I was chatting it up with a guy at a bar we went into. He was an older white male who had flown in on a private jet with some of his friends for some golf. They were all from "Bahston" and had funny accents. He complimented on my sweater and noted the quality of the fabric, then he started opening up about his life. So I paid him the ultimate compliment and started listening.
My new friend told me that after you achieve a certain level of wealth, people stop making you laugh. He said that the people who surround him are scared of offending him. Even his friends and family. He said they're so afraid their mouths are going to write a check they can't cash, that they stop being funny. He liked sitting next to me because I wasn't scared. I made him laugh.
He made me laugh too. While the rest of the world is worried about how they are going to pay their mortgage, the extremely wealthy are worried about who is going to make them laugh. Everything that shines ain't a diamond...
I thanked him for the drinks and tapas he purchased, then he leaned over and told me I was worth 150 million dollars. When I replied, "Eh, that's just because of the recession," he laughed again and we parted ways. I'm positive that our conversation, and the accompanying laughs, will stay with him for a while.
I wasn't blessed with the gift of gab, but I have great conversations with strangers all the time because I read much more than the average person. Reading makes me quick on my feet--a skill that has proved to do wonders with not only with conversations, but with customer service and awkward silences as well. I usually can concoct some sort of witty response that is applicable to a wide range of people and personalities.
Lately, however, I've been having trouble finding the right things to say. Needless to say, I've been spending a lot more time apologizing.
A good friend of mine is going through a divorce. His soon to be ex-wife did something that he felt was a violation of his privacy. When he called me to talk about it, he was furious. I asked what was wrong, he explained the situation, and my response was "I think you should get over it". He got quiet. Again, I asked what was wrong. This time he said, "I was expecting a different reaction from you".
Oh. Sorry.
Then I upset someone and when I realized it, I couldn't think of anything to say so I asked, "How angry are you?". The answer came back in a form as simple as the question, "Very". I responded with, "Fuck. I'm sorry." When I didn't hear back, I assumed this friend was expecting a different reaction as well.
Listening is a choice. And when people choose to listen to you, they expect things like comfort, reassurance, direction, and knowledge in return. Thus, the burden of the communicator.
I realized the burden of great communication as a manager early in my career. As a result, I'm typically very disciplined with my communication. The majority of what I say is deliberate and mulled over until it comes out as clear as possible. When I speak, both my intentions and expectations should be neatly packaged in a few sentences. The deal should be sealed with techniques from the school of metaphors, slang, body language and vocal tones so that the authenticity is not completely lost in the mulling. I swear, I'm typically pretty good at all this. Lately, I've sucked.
The more I apologize for things said and done wrong as a communicator, I wonder if it's selfish of me to ask for expect something from all those I've offended...then again, perhaps forgiveness is the burden of the listener.
Comments