help us heal and grow stronger.
“Today, we’re here to share our experiences with phubbing and how it has affected our relationships. I’ll go first. At my previous job, I was part of a team-building exercise. I thought it would be a great opportunity to bond with my coworkers, but they phubbed me the entire time.”
As Serena recounted her story, the others in the circle listened attentively. It was clear that they, too, had experienced the sting of being phubbed.
Phubbed at the family reunion
“Thank you for sharing that, Serena,” said John, his voice tight with anger as he recalled his own experience. “My sister-in-law refused to even acknowledge my existence at a family gathering. I tried to engage with her, but she just phubbed away whenever I spoke. You could imagine how infuriating that felt.”
John’s hands clenched into fists, betraying the frustration that simmered beneath his calm exterior. The rest of the group nodded in agreement, their own memories of similar experiences bubbling to the surface.
“Being phubbed like that can really hurt,” Maria chimed in, her voice soft yet resolute. “When people act as if we don’t matter, it can make us question our worth.”
“Exactly,” Tom agreed, his eyes distant as he remembered the cold stares he had received from former friends at a party. “No one should have to feel like they’re invisible or unimportant.”
The conversation flowed naturally, with each person taking turns to share their stories of phubbing and exclusion. As they spoke, their voices carried the weight of their emotions—pain, anger, frustration, and even hope.
Phubbed on the down low
“Sometimes it’s hard to know what to do when we’re being phubbed,” Lily admitted, her eyes downcast as she thought about being excluded from a group chat with her classmates. “But I guess that’s why we’re all here, right? To support each other and figure this out together.”
“Exactly,” Sarah agreed, nodding emphatically. “We can’t control how others treat us, but we can choose to stand up for ourselves and let them know that their phubbing is unacceptable.”
The room filled with murmurs of agreement, each person reflecting on their experiences and finding solace in the shared understanding that they were not alone. Through their stories, they began to see the importance of treating others with kindness and respect, recognizing that no one should ever feel left out or invisible.
Lily, a teenager with braces and a nervous smile, fidgeted in her chair before speaking up. “Um, so, I was phubbed by my classmates,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “It might sound silly, but it hurt a lot. Everyone texted inside jokes and plans they made without me, and I felt so… invisible.”
The room fell silent, allowing Lily’s words to resonate. Her eyes darted around the circle, searching for understanding.
The old Pokemon phub
Tom, an older man with graying hair and deep-set eyes, leaned forward. “I know how you feel, Lily. It’s like there’s this invisible barrier between you and everyone else.” His voice carried the weight of experience as he continued, “A while back, I attended a party where I had been close to many of the people there. But something changed, and when I arrived, they all took out their phones to play Pokemon without me.”
As Tom spoke, his hands gestured subtly, painting a picture of the scene. He described the laughter that seemed to mock him, the awkward silences when he tried to engage in conversation, and the way he felt like a ghost among his former friends.
Lily’s eyes welled up with tears, and she nodded in agreement. “That’s exactly it. You’re surrounded by people, but you’ve never felt more alone. I can’t join in on their phubbing because I know nothing about pickleball. It’s all they phub about all day.”
“Loneliness,” Tom murmured, “is one of the hardest things to bear.”
The other members of the group listened intently, their postures shifting as they absorbed the raw emotions that Lily and Tom shared. They recognized themselves in these stories, each carrying their own burdens of phubbing and exclusion.
“Sometimes, it feels like we’re fighting an uphill battle,” Lily admitted, wiping away a tear. “But we can’t let it define us.”
“Right,” Tom agreed, his voice firm. “We can rise above it and become stronger for it.”
Is phubbing ever justified?
“Thank you all for sharing,” Maria said, leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s clear that we’ve all been deeply affected by phubbing, but I’m curious – do you think there are any situations where phubbing might be justified?”
The question hung in the air like an unspoken challenge, and the room fell silent as each person considered their answer. It was Tom who finally spoke up, his voice hesitant yet resolute. “I think… if someone is being deliberately cruel or harmful, it might be necessary to distance ourselves from them.”
“Exactly,” John chimed in, the anger from his earlier story still simmering beneath the surface. “If someone’s hurting us, we have the right to protect ourselves. And sometimes, that means cutting off their phubbing.”
Lily chewed on her lower lip, her brow furrowed in thought. “But what if it only makes things worse? What if they feel even more isolated and lashing out because of it?”
Setting phubbing boundaries
“Sometimes, we have to put our well-being first,” Maria mused, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the arm of her chair. “We can’t always be responsible for how others react to our boundaries.”
As the conversation flowed around her, Lily felt a knot of uncertainty tighten in her chest. She understood the need for self-preservation, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a better way – one that didn’t involve causing more pain to others. But what could that look like, she wondered, when so much of her own experience had been defined by the sting of rejection?
“Maybe,” Sarah offered softly, her eyes filled with a quiet wisdom, “we can find ways to communicate our boundaries about phubbing. To be honest and clear about our needs, but also open to understanding and supporting each other.”
The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, as if they’d all been holding their breath, waiting for someone to voice this alternative. And in that moment, it felt as though a door had opened – one that led to a world where empathy and respect reigned supreme, where kindness wasn’t just a lofty ideal, but a tangible reality.
“Let’s strive for that,” Mark said, his voice full of conviction. “We’ve all felt the pain of being phubbed, so let’s make sure we don’t inflict it on others. We can break the cycle, starting right here, with each other.”
Phubbed by the boss
The scent of coffee still hung in the air as David shifted in his chair, finding his voice. He looked around the circle, his eyes betraying a lifetime of vulnerability.
“Y’know, I used to have this boss,” he began, his voice cracking slightly before steadying. “He’d phub me whenever I had an idea or tried to speak up in meetings. Didn’t matter how hard I worked – I was invisible to him.”
David paused, taking a deep breath, and continued. “One day, I decided I’d had enough. I confronted him, politely but firmly. Told him I deserved not to be phubbed, just like everyone else.” He looked around the room, seeking validation from his fellow group members. “It didn’t change everything overnight, but it was a start. I felt more empowered, more… alive.”
Phubbed in high school
Rachel, who had been listening intently, chimed in. “I wish I’d had your courage back in high school. My best friend turned on me, started phubbing me out of nowhere.” She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I spent years questioning my worth because of her.”
“High school can be brutal,” Lily murmured sympathetically, remembering her own story of exclusion.
“More than that,” Rachel said, her voice thick with emotion. “It took me so long to build myself back up after that. Even now, sometimes I find myself doubting whether I’m good enough. It’s like her ghost is still haunting me.”
Moving forward
David reached across the circle, placing a comforting hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I think we all carry those ghosts with us,” he admitted, his words resonating with the group. “But sharing our stories here, supporting each other… maybe we can exorcise them together.”
“Let’s remember this feeling,” John said, his voice quivering with determination. “Let’s use it to drive us forward, to make sure we don’t perpetuate the cycle of phubbing.”
