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Let’s consider a couple of psychological definitions:

1. In exhibitionism, the repeated exposure of the genitals to strangers is used to derive sexual excitement.

2. In narcissistic personality disorder, there is a grandiose sense of self-importance.

Somewhere wrapped up in these two definitions is the cell-phone jerk. This is the person who is determined to expose you to a cell conversation when you have no choice but to listen, in situations of social captivity, such as trains, buses, restaurants.

For years cell-phone users have been given guidelines for courtesy.

A couple of years ago Metra ran a campaign asking cell users to think of people other than themselves. Spokesman Tom Miller said passengers were asked (and still are) to keep ringer volume low, answer on the first ring, keep the conversation quiet, look around to make sure they aren’t bothering anyone.

Chicago Transit Authority spokeswoman Noelle Gaffney said that agency takes a friendly attitude toward cell phones and even is trying to work some technological magic that would make them usable in the subway. The CTA, of course, has perhaps greater security issues.

But we as a society are nearly to the point where all the courtesy guidelines have run their course. That is, those of us who realize we are not the only people walking the planet have learned to take such drastic steps as turning off our ringers in quiet places, including theaters, concert halls, places of worship, mortuaries and Bears cheering sections.

Then there are those who obviously don’t care. These are the ones who chat it up loudly, say, on a Metra train or CTA bus, apparently unconcerned about how so many people were able to crowd into their personal phone booth.

Let’s be clear: This is not an indictment of cell-phone users. Most of us have come to appreciate this revolution in personal communications. No question it has saved lives and otherwise smoothed out countless bumps in the day.

Most commuters would not fault a person for a conversation such as:

“Listen, sweetheart, the train is running 30 minutes late, so don’t wait for me. I’ll just meet you there. OK? Love you.”

That takes 5 or 6 seconds. It’s a sneeze of a conversation. Even some longer conversations are forgivable, provided they are about something: “How badly was he hurt? Which emergency room did they take him to?”

Here is the problem:

The phone rings with a loud and lively Tchaikovsky tune. (Note to the CTA: Doesn’t this come under the admonition against boom boxes and radio playing?)

The 15 or so people in the immediate vicinity are now wide awake and captive for this:

“Hey, dude, how’s it going? What? No, I was up there yesterday, but . . . I know! Incredible! He was so robbed!

“Get out! Get out! Get out! He’ll never get it now. Yeah, I ate there a few days ago. . . . “

It used to be that only a few very different people talked solo on public transportation. Now they are everywhere.

And consider this: Someone somewhere thinks it’s really important to be talking to them.

But regardless, here’s a proposal for the rest of us.

Fight back. The only reason phone jerks can violate us is that we let them. We provide the silence they require for their chat. These people do not care about you or me. They do not care that this is excruciating to be around.

If one of these marathoners starts up next to you, start an even louder conversation with another nearby stranger if possible.

Or perhaps sing, hum, whistle. And do it right at the offender.

If the offender is behind you, turn around, all the way around, and stare. Maybe even drool dangerously close to their knees.

At that point, he or she may interrupt the conversation to say, “Excuse me, but you’re bothering me!”

To which you can reply, “I know precisely what you mean.”

And for the holidays, tell your loved ones that the gifts you’d really like are noisemakers, such as clickers, nose whistles, kazoos, anything that could run interference on a cell atrocity. Pass them out to your regular commuter buddies and arrange strategies.

If you use these items, a conductor or bus driver may ask you to stop. You should comply. But if you want to turn this into a legal challenge, you could explain that you, too, are having a “conversation.” This, of course, is how you communicate with your dead uncle.

If you think the activist approach is too drastic as a first step, give the offender fair warning. Here’s a coupon you can pass along. Maybe it will help.

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Send e-mail for Ross Werland to [email protected].