We learned to treat boredom as a breakdown to be repaired at once with the nearest screen. The second a gap appears — the lift, the queue, the traffic light — we fill it in.
But boredom isn't a system error: it's a waiting room. It's the only moment when your head, with no task to attend to, really starts talking to you. That's where the strange ideas are born, the memories that were missing, the decisions you'd spent weeks avoiding.
Every time you cover boredom up on the spot, you hang up right when it was about to say something. Try staying ten seconds longer in the silence. It isn't wasted time: it's your own voice calling.