Drink the Coffee While It's Still Hot

Dear Fellow Snitcher,

Humans are social creatures. That is an unfortunate fact. No matter how independent and unique we may think we are as individuals, time and time again we are reminded that life is not something we can do alone. From little things like taking turns to cook dinner or clean the house, to much bigger, more important things—loved ones to spend birthdays with, or shoulders to cry on throughout loss.

And yet, when I look around myself on the street, on the train, at work, I see that everybody is always on their phones. If it’s not in your hand, it’s splayed out on the table in front of you, face up, your eyes eagerly awaiting the dopamine rush of the screen lighting up with a new notification, your mood at any given moment contingent on an object barely the size of your hand, present company inconsequential. Perhaps Orson Welles was correct when he said, “We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone.”

Let me paint you a picture.

Settling into a cosy corner of a local cafe, a boy and a girl free themselves of their outer layers. Coat, scarf, the lot. Their drinks arrive by the time they’re done, two cups and saucers with steam rising from above the rim. The girl’s eyes light up, and so does the screen of her phone. Before the boy can so much as reach for his drink, eager to throw the warm and soothing liquid down his throat, dry from the cold, he clasps his hands together under the table and waits. And he waits. And he continues waiting. For she spends a lot of her time on Instagram, worrying about Instagram, about how other people might view her through Instagram. She’s got this routine down to a tee, even if it still takes her a while—is there any disagreeable clutter in the back, is the angle correct, and does the perfectly foamy latte art shine just right in the warm glow of the coffee shop’s lights? The scene leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Bitter, like the coffee between them that cools, gradually, untouched. In this moment, they share each other’s company. In truth, they are alone.

Though I’m not proud to admit it, I’ve been these people. And, if you’re still reading this, you probably have too. But I’ve also been another kind of person: a person who can enjoy her coffee while it is still hot, a person who can remember every wrinkle and freckle etched into the face of the person sitting before her. A person who does not spend her precious minutes worrying about what others will think of her through their screens, of the photos she lives through; instead she is aware of what is right in front of her, and she is able to enjoy it fully.

Take two. The boy unravels his scarf, he takes a big and hearty swig from his mug, draining nearly half of it, and pulls out a small watercolour painting kit. The girl opposite him has barely taken her first delicate sip before he’s started scratching at the ridiculously tiny book with his little brush, a scene unfolding on the paper much like the one before him—a table, two cups, and the girl watching him fondly with her chin in her hands. He shows the half-formed thing to her eagerly. She smiles, her eyes creasing into half-moons at the cartoon rendition of her. Not a single word has passed between them for the past ten, fifteen minutes, but speaking is not necessary for them to feel each other.

Social media itself is not inherently an evil object—indeed, it’s a very useful tool. Planning to meet at a cafe in the first place, or finding out which new cafe might be nice to visit. But, taken a step too far, Instagram or TikTok or Twitter can provide only fleeting, empty joy. An addictive rush reliant on your body’s shivering response to its depleting dopamine supply, much like caffeine from the coffee in front of you.

But to take control back from these apps, to take back your life and the precious time you spend with your loved ones, in mirthful chit-chat or blissful silence, wouldn’t that be nice? Your phone can become a tool once again, as was once intended, instead of something that keeps you isolated, miles away. Welles’ quote, after all, has an unexpected second part: “Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for a moment that we’re not alone.” Whether or not love and friendship is an illusion, I cannot decide for you. But, if it was, perhaps it is a better alternative to the vibrant, ultimately empty, colours dancing across your screen.

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