In Montfort, a village of 800 people, dinner has a new rule. At the door of each of the six restaurants stands a wooden basket. "Phones go in here," says a small sign, "and come back with the coffee."
The idea came from the owner of the oldest restaurant, Pilar Duarte, who noticed a pattern. "Families sat together and did not speak. Everyone looked at a screen. Dinner was a place, not a conversation." After a trial of one month, she says, customers stayed eighteen minutes longer, ordered more dessert and, most surprisingly, complained less about the service.
Not everybody is happy. Some tourists feel the rule is childish. A local doctor, who is on call at night, was allowed to keep his phone, which created a small debate about who deserves an exception. And the mayor, who has proudly announced a 20 percent increase in visitors, has been accused of using the basket as a marketing tool.
The village's answer is honest. "Maybe it is a little marketing," admits Pilar. "But the marketing works because the dinners are different. Last week, a woman found that she had not spoken to her teenage son for three weeks. At the table, with no screens, they talked for two hours."
Is a basket the solution to our digital habits? Probably not. The same people who leave their phones at the door will pick them up again on the street. Still, the experiment shows something simple: when the choice is removed, the table fills with words. The real test is not at the restaurant, but at home.
Fiction note: All people, places and events in this text are fictional.