Please Remove The Boob Tube

Last week I stepped into a typically crowded post office, but there was no idle chatter in line, no commenting on the latest stamp issued or even joking about the length of our wait. Instead, every last person was staring up at a brand-new plasma TV as it spit out the latest stock-market quotes, breaking news and celebrity sightings. As I gazed around, I felt as though I were entirely alone. And I hated it.

Don't get me wrong: I like TV. Hanging out with Jack Bauer and Jon Stewart often beats spending time with almost anyone who isn't related to me. But I am sick of stumbling across a television set every time I go out to run an errand. Whose groundbreaking customer-service idea was this?

I've seen TVs at the supermarket, the bank, even at Nordstrom. It seems that almost every business I enter now boasts a screen bent on captivating me with its fascinating content so I'll never have to suffer an entertainment-free moment. God forbid I might have to talk to the person next to me, or maybe even—dare I?—spend a minute or two daydreaming. (Sure, you can talk or even daydream when the TV's going, but it's an uphill battle that I resent having to fight.)

My time is precious, and I choose carefully how to spend it. The choices I feel good about rarely involve staring at a screen that someone else just flipped on. I looked around at my post-office pals and was dismayed to see very few of them actively resisting. It's as if they were letting their brains be drained without protest, trapped in some freakishly self-referential episode of "The Twilight Zone."

I know what you're thinking: "Oh boy, another arrogant, NPR-listening cultural elitist whose family is too good for TV." Hardly. My kids are full-to-bursting on their diet of "SpongeBob," "Hannah Montana" and "The Wonder Pets." My husband's idea of great relaxation is a few hours wrapped inside any Dick Wolf show. And I believe I've made my own affinities pretty clear (can we talk "24"?). TV itself is not the issue here. The issue is, why have TVs cropped up in so many public places? Are they there to pacify hyperactive kids? To keep bothersome customers from chatting up the clerks or annoying other shoppers with efforts at conversation? I'm afraid their real purpose is to separate us all by yet another degree, a shiny plasma wedge meant to divide and further isolate us inside our individual techno-bubbles.

Here's a news flash: just because we have the technology—and a 24/7 font of information—does not mean we have to infuse it into every last molecule of available time.