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Marilyn, heir apparent to the
division director, told me she went
to the break room earlier that day
to get a drink. A few people stood
together chatting. She skirted them
and got out as fast as she could so
they wouldn’t engage her. Then with
a sigh of disgust she said, “If I’m
going to be division director I’ve
got to learn to chat. But, uh! I
hate it!”
Having coached dozens of highly
analytical experts who felt
incompetent at chatting, I assured
her it’s a learned skill—and not all
that hard to learn!
To chat successfully you first have
to adopt one attitude above all
others: curiosity.
Marilyn was skeptical when she heard
this. I asked if she worried that
her curiosity might feel invasive to
others or that she simply wouldn’t
know what to ask. “Both,” she said
with a weary smile.
“Let’s take the first one first,” I
said. “I’m going to guess you’re
less worried about their feeling
invaded than you are about feeling
as if you’re the invader. You aren’t
comfortable when people inquire
about you so you imagine that’s how
others feel, too. Am I close?”
When she said yes, I asked her to
picture those people in the break
room. Did she think they were all
feeling invaded by each other? She
laughed and agreed they seemed to be
enjoying themselves.
“I’m sure they were,” I said. “It’s
important to understand that your
particular aversion is particularly
yours. It’s not universal. It’s like
an allergy. It flares up and affects
you but other people aren’t affected
by it at all.” She related to this
and told me her husband suffers from
a cat allergy but that she loves
cats and misses having them.
“Perfect,” I said. “Then understand
that when you chat, your allergy
might flare up. But you can tolerate
it. And if you get in there and do
it, you’ll actually build up
immunity.”
Then we moved to her second concern:
that she wouldn’t be able to think
of anything to ask. I started again
at the foundation of all chat:
curiosity.
Most people work to find commonality
in their chat. Did you grow up in
the Midwest? Me, too! Did you see
that movie this weekend? Me, too! Do
you have kids? Me, too! The “Me,
too!” moment gets us started on a
subject we can chat about safely.
That’s not bad. It gets things
moving.
The problem is if I grew up in a
city and you grew up on the plains,
or you liked the movie and I hated
it, or your kids are toddlers and
mine are in college, then our
commonality is weak and the chat
will collapse.
What I find effective is to be
curious about our differences. For
example: “Oh, you grew up on the
plains? What was that like?” “Sounds
like you liked the movie. What did
you like about it?” “Wow, your kids
are so little. How are you doing
with work and parenting?”
In each case, I listen for something
that is not familiar to me and I
become an inquisitive learner. I get
curious. And I do this before I
state my position or situation. I
focus on you. Then almost everything
that comes out of your mouth is
interesting because I don’t fully
understand your idea or opinion yet.
Our differences are the ground on
which we’ll build a bridge to come
together.
Marilyn liked that idea. So I asked
her to do that sort of chat with me.
She quickly discovered that the more
she withheld her own opinions and
thoughts, the more likely I was to
offer up my own. She lit up. “If I’m
willing to conduct the interview,
the other person will do the work!”
“Sometimes,” I agreed. “But you have
to be willing to reciprocate when
the table turns.” Hearing that, her
face fell so fast that I laughed.
“You won’t switch roles in every
interchange but you have to be
willing to be in either role. That’s
courtesy. If you’re only willing to
be the interviewer, over time people
will experience you as distant and
guarded. It’s like ducking out of
the break room before anyone can
engage you.” She reluctantly agreed.
Marilyn learned that chat is like a
tennis warm-up: the point isn’t to
win or dominate; it’s to just keep
the ball going. Chat is a social
contract where we agree to hit
whatever ball the other person sends
our way. When someone asks a
question, replying with a terse one-
or two-word answer violates the
spirit of the game. You have to
respond with an entire idea or a
little example. This doesn’t mean
it’s okay to hog the ball and make
long, uninterrupted speeches. That’s
its own violation of the game.
Answer at a moderate length.
So I turned the tables and
interviewed her for a while. She
wasn’t half bad. After a while I
asked how she felt. She rolled her
eyes and sighed, “Exhausted!”
I assured her that was natural.
“You’re doing something that’s
unfamiliar. You don’t have any
endurance for it yet. Expect to be
tired at first. That’s all the more
reason to get in there and build up
your stamina.”
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If you struggle with this
social nicety called chat,
remember the following four
ideas: |
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1 |
Chatting is not intrusive.
Your discomfort is a mere
allergy. Tolerate it. Build
up your immunity by exposing
yourself to it. |
|
2 |
Be curious. Listen for
differences. Cast yourself
as the inquisitive learner.
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3 |
When the other person
inquires about you, keep the
ball going back and forth.
Don’t be brief. They’re
interested. Respond with
details at a moderate
length. |
|
4 |
Be willing to be tired. Like
any other skill, it takes
effort, especially at first.
But don’t avoid it just
because it’s unfamiliar.
You’ll get better over time. |
Read a related Tip:
Act With
Intention |
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