Go on. Answer it. I dare you.

I don’t know about you, but I am definitely one of those people who surreptitiously (and sometimes not so surreptitiously) uses my phone at the dinner table, or at a bar, or in any social situation where I need a comfort zone/distraction. Sometimes even because I’ve received a call.

Needless to say, I attract a lot of flack for this indiscretion, ranging from the diplomatic, “we can go somewhere else if you want”, to the more defensive, “someone‘s being Mr. Antisocial”, to my father’s inimitable, “Put that fucking thing away before I make you eat it!” My bad.

As more and more dinner parties/social functions et al are invaded by our electronic plus ones, those sneaky Americans have come up with a nifty little social exercise that puts a high price on handling your handset at the dinner table, or in any social situation where your phone is a ready distraction. It’s called the phone stack, and here’s how it works.

As everyone assembles, phones are put face down in the middle of the table. You don’t have to stack them, but it does make a slightly more entertaining centre piece than those garish kerosene lamps.

Let the games begin! As you make your way through the meal, or whatever is going on, the assembled phones will buzz and beep and ring, and you’ll be tempted, oh you’ll be so sorely tempted to reach out and just check, just the mail subject, please! If you’re like me, then within ten minutes you will have developed a social media withdrawal flop sweat, but you, like everyone else, are bound by the one rule of phone stack:

Whoever picks up their phone is footing the bill.

That’s it! There are dozens of infernal tweaks you can introduce to make the game more interesting. You can develop drinking rules based on phone activity, you can mock your friends’ ridiculous ring tone choices, or alternatively sing along with them. You can wager whose handset will light up next. The game flips over the notion that having a phone at a function is a dirty little secret, and puts the taboo front and centre for everyone to enjoy, and for one poor sod to pay for. I believe my dad would approve.

[Source: Kempt]