When It's Acceptable to Be on Speakerphone in Public

"A babbling brook, a breeze rustling the leaves, the sweet trill of a chickadee-Mother Nature can be really distracting when you're on your phone. So a hike is the perfect time to put your conversation on speaker. Your friend is desperate to tell you about the wallpaper she's putting up in her guest bathroom, which means it's imperative that you hear her every word at full volume. No one, except maybe the animals and a few people taking restorative strolls, will notice."

"You are having a heart-to-heart conversation. Your daughter is in the middle of a bitter divorce, and she has no one to turn to but you and the strangers in your elevator. Sure, you could always call her right back, but you're not tethered to the confines of your own home like some landline-owning Luddite. Besides, the FedEx guy is also on speaker, and, from what you can tell, his daughter's divorce is bitter, too."

"You are at Pret A Manger during an off-peak hour. There are only a handful of people eating hard-boiled eggs and having hushed, intense conversations-ergo, very few people will be inconvenienced. Go ahead and pause your loud-ass YouTube video to take this call from Unknown Number. You are in a "Castaway" situation. You're stranded on a desert island and your phone's battery is at ten per cent. If there was ever a time to chat with your loved ones on speaker, this is it."

People frequently place phone conversations on speaker in public, assuming others will not mind. Examples include hikes where nature distracts from loud calls, elevators where strangers overhear family crises, off-peak cafes where patrons pause videos for unknown callers, and stranded situations where low battery is used as justification. Other contexts include dinner parties where hosts insert callers into social moments and customer-service calls placed on speaker in shared spaces. The examples show common rationalizations: convenience, perceived privacy, lack of obligation to use private modes, and assumptions that few people will be inconvenienced.

Read at The New Yorker