Phone at home

On restaurant cell-phone protocol

By Kathy Gunst

COMMISSARY: they don’t like cell phones, but they don’t want to lose business either.

It’s a glorious fall day, the kind that tricks you into believing that winter isn’t just around the corner. I’m sitting at a Portland café, the windows wide open. I order a coffee and marvel at my sense of freedom. I have exactly three hours where I don’t have to pick up my kids, turn on my computer, or return any business calls. So I do something I rarely have time to do. I look at the sky, admiring the clarity of its blueness. I take in the saltiness of the air in the Old Port, listen to the gulls squawk. And then I hear it. The sound of a cell phone doing its little musical ring.

It’s the groovster sitting at the next table. She’s pierced and hip, her blue jean jacket sewn with badges from rock bands I’ve never heard of. She has a loud, booming voice.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you called,” she starts. “I am so glad you called. Because I had the absolute best sex of my life last night. You won’t believe it. Listen to this . . .” Oh my God! What’s a girl to do? Pretend she isn’t a voyeur, sitting a mere six feet from a personal sex confessor? Or rise above it all and go back to nature? You guessed right.

“He was the best kisser ever. I’m talking about 110 on a scale of one to 100. He had this way of kissing me that felt like he was, like, talking to me. Like each time our lips connected he was, like, telling me something really intimate and important.” I pretend to sip my coffee and return to my moment of peace, but the moment had long evaporated, lost in a stranger’s phone call, a stranger’s sex life. Oddly enough, as her description becomes more graphic, my interest in her sex life diminishes and my resentment grows.

Whether you carry a cell phone or not, think they are a great invention or a nuisance, there’s no denying that they have become a fixture of our public spaces — whether our stores, streets, airports, or restaurants. Based on my experience, Maine’s restaurants are littered with cell phone users. But, according to the handful of restaurant managers I spoke with, many restaurateurs have found it unnecessary to regulate their use.

At Fore Street in Portland, assistant manager Robyn Pettengill says many clients use cell phones, but the restaurant doesn’t have a policy against them. “They end up being really disruptive,” she admits. “Waiters and waitresses are trying to do their jobs and people are on the phone. They get the hand, shooing them away, like ‘Don’t bother me, I’m on the phone now’ kind of thing.

“We do frown upon them, but we’re not going to tell people they can’t have them,” Pettengill explains. “That’s up to the individual. Fore Street is all brick walls so the connection isn’t very clear. Most people have to take their calls outside anyway. We usually have five guys hanging around the vestibule talking on their cell phones. What can you do?”

At Commissary, inside the Portland Market, manager Chris Spahn says that because the restaurant is located in a public market “with lots of ambient noise you can barely hear the things ringing.” Commissary also has no cell phone policy, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t bothered by them. “What I can’t stand,” Spahn says, “is seeing a table of two and one person is sitting there talking through the entire lunch while the other person sits there all alone. I just hate that!”

In Rockland, at Primo’s, Chef Melissa Kelly explains that “some people do note on the bottom of their menus that cell phones are not allowed, but we don’t feel the need to do it. Unless it gets to the point where people’s phones are ringing off the hook, I doubt we’ll deal with it. It’s too bad when people are spending a lot of money to eat food that has been made with care and all they do is talk and make plans for the next event in their life instead of being here enjoying themselves.”

Many restaurants in large metropolitan areas have chosen to ban cell phones. Is Maine next in line? Chris Spahn of Commissary thinks not. “Maine is just too small and the restaurant market is too competitive for anyone to make a policy that might keep away customers,” Spahn explains. But Fore Street’s Pettengill says she can foresee a time when the restaurant may be forced to make a no-cell policy. “Maybe we’ll have a cell phone area,” she laughs. “Like a smoker’s area. Kind of isolated and off in the corner.”

If Maine restaurants aren’t willing to limit cell phone use than it’s up to diners to create their own sense of “cell phone protocol.” What’s the appropriate way to deal with a loud talker or someone interrupting your dining experience? As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfectly acceptable to politely let someone know that their cell phone conversation is bothering you. If you don’t feel good about the direct approach, you should ask your waiter or the manager to deal with the situation.

Back in the Old Port, a large cloud has now formed over the cafe. The woman is still talking about her night of great sex. The last thing I hear her say, before I get up to leave, is “I don’t know. I feel really shy about this. I just don’t, like, want a lot of people to know about this yet. You know what I mean?”