More Info Needed
by Jeff McLaughlin
“Good morning, Elaine, what can I get for you?”
“Caramel latte, please. Lots of whipped cream on top.”
“Of course. Why do I even ask?”
Elaine smiles broadly and with appreciation as Jay, the barista, hands her the latte, with a peaked mountain of whipped cream rising on top.
Elaine asks, “Did you see the news about that synagogue across town … the hostage taking?”
“Oh, um no, I don’t know about that.”
“Fortunately, all of the hostages got out OK. The gunman is dead, though.”
“Well, that’s good.” says Jay. Elaine lingers, as if expecting Jay to follow up or to probe for details, since he is obviously hearing about yesterday’s hostage event for the first time. When no further response is forthcoming, she nods and returns to her table.
Jay turns around and picks up a composition book and pen from beside the espresso machine and writes: First interaction went OK; a little bit awkward when I didn’t ask for more information, but I managed to maintain attentional discipline. Curiosity piqued but resisted.
It’s Tuesday morning. Over the previous weekend, Jay Troxell had finally concluded that he needs to know less, not more. It felt like he had somehow dreamed this decision, or that the desire was based on a dream sequence no longer recalled. At any rate, the origin wasn’t clear. But beginning on a certain day (Monday … yesterday), Jay had resolved to remove from his life as many knowledge-generating influences as possible.
Actually, for Jay, it isn’t knowledge in general that is the problem. It’s the details. Details, details, details everywhere. Who needs them? They oppress, they require attention, they feed right into the latent obsessiveness that Jay is always struggling to hold at bay. So, the first thing Jay did on that certain Monday morning was cancel his on-line subscription to the New York Times. He also deleted his MSNBC podcasts and other news-related bookmarks, shortcuts, and apps from both laptop and phone. Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts were deactivated, as well. Periodicals would also be off limits, though perhaps harder to avoid, especially the slew of newspapers and magazines easily scanned in the grocery store line. And while listening in the car, talk radio – including both mainstream and wacky news programs – would be avoided.
On that particular and significant Monday morning, it didn’t take Jay long to realize how complicated this mission would be in the great big world of words and information … and details! But Jay was determined to succeed in his quest. Or maybe it was a quest-in-reverse, since rather than searching for something, he endeavored to lose a whole lot of somethings. Namely, details. And more details after that. From this day forward, Jay would absorb the world in its unelaborated, pure present form only, absent all of the unnecessary minutiae and detailed commentary.
Conversation, of course, could not be entirely exorcised from the attentional universe, especially for a barista. Jay would just need to carefully monitor his engagement, so as to avoid unintentional detail-mongering by himself or others. Otherwise innocent conversations might effortlessly slide into details of world events, or weather, or neighborhood gossip. Also, a new approach to driving would need to be adopted. Driving would become a much more focused act, with eyes on the road and away from billboards and other information-laden visuals along the way. The exception, of course, would be road signs: speed limit signs, exit signs, warnings of various sorts, detour signs, and the like. Such signs generally contain information of only short-term usefulness, so they are less dangerous in relation to Jay’s mission.
So, on that first day (Monday, yesterday), Jay wrote all of this down in list form, realizing – because of how complicated and far-reaching the whole enterprise was sure to be – that it was a work-in-progress. At the top of the list, he wrote the title Attentional Disengagement, a perfect name for the mission he was about to undertake. The first test – out in the real world – would be at Beans ‘n’ Greens, one of Jay’s two workplaces. Conversation flowed as a very natural – even expected – part of this environment, which would therefore provide a good test of attentional discipline, as Jay liked to think of the new skills he was practicing. Jay’s other part-time job was across town, at an automated car wash, where conversation could easily and naturally be limited to monetary exchange and brief instructions provided to drivers entering the car wash.
Thus, it is that today’s first interaction is with Elaine, a local artist and regular customer at Beans ‘n’ Greens. As she sits at her table alone, reading and sipping her latte, Jay concludes that their previous conversation might have already escaped her memory (but maybe not?). At any rate, a great quantity of detail has been avoided, not allowed to enter the already-overcrowded world of informational detritus. Still, he is a little bit curious about that synagogue story. Did he come across as apathetic and insensitive by not asking Elaine for the details? Jay cares about this because, over the past few months, he has taken an active and curious interest in Elaine. She’s an artist, but what else? Would it be weird to ask her to meet sometime outside of my work-space? Did I just wreck that possibility with my aloofness? In the journal, Jay adds: Was I rude? I don’t think so, but pay attention to this. Or don’t? What is Elaine thinking right now? This attentional disengagement is obviously – again – still a work-in-progress, after all.
The next customer orders a regular black coffee and asks Jay if he knows whether it’s supposed to rain later in the day. “I don’t know,” replies Jay, automatically feigning interest and curiosity, as if he intends to search up the weather report. However, instead, he hands over the coffee and collects the $2.40 without further comment. This is awkward. As the customer walks away, Jay can’t help but wonder whether rain is, in fact, expected. But in the absence of relevant information, the forecast will remain unknown. According to plan, a few extra (weather-related) details have been prevented from invading Jay’s conscious cognitive environment.
When Elaine returns to the counter for a refill, Jay is tempted to ask about her latest artistic projects (her medium of preference being watercolor … applied to a variety of foundations, such as cardboard, prepared wood, and homemade paper). Some of Elaine’s pieces are hanging in Beans ‘n’ Greens, but she is undoubtedly working on others. As he hands the refill to Elaine, Jay is again cognizant of the complicated and impractical nature of attentional disengagement. Forgetting himself momentarily, he says aloud but softly, “This is not going to work.”
“What? … Did you say something?” asks Elaine, with genuine curiosity in her gaze as she takes the refilled cup from Jay.
Realizing the slippery slope that has just appeared, but unable to hold back, Jay replies, “Oh, um, I was just going to ask you what projects you’ve been working on. Anything new?” (Uh-oh. Slippery slope.)
“Well … actually, I am in the middle of creating a series of watercolors based on the story of Ruth from the Old Testament. Do you know the story?”
“I do actually. I’d love to hear more about it.” (It’s true; one of Jay’s passions is comparative religious literature.)
“I’d enjoy sharing some of my ideas, actually, and getting feedback. Do you want to meet sometime … when you’re not working?”
“Sure. I’m free tomorrow afternoon, after 3:30.” (Skating …)
“How about dinner, then, somewhere … well, you might know more about the restaurants in the area.”
“OK, great. Let me give it some thought and I’ll text you later.”
Elaine writes her phone number on a piece of napkin and hands it to Jay, saying, “Here you go. Looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.” As Jay watches Elaine return to her table, the next customer in line speaks up. “Excuse me, can I get a medium roast coffee, no cream, please.”
As Jay fills the mug, the customer says, “By the way, did you hear about that synagogue thing, over on South Juniper?” (Skidding …)
“Yes, I heard a little about it, but not how the whole thing ended. What did you hear?”
“Well, all of the hostages got out OK. The gunman is dead, though.”
“Wow, that’s intense. How many hostages?”
“I think about fifteen or so, mostly adults but a couple of kids, too.”
“Man, you never know, do you.” Jay hands over the filled cup.
“That’s right … you never do. How much is that?”
“$2.40.” Jay collects three singles and returns the change, which the customer drops into the tip jar. “Thanks a lot. Enjoy the day.”
“You, too.”
Jay makes a mental note to pick up the local paper on his way home. He definitely wants to read more about the synagogue. He also reminds himself to research local restaurants. Based on what I know, what kind of place would Elaine prefer? Inside or outside? And is it supposed to rain tomorrow?
And as for that other mission, the attentional disengagement project … more data are needed prior to implementation. It’s clearly on hold for now. The work-in-progress, pending further research, is a work-in-limbo. (Tumbling …)