C1.2 · 16 of 34
Lesson · 3 rules · about 3 min
Eine Zeitungskolumne über ständige Erreichbarkeit, in fünf Zügen: eine rhetorische Frage, beantwortet mit dem Ein-Wort-Satz „Eben.“; die Norm (ständige Erreichbarkeit gilt als selbstverständlich) und ihre Strafe (wer nicht antwortet, gilt als unhöflich); eine Alltagsszene im Café, die das belegt; das Zugeständnis an den naheliegenden Einwand, gefolgt von der Wendung mit „Doch ich frage mich, ob wir dabei nicht etwas Wichtiges verlieren“; und ein Vorschlag im Konjunktiv (Wie wäre es, wenn …?), klar abgegrenzt von der extremen Position, die der Autor ablehnt. Die Kolumne ist die persönliche Verwandte des Essays: erste Person, direkte Anrede (Sie), kurze Sätze. Wer sie gut liest, weiß, was kritisiert wird, wie die Norm beschrieben wird, wie der Autor mit Einwänden umgeht und was genau er vorschlägt.
Wann haben Sie zuletzt eine Stunde lang nichts getan, ohne zum Handy zu greifen? Eben. Ich auch nicht. Wir leben in einer Zeit, in der ständige Erreichbarkeit als selbstverständlich gilt – im Beruf ebenso wie im Freundeskreis. Wer nicht innerhalb weniger Minuten antwortet, gilt schnell als unhöflich, wenn nicht gar als unzuverlässig.
Continues on the next page
When did you last do nothing for an hour without reaching for your phone? Exactly. Nor did I. We live in a time in which constant availability is taken for granted – at work just as much as among friends. Anyone who doesn't reply within a few minutes is quickly considered rude, if not unreliable. The two blue ticks next to a message have become a kind of receipt: read but not answered – people now hold that against us more than a forgotten birthday. Recently I was sitting in a café with a friend. Three times she interrupted our conversation to reply to her boss, although it was Saturday afternoon. "Otherwise he'll think I'm not committed," she said apologetically. I said nothing, because in her place I would probably have done exactly the same. That is precisely the point: nobody ever decided on this rule, and yet almost everyone keeps to it. The expectation of reacting immediately has crept in like a bad habit, and hardly anyone dares to question it openly. One can object that a quick reply speeds up processes and avoids misunderstandings. That is true, at least sometimes. But I wonder whether we are not losing something important in the process. Anyone who is constantly waiting for the next signal is never fully with the task in hand, and never fully with the person sitting opposite. Psychologists speak of fragmented attention; I simply call it distraction. And distraction is exhausting: anyone who is worn out in the evening although they have apparently done nothing special knows what I am talking about. I am not arguing for banishing the phone to a drawer. That would be unrealistic, and it wouldn't change anything either. But how would it be if we relearned the art of waiting? If we allowed ourselves to answer a message only in the evening, and granted others the same right? Some companies now switch off their mail servers after working hours. That is a start, but not a solution as long as we cultivate the same hectic pace in private. For not every message has to be answered in the same minute in which it arrives. Most of them tolerate a few hours' delay surprisingly well. Try it. The world won't end because of it. And who knows: perhaps the others will then reply to you a little later too – and a little more thoughtfully in return.
Exercise
Lesen: Eine Kolumne · C1.2
No single question is on screen — the report is about the whole exercise.
Reports go to the forum, where anyone can read them and the answer is kept for the next learner. To send one — and to be told when it is answered — sign in first. It takes one email, and no password.
Signing in lets us reply to your report, and shows you the answer the next time you are here. We email you a one-time link: no password, and nothing is shared with anyone.
Everything works without an account. Signing in backs your progress up, carries it to your phone, and lets you post on the forum.
One email, no password. We email you a one-time link: no password, and nothing is shared with anyone.