You think you’re a great conversationalist because you can talk for hours. But you notice that folks avoid conversing with you. They back away with a quick “Hey! Good to see ya! Gotta go now!”
Assuming you don’t have buffalo breath, maybe you need surgery—conversation surgery, that is. Try cutting out some of your favorite chatting points that tend to turn any listener off before you can draw breath for sentence two.
One thing that puts listeners in flight as fast as they can get their feet turned around is your “My Grandchildren” opener.
“Oh, I just got these pictures of my 15 grandchildren! You gotta see ‘um... Here’s Bubba in his T-ball uniform and Bubbetta chasing a goat and Little Lulu in the tub, and here’s ....” and suddenly you’re speaking to an empty room. Save that topic for the kids’ loving relatives.
Speaking of children, take the scalpel to these claims about yours: “My child would never do that!” and “My child did not do that!”
He probably would and he probably did, and the cops have probably had a long conversation with him about it. And his teacher didn’t call you down to the school because Little Bubba did what he was supposed to, so be careful of raving about Bubba’s innocence.
Besides, your listener either knows Bubba did indeed sneak a mouse into the teacher’s desk or she’s noting your claim for future reference. She may stay silent when darling Bubba robs a bank, but she’ll remember how naive you were, bless your heart.
Next, put the scalpel to statements like “You should do what I do,” or “You need to....”
You usually don’t know what people should do. If they ask you, it’s OK to make a suggestion, but nobody really wants advice unless you’re their doctor or their CPA, and then they still won’t take it. They just want to tell you they have a problem. If you launch into a “what-I-would-do-is” rant, you’re putting the emphasis on YOU and ignoring their problem.
No wonder they ignore you now.
People also avoid those who turn every conversation into “Story Time.” If your listener tells you about an issue in her life, and your reply is “That reminds me of the time that I . . ..” you’re still switching the focus from her to you. I know your glory days were exciting, but a review of them tells your friend you aren’t listening to her story.
Another version of “Story Time” is the conversation in which you retell the entire plot of a two hour movie you saw. “And then, ...and THEN...but I forgot to tell you that....” If you look up mid-plot, you’ll see that your friend’s eyes have glazed over. Take a hint.
Next, stop insisting in your conversations.
If you invite someone over to have coffee and he says, “Thanks, but I really can’t,” accept his answer graciously. Don’t keep insisting. Don’t say, “Oh, come on. It’s no trouble at all!” And don’t ask “Why can’t you? You’ve got a few minutes, surely.”
Your friend has politely declined. He isn’t declining because it’s trouble for you, he’s declining because it’s trouble for him. He doesn’t have a few minutes. He doesn’t want to come. He doesn’t like your coffee.
If 2-ton Tessie tells you she doesn’t want another piece of pie, your reply should not be “Come on, there’s plenty! I insist!”
Don’t be the person who won’t take no for an answer. Believe it or not, when some people say no, they mean NO. Tessie isn’t trying to save pie, she’s trying to save her life. Stop pushing!
And trim the Gloom and Doom out of your conversation: “You’re having a colonoscopy? Gurrrl, that was the worst thang I ever had in my life! Good luck drankin’ all that stuff the night before! Stay near tha outhouse and don’t wear yur good pannies! Oh, you pore thang!”
As Barney Fife would say, “Nip it in the bud!” Nip these other conversation killers too:
“Didn’t you use’ta have more hair?”
“Surely you aren’t wearing that!”
“You really gonna eat all that?”
And this favorite of mothers-in-law, “Don’t worry that your house isn’t clean, dear. I don’t mind at all.”
If you only have to nip one or two of these habits from your chat repetoire, you can make a quick cut and be more enjoyable to talk to.
If you need major surgery on most of your talking points, maybe you should put a bandage over your mouth for awhile.
If you need a complete conversation-ectomy, you may want to open your mouth only to put in a piece of lemon icebox pie and sit silently chewing while others talk.
Then for once, maybe your friends won’t turn pale and run when that mouth of yours flies open. No story of your life, no insistence, no Gloom and Doom—you’re just chewing up pie.
