Me on small talk? Um, yeah, whatever. Now let’s talk about me.
Roxanne Roberts, Style columnist for the Washington Post, writes about the art of making small talk, and, oddly, cites me. Her three rules:
1. Shut up and listen.
2. When in doubt, repeat Rule 1.
3. People, even the really shy ones, like to talk about themselves and will do so if you know how to draw them out. You have to be genuinely interested. You have to check your ego. If this is done right, they walk away thinking you’re great.
Sounds right, unless, of course, the person has also internalized Roxanne’s first two rules.
Roxanne interviewed me because in a previous issue of my newsletter, I defended small talk. I appreciate the mention. But I have one small correction that matters to nothing but my vanity. Roxanne writes: “Weinberger says he didn’t become skilled at making small talk until he was 40…” Not quite. I am still bad at small talk. Those who have met me will attest to the awkward silences and the extended bouts of conversational twitching. What I actually told Roxanne is that until I was in my 40s — embarrassingly late — I had totally the wrong idea about how to talk with people I don’t know. I would talk about something interesting to me instead of trying to find what was interesting to the other person. D’oh. But “skilled at small talk”? Just ask the person whose shoes I’ve been inspecting.
I trust no one who uses the phrase “shut up.” I was sent a quote by Woody Allen, from the local C.C. Dean, with that phrase in it twice, after emails to him regarding my blog.
So, how’s the weather there, David?
I have a gripe! You know, a lot of us are actually curious about how other people see life–who do you think has been buying novels for the past two hundred years? It irks me to realize we normally-nosy-and-friendly people are being mistaken for business types who chat you up to sell you life insurance, or to get you to promote their super-blog-sauce in your super-blog. And I wouldn’t mind if my chit-chat made you like me, instead of making you nervous, but given a choice between getting to know someone a lot better and having that person remain a mystery but like me a lot, I would definitely prefer the former. OK, maybe I just want to know stuff about you so I can make you a super-villain in some future novel I’m writing–I’m not claiming my motivation is noble…
“I’m Gatsby,” he said suddenly.
“What!” I exclaimed. “Oh, I beg your pardon.”
“I thought you knew, old sport. I’m afraid I’m not a very good host.”
He smiled understandingly–much more than understandingly. It was
one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance
in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced–or
seemed to face–the whole external world for an instant, and then
concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It
understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in
you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it
had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to
convey. Precisely at that point it vanished–and I was looking at an
elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate
formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he
introduced himself I’d got a strong impression that he was picking his
words with care.
David, I know you’re a vegetarian, you like to run over PDAs with your car, and you use to have a problem with voltage spikes. Is this talk small enough?
There was a study I saw a few years ago (sorry about my lack of academic vigour) that found that when you ask people about themselves, people report YOU as being “an interesting person” even if they actually know very little about you. But when you talk about yourself, people report the opposite.
Interesting, even if it is a little damning for us bloggers!
There’s no reason why small talk has to pretend to be interested in the other. One of the things I said to Roxanne was that everything is interesting if looked at at the right level of magnification.
And, AKMA, how about them Red Sox, eh?
I’m certainly not talking about pretending to be interested. I’m saying that small talk, where you are asking someone about themselves – sincerely – creates a bond there, to the extent that person you’ve been talking to considers you “interesting.”
I think small talk to pass that feigns interest is off putting.
Sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean to imply that you were saying that small talk has to be insincere. I should have made that clearer. I was instead trying to clarify my initial point, reacting to what I was inferring (perhaps unfairly) from Betsy and Bill.
I have an interesting anecdote on this subject: A friend of mine recently told me that the reason why our friendship developed was that I had great listening skills. The intriguing thing is that I remember doing almost all of the talking when we met and he did most of the listening. What “small talk” and making connections is about isn’t litterally “talking”…it’s caring. It’s looking at someone you meet and understanding that they are just like you in so many ways, some obvious and some not so much. Small talk as we know it (where are you from? what are you studying? what’s your name?) is a very functional way of finding common ground and making the connection that is there, whether we come to see it or not, a little more visible. People who are bad at small talk aren’t the people like David and I, who’s brain’s might appear to have eaten a few too many refried beans, people who are bad at small talk are people who have become too cynical to realize how similar we all are and thus, don’t care to make a connection with you.
Dinner with Judith and Dina
This week’s fascinating impromptu blogger dinner was with Judith Meskill and Dina Mehta .
;-) Funny.
But the last time I was on a panel with you David, you listened so much you didn’t say ANYTHING. So I don’t rule works when you’re on a panel. On the other hand, maybe we should get rid of the old fashioned “panel” thing…
Sorry, did you say something…?
Hi Betsy! Don’t see you on #joiito much these days. Dug up some old limericks including a few of yours. Posted them on my wiki.
The panel was supposed to be on something squishy like “The Power of the Commons” or “Why I Want to give the Net a Big Wet Kiss! Mmmmmmmm!” but it turned into a useful session about SIM cards. Since I spent the first fifteen minutes thinking people were talking about The Sims, I decided not to enter the conversation until I felt I had a contribution worth the breath, which turned out to be, “Hey, thanks for having me. Bye!”
hi im courtney talk to me