The Art of Conversation - Catherine Blyth [74]
What fuels his repulsive force? Speech-act theory explains that statements don’t simply communicate ideas, but are themselves actions with social goals. The trouble with Creep is that his noisy aims drown out his words—primarily, with the slurp of sucking up—often lending his speech an undead quality, as if scripted in advance. And since he equates boosting your esteem of him with boosting your self-esteem, he goes in for vertiginous, stack-heeled compliments that only make you shudder, wondering, “What is he after now?”
As Amy Sedaris said, in conversation there’s no greater compliment than talking to someone who is really “in the moment”—that is, into you, here, now. Regrettably, Creep never imagines you might like him for himself; fatally, he is too condescending to see his objectives ooze transparently from each overegged word. Many politicians exude the same miasma: We know their smile really says, “I want your vote.” Hence we feel like prey. Liked not for ourselves, but as means to their ends.
Tactics: Creep is a vampire, so unless you invite him in, he has no power. Don’t feel obliged to be nice. Say stop if he is embarrassing you.
Pluses: Creep reminds us of the importance of sincerity, style, and engaging with others, not trying to get in with them.
12
SHOP TALK On Conversation as Work
It was a Sunday in April, but the sun was strong and the sky pressed down like a clammy hand. Nobody in the garden felt like networking, and all seemed in need of refreshment—all except the rosy Irishman, draining the last cool glass of champagne.
“Communication is simple,” he said, tapping his head. “All you have to do is get something out of here, and into here,” he added, tapping mine.
He knew what he was talking about; he was an ambassador. But rarely does it seem so simple at work. As for the compulsory socializing: business lunches, Christmas dos . . . And however pleasant our boss, how many of us haven’t felt, as Voltaire did of his sometime patron Frederick the Great, that when he calls you “friend” he means “my slave”?
The social knit of office life is riven with power imbalances and knotty with contradictory demands: to get along and to get ahead; to compete and to cooperate. At worst, fear and loathing make it purgatory, as in Joseph Heller’s novel Something Happened:
In my department, there are six people who are afraid of me and one small secretary who is afraid of all of us. I have one other person working for me who is not afraid of anyone, not even me, and I would fire him quickly, but I’m afraid of him.
At best, it encourages rapport, passion, and imagination—the lifeblood of zestful talk. Nothing can beat conversation for managing the conflict-riveted camaraderie of the workplace. Even when it must be, of necessity, antisocial.
THE CHALLENGE OF SHOPTALK
All communication is hampered by a problem that might be summarized as (pace Donald Rumsfeld): “I don’t know what you don’t know that I don’t know you don’t know.”
Never is this truer than at work, and it is more problematic than in normal conversation, thanks to the social influence we must quietly exert while playing the good professional.
➺ Rule one: Never assume that people understand you
Imbalances of power create imbalances of knowledge, and in professional encounters too often we fail to account for the ignorance or otherwise of the person we’re talking to. Have you ever staggered away from an accountant, lawyer, or surgeon not confused? Had a free and easy exchange with an IT helpline?
Conversely, the less powerful wonder what the powerful are hiding, and tend to second-guess. This compromises the flow of information, sometimes feeding dangerous groupthink, in which a meeting’s cyclonic dynamics ensure that leaders hear only what they want to. Think Iraq, or the calamitous Bay of Pigs invasion, which almost tipped cold into nuclear war.
It may be deliberate: Tony Blair unblushingly expected