At a social gathering not long ago I realized how few people can carry on an interesting, intelligent two-way conversation these days.
I certainly can’t. After a day of wiping kitchen counters 40 times, gathering up dirty dishes, fending off telemarketers and scraping dog poo off the rug, let’s just say that my talking points are less than sparkling.
But I noticed that I’m not alone. Most people don’t know — or don’t care — how to converse anymore. They especially don’t know— or don’t care— how to involve the other person in a two-way exchange.
In fact, at that gathering I attended I began to notice all the types of conversationalists I chatted with, and I realized that I’m not the only one with less than sparkling talking points.
First, there is The Bore. He is totally blind to the interest (or disinterest) of others. He just happens to have 175 photos of his trip to Sedona, Ariz., that you must see. You can’t just whip through them and hand back his cellphone either. He guides you through, giving you the story behind every shot. Every single shot. “Now, see that cactus right there? No, that little one on the right....”
When he doesn’t have photos, he can take you through the entire life cycle of the Galapagos tortoise, drawing diagrams on his napkin for emphasis. Yawn all you want to. He’s on a roll. You’re stuck without hope of rescue because everyone else at the party takes one look at your slack-jawed stare and the tortoise artwork spread out on the table and suddenly remembers something they need from the kitchen.
The direct opposite of the The Bore (but almost as bad) is The Mummy. Instead of talking too much, she has nothing to say. Like, nothing, like a clam. The most you can get from her is “yes” and “no.” Tell her all the interesting stories you can think of, ask her questions, tell her that her girdle is on fire. You’ll get silence.
Though The Mummy’s silence is hard to deal with, things may liven up if tell her you need to stand up for a minute, and you shift yourself over to the captive audience surrounding the Me-Me.
The Me-Me watches you intensely if you are talking. You’re gratified that she’s drinking in all the fascinating stuff you have to say, but she isn’t really listening to you. She’s only watching for your lips to stop moving. The moment they do, she jumps in with details of her own life, which is much more interesting than yours, of course, and takes much longer to describe. You’ll learn all about her friends, her job, her opinions, and ALL the funny things that happened to her on her trip up home to see Mama-n- ‘em.
You’ll have plenty of time to think of the rest you want to say before she finishes her stories, but it won’t be your turn to talk again for a long, long, long time.
The first cousin to the Me-Me is The Proud Grandparent. Only he doesn’t talk about himself because he has a much more fascinating topic that you need to know about. When he walks up to you, his opening is always, “How are your kids and grandkids?”
But don’t bother trying to recall what any of your little tykes have done lately. Like Me-Me, the Proud Grandparent isn’t going to listen.
He was only asking because he knows that when your mouth stops moving on the few pitiful achievements of your kids, he’ll get to jump straight into talking about his own superstar kids and grandkids.
He knows you’ll be charmed by his stories because his offspring are the cutest, the smartest, the most talented and accomplished children and young adults in the world. They succeed in everything! Why, come to think of it, they take after him, by golly! He can recall and relate to you every single thing they’ve all done and said over the last two years. And he does that, for your pleasure, of course.
And woe is you if he just happens to have the pictures of all of them on their big days — “That’s Junior shaking hands with the governor! That there is Little Bit accepting the award for Smartest Student! This here is Bubba the day he was made president of his company! Have you ever seen such a fine bunch of kids? I’m not braggin’ a bit, but I think they are fine kids, even though they are mine! Har! Har!”
Have you recognized some of the people here that you’ve talked with recently? If not, don’t worry. I’m not skipping anybody.
Next week’s column will present another set of fascinating types of conversational partners who will relieve you of the need to ever say much of anything. Don’t miss it!
