One of the most solemn PSAs in the public sphere is the often unheeded request at the start of cultural events for members of the audience to turn off their cellphones. The most effective method I’ve witnessed is also the most buzz-killing, except when it can be pulled off with exactly the correct mixture of humor and admonition: when the performers themselves pull out a cellphone from a pocket, raise it high, invite the audience to do the same, and then instruct them to turn it off. As entreaties go, this works pretty well.
Just before the start of the San Francisco Symphony concert I attended this week, a loud voice reminded people to turn off their phones. This is the common approach — a disembodied, non-accusatorial encouragement to do what’s right. As everyone from the CDC to the Fire Marshall to a school teacher can tell you, it generally isn’t the most effective approach.
What was interesting at the symphony was specifically who was making the request. The disembodied voice identified herself as one of the symphony’s cellists. This struck me as smart: It’s one thing for an anonymous administrator or voice actor to remind people. It’s another for a member of the orchestra to do so. It felt personal. It felt like what’s called a “nudge” these days, a gentle prodding toward better behavior. It’s one thing to ignore an anonymous speaker. It’s another to hear the message from the very same person you’re supposedly about to pay a lot of attention to for two hours straight (not counting intermission).
I mention the following at the risk of diminishing what I’ve described thus far: Still, at least two phones buzzed and one rang near me during the concert.