The Art of Conversation - Catherine Blyth [49]
Leave it out. They want theater? Let them buy a ticket.
Good conversation is a team sport; pace and energy keep it alive. The poet Shelley captured the giddy joy of high-tempo rallies with Byron:
the swift thought Winging itself with laughter, lingered not, But flew from brain to brain.
And if you want each word to sink in, take a leaf from poetry. Researchers Marc Wittman and Ernst Pöppel have found that our brains prefer data sorted into three-second bundles—be it in music, speech, or poetry. This bias transcends cultural differences:
Experiments were conducted using poems in different languages that were spoken aloud. Independently of the language, it took the speakers circa three seconds to recite the individual lines.
We’re all suckers for this rhythm. How else to explain the mysterious power of three? “Education, education, education,” cried the politician. “Love, love, love,” chorused the Beatles . . .
Better, then, to ditch three-minute declamation for three-second sound bites.
LONG TIME, NO SEE
The old friend is an old friend for a reason. You know, she knows, but it’s impossible to ignore her without offense. For a nippy, packaged small-talk getaway, turn to Aristotle, who argued that stories have a beginning, middle, and end. Equally, a catch-up conversation will gallop by if structured to deal first with the past, the present, then future plans, a strategy that also creates a natural exit.
For example:
➺ Rule three: Take turns
Your listener remains unresponsive? Dispirited as you may feel, don’t give up.
Note the Latin conversare means “to turn around often.” Sharing is the core social principle, and most people like talking about themselves, so unpack your conversational tool kit to help him join in. Frame questions to offer scope to roam on to other subjects (not “Do you like chocolate?” but “Can you believe cocoa is a health food?”). Equally, when—if—you’re asked a question, supply an answer they can mine, don’t bat it straight back. That’s not playing the game.
I know a diplomat’s son whose childhood was awash with insipid drinks parties. He and his siblings survived the small talk by setting challenges (odd words to weave into conversation, e.g., lecithin, penguins, telescope, fanny). Today he’s ace at converting questions into questions, flicking on the conversational ball. Finding out what he thinks, on the other hand, is like catching eels with chopsticks. Sometimes it’s tiring. But still, at least he acts interested in me. There are superbores, invariably male, capable of consuming five courses without asking any questions of their companions, usually long-suffering females. (Traveling alone, especially by air, pack earplugs.)
➺ Rule four: Act interested to be interested
How we behave contains numerous instructions as to how others should treat us, so one of the most effective tactics against boredom is refusing to acknowledge it.
This applies both when bored and when you suspect you’re at fault. At a friend’s birthday I met a man who, when I excused myself (nature called) said mournfully, “I’m very boring.” At once I believed him, even as I loudly disagreed, then had to wait five minutes before dashing to the loo. Worse, till that self-pitying moment, I’d liked him.
If ever tempted to say “I’m boring you” take this as a warning from your subconscious and say good-bye instead. And remember, to be bored or boring isn’t affable. Often it is the bored person’s fault: a failure to engage with the other person’s point of view. In that frowning toad may crouch a prince, so give him the benefit of the doubt and smile encouragingly.
Perhaps the most important revelation of the Tedium Index (above) is that the intensity of a listener’s engagement materially alters the value of what is said. The more interest you bring to conversation, the more interesting it will be. Even if you fake it.
Why bother? Enthusiasm—originally, Greek for “possessed by god”—kindles