Rescue tips for ‘conversational disappointment’
The old man wouldn’t shut up.
He belched out a gumbo of words, thoughts and opinions like yesterday’s leftovers. I should have smelled it coming when we bumped into each other at the gym. What started as polite chitchat degenerated into a diatribe of useless chatter.
He touched on all of his usual talking points: politics, religion and the deterioration of society. My mind started closing. My ears weren’t as fortunate. My eyebrows did most of the talking. I began replying with forced facial movements. I managed to get out an occasion, “Yeah?” “Really?” “Wow.”
If I wore a watch, I would have glanced at it two dozen times to convey that time was slipping from my life. I quietly hoped that someone would call my phone to rescue me. Hello? Please text me. Anyone? My phone was unusually quiet, as if it was part of this conspiracy to publicly torment me.
The old man hijacked our conversation. It quickly went from a pleasant dialogue to a blathering monologue. I felt like Wallace Shawn listening to Andre Gregory in the 1981 film, “My Dinner with Andre,” as Andre prattled on about mostly himself.
When that movie came out, it became an instant classic for me with observational dialogue such as this gem: “Wally, don’t you see that comfort can be dangerous? I mean, you like to be comfortable and I like to be comfortable too, but comfort can lull you into a dangerous tranquility.”
That film, with both actors playing fictionalized versions of themselves at Café des Artistes in Manhattan, made me feel intellectually uncomfortable. It challenged me. It enlightened me. I must have watched it a dozen times.
The old man made me feel uncomfortable in a different way. Our “conversation” bored me, lingering for several minutes longer than I planned. I’ve been ducking him in public places ever since. Never again, I told myself.
Last week, I found out that I’m not alone with this kind of aggravation. A Harvard University study concluded that “conversational disappointment” is quite common, with only 2% of conversations ending when both parties wanted them to stop.
It didn’t matter if this discussion was between strangers or lovers.
“Conversants had little idea when their partners wanted to end, and underestimated how discrepant their partners’ desires were from their own,” according to the study’s abstract, which combined results from two studies, one with intimate partners, the other with strangers.
“These studies suggest that ending conversations is a classic coordination problem that humans are unable to solve because doing so requires information that they normally keep from each other. As a result, most conversations appear to end when no one wants them to,” it states.
We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Some conversations drag on like a slow, agonizing death. Others end much too quickly, like an unjust execution. It’s rare when a conversation ends naturally, like from old age after a full life.
“Social connection is essential to physical and psychological well-being, and conversation is the primary means by which it is achieved. And yet, scientists know little about it — how it starts, how it unfolds, or how it ends,” the study states. “At a moment in history when billions of people have been forced to curtail their normal social activities … a scientific understanding of conversation could hardly be timelier.”
I agree 100%. I also find it sad with today’s absurd abundance of high-tech sophistication to connect with each other, we seem more lonely and detached than ever before. And this was before COVID-19 infected our social lives.
With public restrictions being lifted and society returning more to pre-pandemic normalcy, face-toface conversations are returning, described in the study as “the most ubiquitous of all human social activities.” We should learn from this study’s findings before wasting the time of other people, or feeling disappointed when our chats end too soon.
“The average discrepancy between desired and actual durations was roughly half the duration of the conversation,” the study states. In other words, too long.
As an overly curious newspaper columnist, I consider myself a professional conversation starter. I can initiate a conversation with most anyone. Hell, I could probably interview a doorknob if the opportunity knocked for a new column idea.
Starting a conversation is easy. All it takes is a simple, “How ya doin’?” even if asked as a casual greeting, not as an emotional probe into someone’s personal life. Seventeen minutes later and you know exactly, and exhaustively, how they’re doing.
Ending a conversation isn’t as easy. Should you tell the other person a little white lie to escape? “I have a dentist appointment in 10 minutes.” Should you be brutally honest? “Sorry, but I find you rather boring and my time means more to me than your words.” Should you be more tactful? “It’s been great catching up with you, but … ”
I’ve used every possible variation through the years, including a pivot to other topics to sway someone from their familiar talking points. For example, “So, what are your views on existential angst as a middle-aged guy?” Or, “Isn’t sex a fascinating subject that no one wants to talk about?”
These questions, asked seriously, will typically signal an end to a conversation with most people. The way I see it, if my time is being misspent, I want to waste it on topics that at least interest me.
My other suggestions: Don’t ask any more questions. Keep your responses short, even curt. Glance at your watch or phone or anyone else walking past. Subtle nonverbal hints sometimes work. Or try this classic line, “Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer …”
None of this worked with that old man. I had to flex a more abrupt approach.
“Sorry, but I’m done here,” I told him tersely.
He didn’t mind. A few minutes later, I saw him boring someone else. I call it dodging a bullet.