It took the Titanic two hours and forty minutes to sink. Many died in the freezing sea, while about 710 were saved in lifeboats.

It is almost certain that those in lifeboats were of different classes and genders and ages. Thus, after the ship sank, there must have been a pause (which I call the ‘lifeboat interval’), after which somebody must have spoken up and said: “. . . well, here we are. Um, my name is George and, um, I’m with my wife. . . sorry, was with my wife . . . and . . . well, um pleased . . . under the cir- cumstances, naturally, to meet you all.”

And thus the conversation, no matter how awkward, must have progressed. It is human nature to want to communicate, to meet your fellows. If you are in a long queue, endlessly waiting, perhaps in Woolworths, sooner or later, you will try to strike up a conversation with a neighbour, to pass the time.

This works in Gauteng and elsewhere. In the Western Cape, you will get a subzero glance following a muttered grunt through clenched teeth. But forget them. I wrote: “It is human nature to want to communicate.” But! There is a very big but – if you own an iPod or a similar gadget, you do not want to communicate. I know this. I have made a study of it. I have even bought an iPod.

Now wearing earphones while travelling detaches me from the world more than I like. So I only use it when I drive alone. But there is a whole world out there, where people never ever take their earphones out. Young and old, but mostly young. Before they were banned in my office, one of the youth used to wear his earphones and listen to music.

One day, I passed a draughtsperson working on a computer, drawing. I could see it on his computer screen. When I passed by it, was still the same drawing. Funny. Clearly, he had a ‘boss button’, so that, when he heard me coming, he pressed alt–ctrl–X, which would switch his screen from whatever he was doing to the drawing.

The following morning, I checked his computer and found nearly 3 GB of music, obviously downloaded on my watch. So I deleted it all. When he came to work, he plugged in his earphone set, fiddled a bit, hit a few keys and then strode into my office and asked (I quote): “Did you delete my music from my computer?” I said: “No, I deleted your music from my computer. The computer that is owned by this business, which is owned by . . . me.”

I gave him a warning. A week later, he was gone. He told me he “couldn’t work without music”. I thought it was the reverse, but you know me, all polite and nice.

The point is that the iPod or a similar gadget replaces many of the activities which make you bored, which then forces you to change that boredom. Plug in the music and you are away into the world of ‘happy me’ – eye candy for the head. Fully inaccessible and fully distracted.

Am I being unfair? Would you like your crane operator to listen to an iPod when slinging around mixed concrete? Would you like or feel comfortable with a butcher operating a band saw while listening to opera (say, Dmitri Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of Mtensk District/Katerina Izmailova: Body count: 4 (all but one principal)?

Now many people will leap up and say, hey, many surgeons operate to music. Others play music on buses and trains. In kitchens. Everywhere. Yes, they do, but it is back- ground music – not-right-in-the-ear stuff. When your ear is plugged in, that is all you hear. Put bicarb in the soup and salt in the cake and you would not even notice.

I believe that all work, even being an Engineering News columnist, requires some concentration. That concentration goes when you plug it. And what do you miss on the jet airplane when in your own iPod world? You would not notice the gorgeous number next to you eager for friendship. Okay, it has never happened to me. But it might.