Just as the first glimpse should please their eyes, your first words should
delight their ears. Your tongue is a welcome mat embossed with either
‘Welcome’ or ‘Go Away!’ To make your Conversation Partner feel
welcome, you must master small talk.
Small talk! Can you hear the shudder? Those two little words drive a
stake into the hearts of some otherwise fearless and undaunted souls. Invite
them to a party where they don’t know anyone, and it mainlines queasiness
into their veins.
If this sounds familiar, take consolation from the fact that the brighter the
individual, the more he or she detests small talk. When consulting for
Fortune 500 companies, I was astounded. Top executives, completely
comfortable making big talk with their boards of directors or addressing
their stockholders, confessed they felt like little lost children at parties
where the pratter was less than prodigious.
Small-talk haters, take further consolation from the fact that you are in
star-studded company. Fear of small talk and stage fright are the same thing.
The butterflies you feel in your stomach when you’re in a roomful of
strangers flutter around the tummies of top performers. Pablo Casals
complained of lifelong stage fright. Carly Simon curtailed live
performances because of it. A friend of mine who worked with Neil
Diamond said he insisted the words to ‘Song Sung Blue,’ a tune he’d been
crooning for forty years, be displayed on his teleprompter, lest fear freeze
him into forgetfulness.
Is small-talk-o-phobia curable?
Someday, scientists say, communications fears may be treatable with drugs.
They’re already experimenting with Prozac to change people’s
personalities. But some fear disastrous side effects. The good news is that
when human beings think, and genuinely feel, certain emotions – like
confidence they have specific techniques to fall back on – the brain
manufactures its own antidotes. If fear and distaste of small talk is the
disease, knowing solid techniques like the ones we explore in this section is
the cure.
Incidentally, science is beginning to recognize it’s not chance or even
upbringing that one person has a belly of butterflies and another doesn’t. In
our brains, neurons communicate through chemicals called
neurotransmitters. Some people have excessive levels of a neurotransmitter
called norepinephrine, a chemical cousin of adrenaline. For some children,
just walking into a kindergarten room makes them want to run and hide
under a table.
As a tot, I spent a lot of time under the table. As a pre-teen in an all-girls
boarding school, my legs turned to spaghetti every time I had to converse
with a male. In high school, I once had to invite a boy to our school prom.
The entire selection of dancing males lived in the dormitory of our brother
school. And I only knew one resident, Eugene. I had met Eugene at summer
camp the year before. Mustering all my courage, I decided to call him.
Two weeks before the dance, I felt the onset of sweaty palms. I put the
call off. One week before, rapid heartbeat set in. I put the call off. Finally,
three days before the big bash, breathing became difficult. Time was
running out.
The critical moment, I rationalized, would be easier if I read from a
script. I wrote out the following: ‘Hi, this is Leil. We met at camp last
summer. Remember?’ (I programmed in a pause where I hoped he would
say yes.) ‘Well, National Cathedral School’s prom is this Saturday night and
I’d like you to be my date.’ (I programmed in another pause where I prayed
he’d say yes.)
On Thursday before the dance, I could no longer delay the inevitable. I
picked up the receiver and dialled. Clutching the phone waiting for Eugene
to answer, my eyes followed perspiration droplets rolling down my arm and
dripping off my elbow. A small salty puddle was forming around my feet.
‘Hello?’ a sexy, deep male voice answered the dorm phone.
In faster-than-a-speeding-bullet voice, like a nervous novice telemarketer,
I shot out, ‘Hi, this is Leil. We-met-at-camp – last-summer-remember?’
Forgetting to pause for his assent, I raced on, ‘Well-National-CathedralSchool’s-prom-is-this-Saturday-night-and-I’d-like-you-to-be-my-date.’
To my relief and delight, I heard a big, cheerful ‘Oh that’s great, I’d love
to!’ I exhaled my first normal breath all day. He continued, ‘I’ll pick you up
at the girl’s dorm at seven thirty. I’ll have a pink carnation for you. Will that
go with your dress? And my name is Donnie.’
Donnie? Donnie! Who said anything about Donnie?
Well, Donnie turned out to be the best date I had that decade. Donnie had
buckteeth, a head full of tousled red hair, and communications skills that
immediately put me at ease.
On Saturday night, Donnie greeted me at the door, carnation in hand and
grin on face. He joked self-deprecatingly about how he was dying to go to
the prom so, knowing it was a case of mistaken identity, he accepted
anyway. He told me he was thrilled when ‘the girl with the lovely voice’
called, and he took full responsibility for ‘tricking’ me into an invitation.
Donnie made me comfortable and confident as we chatted. First we made
small talk and then he gradually led me into subjects I was interested in. I
flipped over Donnie, and he became my very first boyfriend.
Donnie instinctively had the small-talk skills that we are now going to
fashion into techniques to help you glide through small talk like a hot knife
through butter. When you master them, you will be able, like Donnie, to
melt the heart of everyone you touch.
The goal of How to Talk to Anyone is not, of course, to make you a smalltalk whiz and stop there. The aim is to make you a dynamic
conversationalist and forceful communicator. However, small talk is the
first crucial step toward that goal.
How to start a conversation without strangling it
You’ve been there. You’re introduced to someone at a party or business
meeting. You shake hands, your eyes meet … and suddenly your entire
body of knowledge dries up and thought processes come to a screeching
halt. You fish for a topic to fill the awkward silence. Failing, your new
contact slips away in the direction of the cheese tray.
We want the first words falling from our lips to be sparkling, witty,
insightful. We want our listeners to immediately recognize how riveting we
are. I was once at a gathering where everybody was sparkling, witty,
insightful, and riveting. It drove me berserk because most of these same
everybodies felt they had to prove it in their first ten words or less!
Several years ago, the Mensa organization, a social group of extremely
bright individuals who score in the country’s top 2 per cent in intelligence,
invited me to be a keynote speaker at their annual convention. Their
cocktail party was in full swing in the lobby of the hotel as I arrived. After
checking in, I hauled my bags through the hoard of happy-hour Mensans to
the lift. The doors separated and I stepped into a lift packed with party
goers. As we began the journey up to our respective floors, the lift gave
several sleepy jerks.
‘Hmm,’ I remarked, in response to the lift’s sluggishness, ‘the lift seems
a little flaky.’ Suddenly, each elevator occupant, feeling compelled to
exhibit his or her 132-plus IQ, pounced forth with a thunderous explanation.
‘It’s obviously got poor rail-guide alignment,’ announced one. ‘The relay
contact is not made up,’ declared another. Suddenly I felt like a grasshopper
trapped in a stereo speaker. I couldn’t wait to escape the attack of the
mental giants.
Afterward, in the solitude of my room, I thought back and reflected that
the Mensan’s answers were, indeed, interesting. Why then did I have an
adverse reaction?
I realized it was too much, too soon. I was tired. Their high energy and
intensity jarred my sluggish state.
You see, small talk is not about facts or words. It’s about music, about
melody. Small talk is about putting people at ease. It’s about making
comforting noises together like cats purring, children humming, or groups
chanting. You must first match your listener’s mood.
Like repeating the note on the music teacher’s harmonica, Top
Communicators pick up on their listener’s tone of voice and duplicate it.
Instead of jumping in with such intensity, the Mensans could have
momentarily matched my lethargic mood by saying, ‘Yes, it is slow, isn’t
it?’ Had they then prefaced their information with, ‘Have you ever been
curious why an elevator is slow?’ I would have responded with a sincere
‘Yes, I have.’ After a moment of equalized energy levels, I would have
welcomed their explanations about the rail-guard alignment or whatever the
heck it was. And friendships might have started.
I’m sure you’ve suffered the aggression of a mood mismatch. Have you
ever been relaxing when some overexcited hot-breathed colleague starts
pounding you with questions? Or the reverse: you’re late, rushing to a
meeting, when an associate stops you and starts lazily narrating a long,
languorous story. No matter how interesting the tale, you don’t want to hear
it now.
The first step in starting a conversation without strangling it is to match
your listener’s mood, if only for a sentence or two. When it comes to small
talk, think music, not words. Is your listener adagio or allegro? Match that
pace. I call it making a Mood Match.
Matching the mood can make or break the sale
Matching customers’ moods is crucial for salespeople. Some years ago, I
decided to throw a surprise party for my best friend Stella. It was going to
be a triple-whammy party because she was celebrating three events. One, it
was Stella’s birthday. Two, she was newly engaged. And three, Stella had
just landed her dream job. She had been my buddy since our school days
and I was floating on air over her birthday-engagement-congratulations
bash.
I had heard one of the best French restaurants in town had an attractive
back room for parties. About 5 P.M. one afternoon, I wafted happily into the
restaurant and found the seated maitre d’ languidly looking over his
reservation book. I began excitedly babbling about Stella’s triple-whammy
celebration and asked to see that fabulous back room I’d heard so much
about. Without a smile or moving a muscle, he said, ‘Zee room ees een zee
back. You can go zee eet eef you like.’
CRASH. What a party pooper! His morose mood kicked all the party
spirit out of me, and I no longer wanted to rent his stupid space. Before I
even looked at the room, he lost the rental. I left his restaurant vowing to
find a place where the management would at least appear to share the joy
of the happy occasion.
Every mother knows this instinctively. To quiet a whimpering infant,
mama doesn’t just shake her finger and shout, ‘Quiet down.’ No, mama
picks baby up. Mama cries, ‘Ooh, ooh, oh,’ sympathetically matching
baby’s misery for a few moments. Mama then gradually transitions the two
of them into hush-hush happy sounds. Your listeners are all big babies!
Match their mood if you want them to stop crying, start buying, or come
around to your way of thinking.
Technique 10:
Make a mood match
Before opening your mouth, take a ‘voice sample’ of your listener to
detect his or her state of mind. Take a ‘psychic photograph’ of the
expression to see if your listener looks buoyant, bored, or blitzed. If
you ever want to bring people around to your thoughts, you must match
their mood and voice tone, if only for a moment.
‘What’s a good opening line when I meet people?’
I was once at a party where I spotted a fellow surrounded by a fan club of
avid listeners. The chap was smiling, gesticulating, obviously enthralling
his audience. I went over to hearken to this fascinating speaker. I joined his
throng of admirers and eavesdropped for a minute or two. Suddenly, it
dawned on me: the fellow was saying the most banal things! His script was
dull, dull, dull. Ah, but he was delivering his prosaic observations with such
passion. Therefore, he held the group spellbound. It convinced me that it’s
not all what you say, it’s how you say it.
Often people ask me, ‘What’s a good opening line when I meet people?’
I give them the same answer a woman who once worked in my office
always gave me. Dottie often stayed at her desk to work through lunch.
Sometimes, as I was leaving for the sandwich shop, I’d ask her, ‘Hey
Dottie, what can I bring you back for lunch?’
Dottie, trying to be obliging, would say, ‘Oh anything is fine with me.’
‘No, Dottie!’ I wanted to scream. ‘Tell me what you want. Ham and
cheese? Chicken Salad with mayonnaise? Peanut butter with sliced
bananas? Be specific. Anything is a hassle.’
Frustrating though it may be, my answer to the opening-line question is
‘Anything!’ because almost anything you say really is OK – as long as it
puts people at ease and sounds passionate.
How do you put people at ease? By convincing them they are OK and
that the two of you are similar. When you do that, you break down walls of
fear, suspicion, and mistrust.
Why banal makes a bond
Samuel I. Hayakawa was a college president, U.S. senator, and brilliant
linguistic analyst of Japanese origin. He tells us this story that shows the
value of, as he says, ‘unoriginal remarks.’11
In early 1942, a few weeks after the beginning of World War II – at a
time when there were rumours of Japanese spies – Hayakawa had to wait
several hours in a railroad station in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. He noticed others
waiting in the station were staring at him suspiciously. Because of the war,
they were apprehensive about his presence. He later wrote, ‘One couple
with a small child was staring with special uneasiness and whispering to
each other.’
So what did Hayakawa do? He made unoriginal remarks to set them at
ease. He said to the husband that it was too bad the train should be late on
so cold a night.
The man agreed.
‘I went on,’ Hayakawa wrote, ‘to remark that it must be especially
difficult to travel with a small child in winter when train schedules were so
uncertain. Again the husband agreed. I then asked the child’s age and
remarked that their child looked very big and strong for his age. Again
agreement, this time with a slight smile. The tension was relaxing.
After two or three more exchanges, the man asked Hayakawa, ‘I hope
you don’t mind my bringing it up, but you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Do you
think the Japs have any chance of winning this war?’
‘Well,’ Hayakawa replied, ‘your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know
any more than I read in the papers. But the way I figure it, I don’t see how
the Japanese, with their lack of coal and steel and oil … can ever beat a
powerfully industrialized nation like the United States.’
Hayakawa went on, ‘My remark was admittedly neither original nor well
informed. Hundreds of radio commentators … were saying much the same
thing during those weeks. But just because they were, the remark sounded
familiar and was on the right side so that it was easy to agree with.’
The Wisconsin man agreed at once with what seemed like genuine relief.
His next remark was, ‘Say, I hope your folks aren’t over there while the war
is going on.’
‘Yes, they are,’ Hayakawa replied. ‘My father and mother and two young
sisters are over there.’
‘Do you ever hear from them?’ the man asked.
‘How can I?’ Hayakawa answered.
Both the man and his wife looked troubled and sympathetic. ‘Do you
mean you won’t be able to see them or hear from them until after the war is
over?’
There was more to the conversation but the result was, within ten minutes
they had invited Hayakawa – whom they initially may have suspected was a
Japanese spy – to visit them sometime in their city and have dinner in their
home. And all because of this brilliant scholar’s admittedly common and
unoriginal small talk. Top Communicators know the most soothing and
appropriate first words should be, like Senator Hayakawa’s, unoriginal,
even banal. But not indifferent. Hayakawa delivered his sentiments with
sincerity and passion.
Ascent from banality
There is no need, of course, to stay with mundane remarks. If you find your
company displays cleverness or wit, you match that. The conversation then
escalates naturally, compatibly. Don’t rush it or, like the Mensans, you seem
like you’re showing off. The bottom line on your first words is to have the
courage of your own triteness. Because, remember, people tune in to your
tone more than your text.
Technique 11:
Prosaic with passion
Worried about your first words? Fear not, since 80 percent of your
listener’s impression has nothing to do with your words anyway.
Almost anything you say at first is fine. No matter how prosaic the text,
an empathetic mood, a positive demeanour, and passionate delivery
make you sound exciting.
‘Anything, except liverwurst!’
Back to Dottie waiting for her sandwich at her desk. Sometimes as I walked
out the door scratching my head wondering what to bring her, she’d call
after me, ‘Anything, except liverwurst, that is.’ Thanks, Dottie, that’s a little
bit of help.
Here’s my ‘anything, except liverwurst’ on small talk. Anything you say
is fine as long as it is not complaining, rude, or unpleasant. If the first words
out of your mouth are a complaint, BLAM, people label you a complainer.
Why? Because that complaint is your new acquaintance’s 100 per cent
sampling of you so far. You could be the happiest Pollyanna ever, but how
will they know? If your first comment is a complaint, you’re a griper. If
your first words are rude, you’re a creep. If your first words are unpleasant,
you’re a stinker. Open and shut.
Other than these downers, anything goes. Ask them where they’re from,
how they know the host of the party, where they bought the lovely suit
they’re wearing – or hundreds of etceteras. The trick is to ask your prosaic
question with passion to get the other person talking.
Still feel a bit shaky on making the approach to strangers? Let’s take a
quick detour on our road to meaningful communicating. I’ll give you three
quickie techniques to meet people at parties – then nine more to make small
talk not so small.
What’s a Whatzit?
Singles proficient at meeting potential sweethearts without the benefit of
introduction (in the vernacular, making a ‘pickup’), have developed a
deliciously devious technique that works equally well for social or
corporate networking purposes. The technique requires no exceptional skill
on your part, only the courage to sport a simple visual prop called a
Whatzit.
What’s a Whatzit? A Whatzit is anything you wear or carry that is
unusual – a unique pin, an interesting purse, a strange tie, an amusing hat. A
Whatzit is any object that draws people’s attention and inspires them to
approach you and ask, ‘Uh, what’s that?’ Your Whatzit can be as subtle or
overt as your personality and the occasion permit.
I wear around my neck an outmoded pair of glasses that resembles a
double monocle. Often the curious have approached me at a gathering and
asked, ‘Whatzit?’ I explain it’s a lorgnette left to me by my grandmother,
which, of course, paves the way to discuss hatred of glasses, ageing eyes,
love or loss of grandmothers, adoration of antique jewellery – any way the
inquisitor wants to take it.
Perhaps, unknowingly, you have fallen prey to this soon-to-be-legendary
technique. At a gathering, have you ever noticed someone you would like to
talk to? Then you’ve racked your brain to conjure an excuse to make the
approach. What a bounty it was to discover that he or she was wearing
some weird, wild, or wonderful something you could comment on.
The Whatzit way to love
Your Whatzit is a social aid whether you seek business rewards or new
romance. I have a friend, Alexander, who carries Greek worry beads with
him wherever he goes. He’s not worried. He knows any woman who wants
to talk to him will come up and say, ‘What’s that?’
Think about it, gentlemen. Suppose you’re at a party. An attractive
woman spots you across the room. She wants to talk to you but she’s
thinking, ‘Well, Mister, you’re attractive. But, golly, what can I say to you?
You just ain’t got no Whatzit.’
Be a Whatzit seeker, too
Likewise, become proficient in scrutinizing the apparel of those you wish to
approach. Why not express interest in the handkerchief in the tycoon’s vest
pocket, the brooch on the bosom of the rich divorcée, or the school ring on
the finger of the Director whose company you want to work for?
The big spender who, you suspect, might buy a hundred of your widgets
has a tiny golf-club lapel pin? Say, ‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice
your attractive lapel pin. Are you a golfer? Me, too. What courses have you
played?’
Your business cards and your Whatzit are crucial socializing artifacts.
Whether you are riding in the elevator, climbing the doorstep, or traversing
the path to the party, make sure your Whatzit is hanging out for all to see.
Technique 12:
Always wear a Whatzit
Whenever you go to a gathering, wear or carry something unusual to
give people who find you the delightful stranger across the crowded
room an excuse to approach. ‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice
your … what IS that?’
The next quickie technique was originated by doggedly determined
politicians who don’t let one partygoer escape if they think he or she could
be helpful to their campaigns. I call it the Whoozat technique.
What to do when he’s got no Whatzit
Say you have scrutinized the body of the important business contact you
want to meet. You’ve searched in vain from the tip of his cowlick to the
toes of his boots. He’s not sporting a single Whatzit.
If you strike out on finding something to comment on, resort to the
Whoozat technique. Like a persistent politician, go to the party giver and
say, ‘That man/woman over there looks interesting. Who is he/she?’ Then
ask for an introduction. Don’t be hesitant. The party giver will be pleased
you find one of the guests interesting.
If, however, you are loathe to pull the party giver away from his or her
other guests, you still can perform Whoozat. This time, don’t ask for a
formal introduction. Simply pump the party giver for just enough
information to launch you. Find out about the stranger’s jobs, interests,
hobbies.
Suppose the party giver says, ‘Oh, that’s Joe Smith. I’m not sure what his
job is, but I know he loves to ski.’ Aha, you’ve just been given the
icebreaker you need. Now you make a beeline for Joe Smith. ‘Hi, you’re
Joe Smith, aren’t you? Susan was just telling me what a great skier you are.
Where do you ski?’ You get the idea.
Technique 13:
Whoozat?
Whoozat is the most effective, least used (by nonpoliticians) meetingpeople device ever contrived. Simply ask the party giver to make the
introduction, or pump for a few facts that you can immediately turn
into icebreakers.
Now the third in our little trio of meeting-who-you-want tricks.
‘I just thought I’d eavesdrop in and say “hello”’
The woman you’ve decided you MUST meet is wearing no Whatzit? Can’t
find the host for the Whoozat technique? To make matters worse, she’s deep
in conversation with a group of her friends. Seems quite hopeless that you
will manoeuvre a meeting, doesn’t it?
No obstacle blocks the resolute politician, who always has a trick or ten
up his or her sleeve. A politico would resort to the Eavesdrop In technique.
Eavesdropping, of course, conjures images of clandestine activities – wire
tapping, Watergate break-ins, spies skulking around in the murky shadows.
Eavesdropping has historical precedent with politicians so, in a pinch, it
comes naturally to mind.
At parties, stand near the group of people you wish to infiltrate. Then
wait for a word or two you can use as a wedge to break into the group.
‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing that you …’ and then whatever is
relevant here. For example ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion of
Bermuda. I’m going there next month for the first time. Any suggestions?’
Now you are in the circle and can direct your comments to your intended.
Technique 14:
Eavesdrop in
No Whatzit? No host for Whoozat? No problem! Just sidle up behind
the swarm of folks you want to infiltrate and open your ears. Wait for
any flimsy excuse and jump in with ‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help but
overhear …’
Will they be taken aback? Momentarily.
Will they get over it? Momentarily.
Will you be in the conversation? Absolutely!
Let us now hop back on the train that first explored Small Talk City and
travel to the land of Meaningful Communicating.
Don’t drop a frozen steak on their platter
You wouldn’t dream of going to a party naked. And I hope you wouldn’t
dream of letting your conversation be exposed naked and defenceless
against the two inevitable assaults ‘Where are you from?’ and ‘What do you
do?’
When asked these questions, most people, like clunking a frozen steak on
a china platter, drop a brick of frozen geography or baffling job title on the
asker’s conversational platter. Then they slap on the muzzle.
You’re at a convention. Everyone you meet will, of course, ask ‘And
where are you from?’ When you give them the short-form naked-city
answer ‘Oh, I’m from Muscatine, Iowa’ (or Millinocket, Maine;
Winnemucca, Nevada; or anywhere they haven’t heard of), what can you
expect except a blank stare? Even if you’re a relatively big-city slicker from
Denver, Colorado; Detroit, Michigan; or San Diego, California, you’ll
receive a panicked look from all but American history professors. They’re
rapidly racking their brains thinking ‘What do I say next?’ Even the names
of world-class burgs like New York, London, Paris, and Los Angeles
inspire less-than-riveting responses. When I tell people I’m from New York
City, what are they expected to say? ‘Duh, seen any good muggings lately?’
Do humanity and yourself a favour. Never, ever, give just a one-sentence
response to the question, ‘Where are you from?’ Give the asker some fuel
for his tank, some fodder for his trough. Give the hungry communicator
something to conversationally nibble on. All it takes is an extra sentence or
two about your city – some interesting fact, some witty observation – to
hook the asker into the conversation.
Several months ago, a trade association invited me to be its keynote
speaker on networking and teaching people to be better conversationalists.
Just before my speech, I was introduced to Mrs Devlin, who was the head
of the association.
‘How do you do?’ she asked.
‘How do you do?’ I replied.
Then Mrs. Devlin smiled, anxiously awaiting a sample of my stimulating
conversational expertise. I asked her where she was from. She plunked a
frozen ‘Columbus, Ohio’ and a big expectant grin on my platter. I had to
quickly thaw her answer into digestible conversation. My mind thrashed
into action. Leil’s thought pattern: ‘Gulp, Columbus, Ohio. I’ve never been
there, hmm. Criminy, what do I know about Columbus? I know a fellow
named Jeff, a successful speaker who lives there. But Columbus is too big
to ask if she knows him … and besides only kids play the “Do-you-knowso-and-so” game.’ My panicked silent search continued. ‘I think it’s named
after Christopher Columbus … but I’m not sure, so I better keep my mouth
shut on that one.’ Four or five other possibilities raced through my mind
but I rejected them all as too obvious, too adolescent, or too off-the-wall.
I realized by now that seconds had passed, and Mrs Devlin was still
standing there with a slowly dissipating smile on her face. She was waiting
for me (the ‘expert’ who, within the hour, was expected to teach her trade
association lessons on scintillating conversation) to spew forth words of wit
or wisdom.
‘Oh, Columbus, gee,’ I mumbled in desperation, watching her face fall
into the worried expression of a patient being asked by the surgeon, knife
poised in hand, ‘Where’s your appendix?’
I never came up with stimulating conversation on Columbus. But, just
then, under the knife, I created the following technique for posterity. I call it
Never the Naked City.
Technique 15:
Never the naked city
Whenever someone asks you the inevitable, ‘And where are you
from?’ never, ever, unfairly challenge their powers of imagination with
a one-word answer.
Learn some engaging facts about your hometown that
Conversational Partners can comment on. Then, when they say
something clever in response to your bait, they think you’re a great
conversationalist.
Different bait for shrimp or sharks
A fisherman uses different bait to bag bass or bluefish. And you will
obviously throw out different conversational bait to snag simple shrimp or
sophisticated sharks. Your hook should relate to the type of person you’re
speaking with. I’m originally from Washington, D.C. If someone at, say, an
art gallery asked me where I was from, I might answer ‘Washington, D.C. –
designed, you know, by the same city planner who designed Paris.’ This
opens the conversational possibilities to the artistry of city planning, Paris,
other cities’ plans, European travel, and so forth.
At a social party of singles I’d opt for another answer. ‘I’m from
Washington, D.C. The reason I left is there were seven women to every man
when I was growing up.’ Now the conversation can turn to the ecstasy or
agony of being single, the perceived lack of desirable men everywhere,
even flirtatious possibilities.
In a political group, I’d cast a current fact from the constantly evolving
political face of Washington. No need to speculate on the multitude of
conversational possibilities that unlocks.
Where do you get your conversational bait? Start by phoning the
chamber of commerce or historical society of your town. Search the World
Wide Web and click on your town, or open an old-fashioned encyclopedia –
all rich sources for future stimulating conversations. Learn some history,
geography, business statistics, or perhaps a few fun facts to tickle future
friends’ funny bones.
The Devlin debacle inspired further research. The minute I got home, I
called the Columbus Chamber of Commerce and the historical society. Say
you, too, are from Columbus, Ohio, and your new acquaintance lays it on
you: ‘Where are you from?’ When you are talking with a businessperson,
your answer could be, ‘I’m from Columbus, Ohio. You know many major
corporations do their product testing in Columbus because it’s so
commercially typical. In fact, it’s been called ‘the most American city in
America.’ They say if it booms or bombs in Columbus, it booms or bombs
nationally.’
Talking with someone with a German last name? Tell her about
Columbus’s historic German Village with the brick streets and the
wonderful 1850s-style little houses. It’s bound to inspire stories of the old
country. Your Conversation Partner’s surname is Italian? Tell him Genoa,
Italy, is Columbus’s sister city.
Talking with an American history buff? Tell him that Columbus was,
indeed, named after Christopher Columbus and that a replica of the Santa
Maria is anchored in the Scioto River. Talking with a student? Tell her
about the five universities in Columbus.
The possibilities continue. You suspect your Conversation Partner has an
artistic bent? ‘Ah,’ you throw out casually, ‘Columbus is the home of artist
George Bellows.’
Columbusites, prepare some tasty snacks for askers even if you know
nothing about them. Here’s a goodie. Tell them you always have to say
‘Columbus, Ohio ’ because in the US there is also a Columbus, Arkansas ;
Columbus, Georgia ; Columbus, Indiana ; Columbus, Kansas ; Columbus,
Kentucky ; Columbus, Mississippi ; Columbus, Montana ; Columbus,
Nebraska ; Columbus, New Jersey ; Columbus, New Mexico ; Columbus,
North Carolina ; Columbus, North Dakota ; Columbus, Pennsylvania ;
Columbus, Texas ; and Columbus, Wisconsin. That spreads the
conversational possibilities to fifteen other states. Remember, as a quotable
notable once said, ‘No man would listen to you talk if he didn’t know it was
his turn next.’
A postscript to the hellish experience I had with Columbus. Months later,
I mentioned the trauma to my speaker friend from Columbus, Jeff. Jeff
explained his house was really in a smaller town just minutes outside
Columbus.
‘What town, Jeff?’
‘Gahanna, Ohio. Gahanna means “hell” in Hebrew,’ he said, and then
went on to explain why he thought ancient Hebrew historians were
clairvoyant.
Thanks, Jeff, I knew you’d never lay a naked city on any of your
listeners.
Answering the inevitable
Third only to death and taxes is the assurance a new acquaintance will soon
chirp, ‘And what do you do?’ (Is it fitting and proper they should make that
query? We’ll pick up that sticky wicket later.) For the moment, these few
defensive moves help you keep your crackerjack communicator credentials
when asked the inevitable.
First, like Never the Naked City, don’t toss a short-shrift answer in
response to the asker’s breathless inquiry. You leave the poor fish flopping
on the deck when you just say your title: I’m an actuary, an auditor, an
author, an astrophysicist. Have mercy so he or she doesn’t feel like a
nincompoop outsider asking, ‘What, er, kind of actuizing (auditing,
authoring, or astrophysizing) do you do?’
You’re a lawyer. Don’t leave it to laymen to try to figure out what you
really do. Flesh it out. Tell a little story your Conversation Partner can get a
handle on. For example, if you’re talking with a young mother say, ‘I’m a
lawyer. Our firm specializes in employment law. In fact, now I’m involved
in a case where a company actually discharged a woman for taking extra
maternity leave that was a medical necessity.’ A mother can relate to that.
Talking with a business owner? Say ‘I’m a lawyer. Our firm specializes
in employment law. My current case concerns an employer who is being
sued by one of her staff for asking personal questions during the initial job
interview.’ A business owner can relate to that.Technique 16:
Never the naked job
When asked the inevitable ‘And what do YOU do,’ you may think ‘I’m
an economist,’ ‘an educator,’ ‘an engineer’ is giving enough
information to engender good conversation. However, to one who is
not an economist, educator, or an engineer, you might as well be saying
‘I’m a paleontologist,’ ‘psychoanalyst,’ or ‘pornographer.’
Flesh it out. Throw out some delicious facts about your job for new
acquaintances to munch on. Otherwise, they’ll soon excuse themselves,
preferring the snacks back at the cheese tray.
Painful memories of naked job flashers
I still harbour painful recollections of being tongue-tied when confronted by
naked job flashers. Like the time a fellow at a dinner party told me, ‘I’m a
nuclear scientist.’ My weak ‘Oh, that must be fascinating’ reduced me to a
mental molecule in his eyes.
The chap on my other side announced, ‘I’m in industrial abrasives,’ and
then paused, waiting for me to be impressed. My ‘Well, er, golly, you must
have to be a shrewd judge of character to be in industrial abrasives’ didn’t
fly either. We three sat in silence for the rest of the meal.
Just last month a new acquaintance bragged, ‘I’m planning to teach
Tibetan Buddhism at Truckee Meadows Community College,’ and then
clammed up. I knew less about Truckee Meadows than I did about Tibetan
Buddhism. Whenever people ask you what you do, give them some mouthto-ear resuscitation so they can catch their breath and say something.
Help newlymets through their first moments
‘Susan, I’d like you to meet John Smith. John, this is Susan Jones.’ Duh,
what do you expect John and Susan to say?
‘Smith? Umm, that’s S-M-I-T-H, isn’t it?’
‘Uh, er, golly, Susan, well, now, there’s an interesting name.’
Nice-try-forget-it. Don’t blame John or Susan for being less than
scintillating. The fault lies with the person who introduced the two the way
most people introduce their friends to each other – with naked names. They
cast out a line with no bait for people to sink their teeth into.
Big Winners may not talk a lot, but conversation never dies unwillingly
in their midst. They make sure of it with techniques like Never the Naked
Introduction. When they introduce people, they buy an insurance policy on
the conversation with a few simple add-ons: ‘Susan, I’d like you to meet
John. John has a wonderful boat we took a trip on last summer. John, this is
Susan Smith. Susan is editor-in-chief of Shoestring Gourmet magazine.’
Padding the introduction gives Susan the opportunity to ask what kind of
boat John has or where the group went. It gives John an opening to discuss
his love of writing. Or of cooking. Or of food. The conversation can then
naturally expand to travel in general, life on boats, past holidays, favourite
recipes, restaurants, budgets, diets, magazines, editorial policy – to infinity.
Technique 17:
Never the naked introduction
When introducing people, don’t throw out an unbaited hook and stand
there grinning like Big Clam, leaving the newlymets to flutter their fins
and fish for a topic. Bait the conversational hook to get them in the
swim of things. Then you’re free to stay or float on to the next
networking opportunity.
If you’re not comfortable mentioning someone’s job during the
introduction, mention their hobby or even a talent. The other day at a
gathering, the hostess introduced a man named Gilbert. She said, ‘Leil, I’d
like you to meet Gilbert. Gilbert’s gift is sculpting. He makes beautiful wax
carvings.’ I remember thinking, gift, now that’s a lovely way to introduce
someone and induce conversation.
Armed with these two personality enhancers, three conversation igniters
and three small extenders, it is time to take a step up the communications
ladder. Let us now rise from small talk and seek the path to more
meaningful dialogue. The next technique is guaranteed to make the
exchange engrossing for your Conversation Partner.
Be a sleuth on their slips of the tongue
Even a well-intentioned husband who might ask his wife while making
love, ‘Is it good for you, too, honey?’ knows not to ask a colleague, ‘Is the
conversation good for you, too?’ Yet he wonders … we all do. With the
following technique, set your mind at rest. You can definitely make the
conversation hot for anyone you speak with. Like my prom date, Donnie,
you will miraculously find subjects to engross your listeners. No matter
how elusive the clue, Sherlock Holmes is confident he’ll soon be staring
right at it through his magnifying glass. Like the unerring detective, Big
Winners know, no matter how elusive the clue, they’ll find the right topic.
How? They become word detectives.
I have a young friend, Nancy, who works in a nursing home. Nancy cares
deeply about the elderly but often grumbles about how crotchety and
laconic some of her patients are. She laments she has difficulty relating to
them.
Nancy told me about one especially cantankerous old woman named Mrs
Otis, whom she could never get to open up to her. ‘One day,’ Nancy
confided, ‘right after all those rainstorms we had last week, just to make
conversation, I remarked to Mrs Otis, “Terrible storms we had last week,
don’t you think?” Well,’ Nancy continued, ‘Mrs Otis practically jumped
down my throat. She said in a snippy voice, “It’s been good for the plants.”’
I asked Nancy how she responded to that.
‘What could I say?’ Nancy answered. ‘The woman was obviously cutting
me off.’
‘Did you ever think to ask Mrs Otis if she liked plants?’
‘Plants?’ Nancy asked.
‘Well, yes,’ I suggested. ‘Mrs Otis brought the subject up.’ I asked Nancy
to do me a favour. ‘Ask her,’ I begged. Nancy resisted, but I persisted. Just
to quiet me down, Nancy promised to ask ‘cantankerous old Mrs Otis’ if
she liked plants.
The next day, a flabbergasted Nancy called me from work. ‘Leil, how did
you know? Not only did Mrs Otis love plants, she told me she’d been
married to a gardener. Today I had a different problem with Mrs Otis. I
couldn’t shut her up! She went on and on about her garden, her husband …’
Top Communicators know ideas don’t come out of nowhere. If Mrs Otis
thought to bring up plants, then she must have some relationship with them.
Furthermore, by mentioning the word, it meant subconsciously she wanted
to talk about plants.
Suppose, for example, instead of responding to Nancy’s comment about
the rain with ‘It’s good for the plants,’ Mrs Otis had said, ‘Because of the
rain, my dog couldn’t go out.’ Nancy could then ask about her dog. Or
suppose she grumbled, ‘It’s bad for my arthritis.’ Can you guess what old
Mrs Otis wants to talk about now?
When talking with anyone, keep your ears open and, like a good
detective, listen for clues. Be on the lookout for any unusual references: any
anomaly, deviation, digression, or invocation of another place, time, person.
Ask about it because it’s the clue to what your Conversation Partner would
really enjoy discussing.
If two people have something in common, when the shared interest
comes up, they jump on it naturally. For example, if someone mentions
playing squash (bird watching or stamp collecting) and the listener shares
that passion, he or she pipes up, ‘Oh, you’re a squasher (or birder or
philatelist), too!’
Here’s the trick: there’s no need to be a squasher, birder, or philatelist to
pipe up with enthusiasm. You can simply Be a Word Detective. When you
pick up on the reference as though it excites you, too, it parlays you into
conversation the stranger thrills to. (The subject may put your feet to sleep,
but that’s another story.)
Technique 18:
Be a word detective
Like a good gumshoe, listen to your Conversation Partner’s every word
for clues to his or her preferred topic. The evidence is bound to slip out.
Then spring on that subject like a sleuth on to a slip of the tongue. Like
Sherlock Holmes, you have the clue to the subject that’s hot for the
other person.
Now that you’ve ignited stimulating conversation, let’s explore a technique
to keep it hot.
Sell yourself with a top sales technique
Several years ago, a girlfriend and I attended a party saturated with a hotchpotch of swellegant folks. Everyone we talked to seemed to lead a nifty life.
Discussing the party afterward, I asked my friend, ‘Diane, of all the exciting
people at the party, who did you enjoy talking to most?’
Without hesitation she said, ‘Oh by far, Dan Smith.’
‘What does Dan do?’ I asked her.
‘Uh, well, I’m not sure,’ she answered.
‘Where does he live?’
‘Uh, I don’t know,’ Diane responded.
‘Well, what is he interested in?’
‘Well, we really didn’t talk about his interests.’
‘Diane,’ I asked, ‘what did you talk about?’
‘Well, I guess we talked mostly about me.’
‘Aha,’ I said to myself. Diane has just rubbed noses with a Big Winner.
As it turns out, I had the pleasure of meeting Big Winner Dan several
months later. Diane’s ignorance about his life piqued my curiosity so I
grilled him for details. As it turns out, Dan lives in Paris, has a beach home
in the south of France, and a mountain home in the Alps. He travels around
the world producing sound and light shows for pyramids and ancient ruins –
and he is an avid hang glider and scuba diver. Does this man have an
interesting life or what? Yet Dan, when meeting Diane, said not one word
about himself.
I told Dan about how pleased Diane was to meet him yet how little she
learned about his life. Dan simply replied, ‘Well, when I meet someone, I
learn so much more if I ask about their life. I always try to turn the spotlight
on the other person.’ Truly confident people often do this. They know they
grow more by listening than talking. Obviously, they also captivate the
talker.
Several months ago at a speaker’s convention, I was talking with a
colleague, Brian Tracy. Brian does a brilliant job of training top
salespeople. He tells his students of a giant spotlight that, when shining on
their product, is not as interesting to the prospect. When salespeople shine
the giant spotlight on the prospect, that’s what makes the sale.
Salespeople, this technique is especially crucial for you. Keep your
Swivelling Spotlight aimed away from you, only lightly on your product,
and most brightly on your buyer. You’ll do a much better job of selling
yourself and your product.
Technique 19:
The swivelling spotlight
When you meet someone, imagine a giant revolving spotlight between
you. When you’re talking, the spotlight is on you. When New Person is
speaking, it’s shining on him or her. If you shine it brightly enough, the
stranger will be blinded to the fact that you have hardly said a word
about yourself. The longer you keep it shining away from you, the
more interesting he or she finds you.
Never be stuck for something to say again
Moments arise, of course, when even conversationalists extraordinaire hit
the wall. Some folks’ monosyllabic grunts leave slim pickings even for
masters of the Be a Word Detective technique.
If you find yourself futilely fanning the embers of a dying conversation
(and if you feel for political reasons or human compassion that the
conversation should continue), here’s a foolproof trick to get the fire
blazing again. I call it Parroting after that beautiful tropical bird that
captures everyone’s heart simply by repeating other people’s words.
Have you ever, puttering around the house, had the TV in the background
tuned to a tennis game? You hear the ball going back and forth over the net
– klink-klunk, klink-klunk, klink … this time you don’t hear the klunk. The
ball didn’t hit the court. What happened? You immediately look up at the
set.
Likewise in conversation, the conversational ball goes back and forth.
First you speak, then your partner speaks, you speak … and so it goes, back
and forth. Each time, through a series of nods and comforting grunts like
‘um hum,’ or ‘umm,’ you let your Conversation Partner know the ball has
landed in your court. It’s your ‘I got it’ signal. Such is the rhythm of
conversation.
‘What do I say next?’
Back to that frightfully familiar moment when it is your turn to speak but
your mind goes blank. Don’t panic. Instead of signaling verbally or
nonverbally that you ‘got it,’ simply repeat, or parrot, the last two or three
words your companion said, in a sympathetic, questioning tone. That
throws the conversational ball right back in your partner’s court.
I have a friend, Phil, who sometimes picks me up at the airport. Usually I
am so exhausted that I rudely fall asleep in the passenger seat, relegating
Phil to nothing more than a chauffeur.
After one especially exhausting trip some years ago, I flung my bags in
his trunk and flopped onto the front seat. As I was dozing off, he mentioned
he’d gone to the theatre the night before. Usually I would have just grunted
and wafted into unconsciousness. However, on this particular trip, I had
learned the Parroting technique and was anxious to try it. ‘Theater?’ I
parroted quizzically.
‘Yes, it was a great show,’ he replied, fully expecting it to be the last
word on the subject before I fell into my usual sleepy stupor.
‘Great show?’ I parroted. Pleasantly surprised by my interest, he said,
‘Yes, it’s a new show by Stephen Sondheim called Sweeney Todd.’
‘Sweeney Todd?’ I again parroted. Now Phil was getting fired up. ‘Yeah,
great music and an unbelievably bizarre story …’
‘Bizarre story?’ I parroted. Well, that’s all Phil needed. For the next half
an hour, Phil told me the show’s story about a London butcher who went
around murdering people. I half dozed, but soon decided his tale of
Sweeney Todd’s cutting off people’s heads was disturbing my sleepy
reverie. So I simply backed up and parroted one of his previous phrases to
get him on another track.
‘You said it had great music?’
That did the trick. For the rest of the forty-five minute trip to my home,
Phil sang me ‘Pretty Women,’ ‘The Best Pies in London,’ and other songs
from Sweeney Todd – much better accompaniment for my demi-nap. I’m
sure, to this day, Phil thinks of that trip as one of the best conversations we
ever had. And all I did was parrot a few of his phrases.
Technique 20:
Parroting
Never be left speechless again. Like a parrot, simply repeat the last few
words your Conversation Partner says. That puts the ball right back in
his or her court, and then all you need to do is listen.
Salespeople, why go on a wild goose chase for a customer’s real
objections when it’s so easy to shake them out of the trees with
Parroting?
Parroting your way to profits
Parroting is also a can opener to pry open people’s real feelings. Star
salespeople use it to get to their prospect’s emotional objections, which they
often don’t even articulate to themselves. A friend of mine, Paul, a used-car
salesman, told me he credits a recent sale of a Lamborghini to Parroting.
Paul was walking around the lot with a prospect and his wife, who had
expressed interest in a ‘sensible car.’ He was showing them every sensible
Chevy and Ford on the lot. As they were looking at one very sensible
family car, Paul asked the husband what he thought of it. ‘Well,’ he mused,
‘I’m not sure this car is right for me.’ Instead of moving on to the next
sensible car, Paul parroted ‘Right for you?’ Paul’s questioning inflection
signaled the prospect that he needed to say more.
‘Well, er, yeah,’ the prospect mumbled. ‘I’m not sure it fits my
personality.’
‘Fits your personality?’ Paul again parroted.
‘You know, maybe I need something a little more sporty.’
‘A little more sporty?’ Paul parroted.
‘Well, those cars over there look a little more sporty.’
Aha! Paul’s parrot had ferreted out which cars to show the customer. As
they walked over toward a Lamborghini on the lot, Paul saw the prospect’s
eyes light up. An hour later, Paul had pocketed a fat commission.
Want to take a rest from talking to save your throat? This next technique
gets your Conversation Partner off and running so all you have to do is
listen (or even sneak off unnoticed as he or she chats congenially away).
‘Tell ’em about the time you …’
Every father smiles when his little tyke beseeches him at bedtime, ‘Daddy,
Daddy, tell me the story again of the three little pigs’ (or the dancing
princesses, or how you and Mummy met). Daddy knows Junior enjoyed the
story so much the first time, he wants to hear it again and again.
Junior inspires the following technique called Encore! which serves two
purposes. Encore! makes a colleague feel like a happy dad, and it’s a great
way to give dying conversation a heart transplant.
I once worked on a ship that had Italian officers and mostly American
passengers. Each week, the deck officers were required to attend the
captain’s cocktail party. After the captain’s address in charmingly broken
English, the officers invariably clumped together yakking it up in Italian.
Needless to say, most of the passengers’ grasp of Italian ended at macaroni,
spaghetti, salami, and pizza.
As cruise director, it fell on my shoulders to get the officers to mingle
with the passengers. My not-so-subtle tactic was to grab one of the officers’
arms and literally drag him over to a smiling throng of expectant
passengers. I would then introduce the officer and pray that either the cat
would release his tongue, or a passenger would come up with a more
original question than ‘Gee, if all you officers are here, who is driving the
boat?’ Never happened. I dreaded the weekly captain’s cocktail party.
One night, sleeping in my cabin, I was awakened by the ship rocking
violently from side to side. I listened and the engines were off. A bad sign. I
grabbed my robe and raced up to the deck. Through the dense fog, I could
barely discern another ship not half a mile from us. Five or six officers were
grasping the starboard guardrail and leaning overboard. I rushed over just in
time to see a man in the moonlight with a bandage over one eye struggling
up our violently rocking ladder. The officers immediately whisked him off
to our ship’s hospital. The engines started again and we were on our way.
The next morning I got the full story. A labourer on the other ship, a
freighter, had been drilling a hole in an engine cylinder. While he was
working, a sharp needle-thin piece of metal shot like a missile into his right
eye. The freighter had no doctor on board so the ship broadcast an
emergency signal.
International sea laws dictate that any ship hearing a distress signal must
respond. Our ship came to the rescue and the seaman, clutching his
bleeding eye, was lowered into a lifeboat that brought him to our ship. Dr
Rossi, our ship’s doctor, was successfully able to remove the needle from
the workman’s eye thus saving his eyesight.
Cut to the next captain’s cocktail party. Once again I was faced with the
familiar challenge of getting officers to mingle and make small talk with the
passengers. I made my weekly trek to the laconic officers’ throng to drag
one or two away and, this time, my hand fell on the arm of the ship’s doctor.
I hauled him over to the nearest group of grinning passengers and
introduced him. I then said, ‘Just last week Dr Rossi saved the eyesight of a
seaman on another ship after a dramatic midnight rescue. Dr Rossi, I’m sure
these folks would love to hear about it.’
It was like a magic wand. To my amazement, it was as though Dr Rossi
was blessed instantly with the tongues of angels. His previously
monosyllabic broken English became thickly accented eloquence. He
recounted the entire story for the growing group of passengers gathering
around him. I left the throng that Dr Rossi enraptured to pull another officer
over to an awaiting audience.
I grabbed the captain’s stripe-covered arm, dragged him over to another
pack of smiling passengers and said, ‘Captain Cafiero, why don’t you tell
these folks about the dramatic midnight rescue you made last week?’ The
cat released Cafiero’s tongue and he was off and running.
Back to the throng to get the first officer for the next group. By now I
knew I had a winner. ‘Signor Salvago, why don’t you tell these folks how
you awakened the captain at midnight last week for the dramatic midnight
rescue?’
By then it was time to go back to extract the ship’s doctor from the first
bevy and take him to his next pack of passengers. It worked even better the
second time. He happily commenced his Encore! for the second audience.
As he chatted away, I raced back to the captain to pull him away for a
second telling with another throng. I felt like the circus juggler who keeps
all the plates spinning on sticks. Just as I got one conversation spinning, I
had to race back to the first speaker to give him a whirl at another audience.
The captain’s cocktail parties were a breeze for me for the rest of the
season. The three officers loved telling the same story of their heroism to
new people every cruise. The only problem was I noticed the stories getting
longer and more elaborate each time. I had to adjust my timing in getting
them to do a repeat performance for the next audience.
Play it again, Sam
Encore! is the word appreciative audiences chant when they want another
song from the singer, another dance from the dancer, another poem from the
poet, and in my case, another storytelling from the officers. Encore! is the
name of the technique you can use to request a repeat story from a prospect,
potential employer, or valued acquaintance. While the two of you are
chatting with a group of people, simply turn to him and say, ‘John, I bet
everyone would love to hear about the time you caught that thirty-pound
striped bass.’ Or, ‘Susan, tell everyone that story you just told me of how
you rescued the kitten from the tree.’ He or she will, of course, demur.
Insist! Your Conversation Partner is secretly loving it. The subtext of your
request is ‘That story of yours was so terrific, I want my other friends to
hear it.’ After all, only crowd pleasers are asked to do an Encore!
Technique 21:
Encore!
The sweetest sound a performer can hear welling up out of the applause
is ‘Encore! Encore! Let’s hear it again!’ The sweetest sound your
Conversation Partner can hear from your lips when you’re talking with
a group of people is ‘Tell them about the time you …’
Whenever you’re at a meeting or party with someone important to
you, think of some stories he or she told you. Choose an appropriate
one from their repertoire that the crowd will enjoy. Then shine the
spotlight by requesting a repeat performance.
One word of warning: make sure the story you request is one in which the
teller shines. No one wants to retell the time they lost the sale, cracked up
the car, or broke up the bar and spent the night in jail. Make sure your
requested Encore! is a positive story where they come out the Big Winner,
not the buffoon.
The next technique deals with sharing some positive stories of your life.
Endearing little flubs?
Often people think when they meet someone they like, they should share a
secret, reveal an intimacy, or make a confession of sorts to show they are
human too. Airing your youthful battle with bed wetting, teeth grinding, or
thumb sucking – or your present struggle with gout or a goitre – supposedly
endears you to the masses.
Well, sometimes it does. One study showed that if someone is above you
in stature, their revealing a foible brings them closer to you.12 The holes in
the bottom of presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson’s shoes charmed a
nation, as did George Bush’s shocking admission that he couldn’t stomach
broccoli.
If you’re on sure footing, say a superstar who wants to become friends
with a fan, go ahead and tell your devotees about the time you were out of
work and penniless. But if you’re not a superstar, better play it safe and
keep the skeletons in the closet until later. People don’t know you well
enough to put your foible in context.
Later in a relationship, telling your new friend you’ve been thrice
married, you got caught shoplifting as a teenager, and you got turned down
for a big job may be no big deal. And that may be the extent of what could
be construed as black marks on an otherwise flawless life of solid
relationships, no misdemeanors, and an impressive professional record. But
very early in a relationship, the instinctive reaction is ‘What else is coming?
If he shares that with me so quickly, what else is he hiding? A closetful of
ex-spouses, a criminal record, walls papered with rejection letters?’ Your
new acquaintance has no way of knowing your confession was a generous
act, a well-intentioned revelation, on your part.
Technique 22:
Ac-cen-tu-ate the pos-i-tive
When first meeting someone, lock your closet door and save your
skeletons for later. You and your new good friend can invite the
skeletons out, have a good laugh, and dance over their bones later in
the relationship. But now’s the time, as the old song says, to ‘ac-cen-tuate the pos-i-tive and elim-i-nate the neg-a-tive.’
So far, in this section, you have found assertive methods for meeting people
and mastering small talk. The next is both an assertive and defensive move
to help spare you that pasty smile we tend to sport when we have no idea
what people are talking about.
Your most important prop
You’ve heard folks whine, ‘I can’t go to the party, I haven’t got a thing to
wear.’ When was the last time you heard, ‘I can’t go to the party, I haven’t
got a thing to say?’
When going to a gathering with great networking possibilities, you
naturally plan your outfit and make sure your shoes will match. And, of
course, you must have just the right tie or correct colour lipstick. You puff
your hair, pack your business cards, and you’re off.
Whoa! Wait a minute. Didn’t you forget the most important thing? What
about the right conversation to enhance your image? Are you actually going
to say anything that comes to mind, or doesn’t, at the moment? You
wouldn’t don the first outfit your groping hand hits in the darkened closet,
so you shouldn’t leave your conversing to the first thought that comes to
mind when facing a group of expectant, smiling faces. You will, of course,
follow your instincts in conversation. But at least be prepared in case
inspiration doesn’t hit.
The best way to assure you’re conversationally in the swing of things is
to listen to a newscast just before you leave. What’s happening right now in
the world – all the fires, floods, air disasters, toppled governments, and
stock market crashes – pulverizes into great conversational fodder, no
matter what crowd you’re circulating in.It is with some embarrassment that I must attribute the following
technique to a businesswoman in the world’s oldest profession. For a
magazine article I was writing, I interviewed one of the savviest operators
in her field, Sidney Biddle Barrows, the famed Mayflower Madam.
Sydney told me she had a house rule when she was in business. All of her
female ‘independent contractors’ were directed to keep up with the daily
news so they could be good conversationalists with their clients. This was
not just Sidney’s whim. Feedback from her employees had revealed that 60
percent of her girls’ work hour was spend in chatting, and only 40 percent
in satisfying the customers’ needs. Thus she instructed them to read the
daily newspaper or listen to a radio broadcast before leaving for an
appointment. Sidney told me when she initiated this rule, her business
increased significantly. Reports came back from her clients complimenting
her on the fascinating women she had working for her. The consummate
businesswoman, Ms Barrows always strove to exceed her customers’
expectations.
Technique 23:
The latest news … don’t leave home without it
The last move to make before leaving for the party – even after you’ve
given yourself final approval in the mirror – is to turn on the radio
news or scan your newspaper. Anything that happened today is good
material. Knowing the big-deal news of the moment is also a defensive
move that rescues you from putting your foot in your mouth by asking
what everybody’s talking about. Foot-in-mouth is not very tasty in
public, especially when it’s surrounded by egg-on-face.
Ready for the big leagues of conversation? Let’s go
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