Sing "Other People"
I have a habit. It is sometimes a good and sometimes a bad but most frequently lies pretty well on the fairway of the habitspace: it is to tell other people's stories.
I'm not sure when or why I realized that other people's lives are more interesting than my own, but it is certainly true that, when I do make a go at small talk, I tend to commence the majority of my sentences with the lead-in of "I know someone who..." Query me regarding my interests and I will dredge up a couple, ask me about my work and I will tell you that it is going just about as well as it ever does, inquire regarding my family and you will get the basic facts, but if the conversation is to bend towards anything more delightful and instructive that bend will almost certainly take an angle away from self. You may hear Mickey's thoughts on feeling fat, for example, or an exaggeration on the subject of Adam's clumsy squirrel, a treatise full of Timothy's philosophy or a guidebook to Brian's more recent escapades. Those scars on my tummy, though? You'll have to ask someone else for the tale.
I was reminded of this tendency today as a coworker recounted the conversation he had with a friend at one of our partner companies.
He called her up, them not having chatted in a while, and asked her how her day was going. She said not very well as her dog had just died. He replied that he was sorry to hear that and continued on that vein for a few minutes, asking how old was the poor thing, speaking about how these things hit everyone pretty hard because you get so attached, telling about how he remembered that one time he had a dog that he liked very much... at this point she asked him what he was talking about dogs for, she said that her dad had died.
It will be a long time before my coworker rings his friend up again. Looking on the bright side, though, the awkwardness of his position has added another arrow to my second-hand repertoire.
Music of the moment:
Did I already tell you about Skip James? Yes? Well, then - nothing new to report. Perhaps another trip to the library is in order.
I'm not sure when or why I realized that other people's lives are more interesting than my own, but it is certainly true that, when I do make a go at small talk, I tend to commence the majority of my sentences with the lead-in of "I know someone who..." Query me regarding my interests and I will dredge up a couple, ask me about my work and I will tell you that it is going just about as well as it ever does, inquire regarding my family and you will get the basic facts, but if the conversation is to bend towards anything more delightful and instructive that bend will almost certainly take an angle away from self. You may hear Mickey's thoughts on feeling fat, for example, or an exaggeration on the subject of Adam's clumsy squirrel, a treatise full of Timothy's philosophy or a guidebook to Brian's more recent escapades. Those scars on my tummy, though? You'll have to ask someone else for the tale.
I was reminded of this tendency today as a coworker recounted the conversation he had with a friend at one of our partner companies.
He called her up, them not having chatted in a while, and asked her how her day was going. She said not very well as her dog had just died. He replied that he was sorry to hear that and continued on that vein for a few minutes, asking how old was the poor thing, speaking about how these things hit everyone pretty hard because you get so attached, telling about how he remembered that one time he had a dog that he liked very much... at this point she asked him what he was talking about dogs for, she said that her dad had died.
It will be a long time before my coworker rings his friend up again. Looking on the bright side, though, the awkwardness of his position has added another arrow to my second-hand repertoire.
Music of the moment:
Did I already tell you about Skip James? Yes? Well, then - nothing new to report. Perhaps another trip to the library is in order.
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