I was recently invited to a celebratory event where I knew hardly anyone, other than Harriet and Owen who attended with me. (Julia was invited but couldn’t make it.)
I was assigned to a table and sat next to a guy I’d never met.
By nature, I am admittedly on the self-absorbed, distracted side, and not inherently a great listener. I’m not an effusive, chatty type. I’m not extroverted in any way. But I’ve learned how to have a conversation with a stranger: engage, and then listen with curiosity and interest.
Both of my kids have learned conversational skills. I saw Owen, seated at a different table, join in conversation with people he barely knew. I’ve witnessed Julia demonstrate focused interest in what others have to say. Harriet can converse with anyone.
The fella I was seated next to was a retired attorney. I discovered that about him by asking. I also learned something about his firm and his areas of specialty and where he lived and about his grandkids and a few of the health challenges he’s facing. He was happy to share all this information.
What did he learn about me? Not one thing. He expressed no interest in me in return. He asked not one question about me.
At least this lack of reciprocation prevented me from falling into the trap of thinking about what I would say when my turn came or how I would come across or whether he’ll find me impressive—all that self-referential stuff that makes it hard to maintain curiosity and interest in the other person. I was free to pay attention to him. But it was exhausting. At least allowing him to do most of the talking freed me to eat my meal, which was excellent.
I don’t mind being unseen by strangers. I don’t mind them not taking an interest in me. It’s when people I’m closer to, who maybe even love me, don’t express curiosity about me that I feel overlooked. It happens often enough that I’ve noticed. I won’t list examples because I don’t want to call anyone out, and I’d like to believe it’s not intentional on their part. Maybe I give off an unapproachable vibe. And ultimately, no one owes me anything.
Could it be that conversation is a fading skill? More texts, fewer phone calls, ranting comments on social media, more people keeping to themselves, divisive feelings among people with different beliefs, online ordering and appointment setting—it might all be taking a bite out of conversational skills. And yet, my twentysomething kids, raised in the internet era, are skilled conversationalists. Is conversation no longer important? Is expressing interest in others passé? What do you think?
