Conversation skills are not taught in school. They are of our own creation. Whatever helped mold them --heredity, environment, or other influences -- over time, each of us settles into a conversation style which, almost like a fingerprint, is unique to us alone. Our close family members and friends, if pressed to admit it, will tell us that our conversation styles are recognizable and probably quite predictable.
Some people's conversations are magnetic, drawing us in.
The styles of others are a sure cure for insomnia.
Some are always uplifting, even entertaining. "A person who can bring the spirit of laughter into a room is indeed blessed" (Bennett Cerf) -- but never at the expense of others.
Some are very outspoken, leaving no doubt in others' minds that not only do they have a strong opinion, but that it is the final and authoritative word on the subject.
Some constantly interrupt.
One type of conversationalist to whom I have a strong aversion is the one who simply has to let everyone know what he thinks -- about everything! Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it's wrong to have opinions. But where is it written that, "Thou shalt have no unexpressed thoughts"? I quickly become weary of those whose every statement begins with, "Well, I think . . ."
Some never miss an opportunity to burden or depress others by dwelling on their own aches and pains -- proving the old adage that, "Misery not only loves company -- it insists on it!" (Russell Baker).
Some are quick to humbly deflect any praise or attention, directing their concern to the welfare of others instead. As author Frederick Collins said, some people give us a preview of their conversational style as soon as they enter a room: : "There are two types of people: Those who come in into a room and say ‘Well, here I am!’ - and those who come in and say, ‘Ah, there you are!’”
Some only talk about one thing: someone else who isn't present. I have been in restaurants on more than one occasion and had the same experience repeat itself. It occurs when I'm seated next to a table of various professional women on their lunch break. While the women making up those groups is different each time, I noted something that each of those conversations has in common. It is the topic they spend more time talking about than anything else: the word "she."
Some, almost robot-like in their responses, react to whatever you may say in conversation with the same predictable word: "Awesome," or "Wow," or "Amazing." Whether you've just told them your dog had puppies, your child is on the honor roll, the toilet oveflowed, you have a hangnail, or the oil in your car needs changing, their response will always be that same predictable word. [Note: According to the dictionary, the word "awesome" is the appropriate word to use when describing 'an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful or the like; as 'in awe of God,' I guess this rules out the cashier at Deseret Book who, when I handed him a $5 bill, responded with, "Awesome."]
Some reveal too many details about their personal lives in the presence ot total strangers. (This is the reason for my very short-lived Facebook experience. It is incomprehensible to me the highly personal things people put out there for their "friends" to see. It was a mystery to me, for example, why a college educator of my acquaintance felt the need to keep others informed about his progress on Farmville. Hello? How about some real world accomplishments? All I could think to say after reading his postings were a couple of "awesomes," a handful of "wows," and a muttered "amazing!")
If we have patterns like these in our conversations, remember this: others notice how we speak. It takes a conscious effort to listen to ourselves and see if we need to get out of some of well-worn, comfortable, yet possibly damaging conversational ruts.
Three final quotes:
(1) "A big black leather chair stood in Brigham Young's office by the Lion House; it faced the window on the opposite wall by the President's desk in the middle of the room. First-time visitors to the office were invited to sit on that chair, facing the strong light of day and the calm blue eyes of Brother Brigham, who sat there at his desk, his back to the window, quietly waiting for his guest to say something. After all, the man had come to see him, and it was only right to let him state his business. President Young, according to Grandfather, would never say a word for the first three minutes. And at the end of those first three minutes he always knew exactly the sort of man he was dealing with, and the nature -- greedy, benign, or sinister -- of his business. 'And he never [here Grandpa smote the arm of his chair] had to change his mind!' . . . Brigham Young used to say that no man, if allowed to speak, could possibly avoid revealing his true character, 'For out of the abundance of the heart the tongue speaketh.'" (Hugh Nibley, "Educating the Saints," Nibley on the Timely and the Timeless, 230, italics added.)
(2) "Refinement in speech is reflected not only in our choice of words but also in the things we talk about. There are those who always speak of themselves, and they are either insecure or proud. There are those who always speak of others. They are usually very boring. There are those who speak of stirring ideas, compelling books, and inspiring doctrine. These are the few who make their mark in the world" (Elder Douglas L. Callister, "Your Refined Heavenly Home," BYU devotional speech, 19 Sept. 2006).
(3) "Wise is the man who says what needs to be said, but not all that could be said" (Elder Marvin J. Ashton, "Proper Self-Management," Ensign, Nov. 1976, 86).
This article is dedicated to the memory of my beloved father, Albert E. Knight, who passed away January 16, 2012. In the many expressions of love and praise from friends and family there was this common thread: Conversations with him were wonderful experiences because he was always delightful, unselfish, caring, and witty. May we follow his example.
This article is dedicated to the memory of my beloved father, Albert E. Knight, who passed away January 16, 2012. In the many expressions of love and praise from friends and family there was this common thread: Conversations with him were wonderful experiences because he was always delightful, unselfish, caring, and witty. May we follow his example.
