Poker Face

DIGITAL COMMUNICATION

This satirical article points out the differences between one-way Communication, such as email, texting, posting on social media, etc and two-way Communication, which takes place face to face or in a group, and allows for dialogue, as well as feedback through tone, body language, and facial expressions.

newyorker.com/magazine/2013/05/20/poker-face

We don’t live in the information age. That would be an insult to information, which, on some level, is supposed to inform. We live in the Communication age. Ten billion fingers fumbling away, un-autocorrecting emails, texts, and tweets; each one an opportunity to offend, alienate, and aggrieve, all in public, and at light speed. The misinterpretation age.

Not long ago, I noticed a friend ended almost every sentence, in every email, with an exclamation mark. Astonishing! I had, up to this point, imagined that everyone had a tiny velvet bag of exclamation marks, hidden somewhere behind the dresser, to be taken out and used only on special occasions: one apiece for the birth of your children; a choice few to chase off a carjacker. In the misinterpretation age, however, there’s no time for hoarding resources. Applied liberally, the exclamation mark takes the stink of sarcasm off email. A sentence without one is suspect. Slippery. Ambiguous. “Thanks.” But a sentence suitably equipped becomes honest, enthusiastic, courageous. “Thanks!” I no longer felt secure sending an email with fewer than five of the things; a row of smart little hammer-and-nails smashing flat any chance that the reader might misunderstand.

The exclamation mark led me, inevitably, to the emoticon. I offer no regrets. Enabling the emoji keyboard in my smartphone was like tumbling down a softly carpeted flight of stairs and into a sparkling, happy party in which every sentence was understood. No harm, no foul, no worries. I simply mixed and matched parenthesis and colon, semicolon, etc. to convey the exact emotional subtext. Entire sentences could be expressed in emoticons. Not just faces. Little pictures of handguns, dog poo, poison. No wonder the pharaohs ruled for three thousand years; their written language left no room for ambiguity.

My written Communications were now unimpeachable. Digital. Clean. But in person there was still one big obstacle to Effective Communication; that great bungler of human expression. The last dead giveaway. The human face of communication.

Where my emoji keyboard gave me an almost virtuosic mastery of my emotions as presented to others, our faces remain blunt instruments: the flinches, the microexpressions, the tells. The human face is a mess, roiling with divergent emotions, as if your deepest self had signed up for Twitter. I considered wearing a ski mask to the office.

But I think I’ve hit on a solution. A device like a necktie, with a small set of contacts that trigger the nerve endings just below the chin. Controls connected wirelessly to the emoji keyboard on my phone, bringing the whole mess full circle. A smartface. Stepping into a power meeting? Select that winning, stoic half smile. On a date? Dial in a little mystery. Responses would be semi-automatic. Parameters assigned. Someone says something uncouth, unreconstructed, obscene? People would never know from your reaction—unless you wanted them to.

A premium account brings deeper integration with big data: Facebook, Google, the Department of Justice. Your smartface will flash a broad, toothy smile at people whose politics and world view match yours—and a tight little one for those whose don’t. A small wink for your fellow N.R.A. or PETA members. Why make your friends pull out their phones when they can read your status right there on your knotted brow: “It’s complicated”? In more charged social situations, your face could finally start looking out for you instead of letting you down.

Digital emotions. Sweet relief for those of us equipped with a sour puss. Downloadable content would insure that your new kisser remained unflappable, ambiguity-free, fresh. Expansion packs for more sophisticated looks: consternation, triumph, ennui. The Calvin Klein smirk. The Versace grimace. If I can afford it, I’ll go custom; a bespoke smile built just for me by an emoji speakeasy in a painfully trendy neighborhood. Mouth tilted down ever so slightly at the corners, eyes narrowed to an Eastwood, my face drawn into a rictus of mild amusement, two degrees south of smug, one north of glib. Right on target. Walking along the street assured that my poker face betrays nothing—and that no one could possibly misunderstand. ☺

“Life should be faced.”

EDWARD NORTON