Walking To My Death

I’m walking to my death. 

It’s mid afternoon and I’m pausing work for one of those corporate social networking events. I die a little every time I attend a social event. It’s the small talk I can’t handle. I just don’t get much out of it and I can feel that today this event won’t be any different. 

As I approach the event hall I see a couple of familiar colleagues and a lot of strangers through the tall glass doors. The plan is to walk in, grab a water, join a circle, stand and smile for 5 minutes, then head back up to my desk and get real work done. 

(breathe)

I’m an adult. 

(breathe)

I can handle this.

I pass through the doors and start walking. There are my colleagues. They would be the easiest and most comfortable group to chill with. But, I don’t stop. Wait, why am I not stopping? Why am I still walking? And why does the room feel like it’s getting smaller. I’m almost to the other side and I haven’t joined a circle. Why am I still walking? I’m scanning the room in panic mode looking for a circle to join. I’m still walking. I’m too prideful to turn around and go back to my peeps. I’m at the end of the line and I feel the heat of embarrassment welling up inside, but a small group of two makes eye contact with me and I approach with relief.

“Hi, I’m… what do you like to group are you in?” I say.

They look at me confused.

“What organization are you in?” I clarify.

I’ve successfully started the small talk engine. I can probably keep it running for another 4 minutes and still get outta here unscathed.

Movement to my right causes me to turn my head and see our company CFO walking up to us with a hand outstretched to shake our hands.

There goes my chance for a smooth exit.

New plan, I’m going to attempt for a more meaningful conversation and try to make the best of the situation.

The CFO just mentioned his son and skiing.

“What was it like when you went skiing with your son for the first time?” I ask.

He pauses and then describes the experience.

Wait, he’s human. I mean I know he’s human, but I thought…

“When did you know he was better at skiing than you?”

More details. This guy is real. He’s a father. I’m a father.

Each of his responses open him up a little bit more as I’m asking him question after question and he’s sharing summarized memory after summarized memory.

Then he mentions his father, camping, and hiking.

“What’s one of the worst hiking experiences you had with your dad?” I ask.

He opens up completely this time. No summarizing. I’m laughing at the unexpected twist in his story and I'm a little startled at how easily I’m able to relate to his experience.

Another person has come over and is standing just outside our talking circle. I can tell he’s waiting to talk to the CFO. How long have we been talking?

“Sorry, I’ve been monopolizing his time. I bet you want to talk with him.” I say and I excuse myself. 

I’m walking away from the group gathering that I’ve been at for 15 minutes and I actually feel… a little more… alive.

-The End-

That was a real life experience that happened to me a few days ago. If I did a good enough job telling the story, you hopefully saw my micro transformation (i.e. I once thought X, now I think Y). But, in case you didn't, I'll spell it out. 

I’m an introvert and it was in the small moment as I walked away that I realized that socializing doesn’t have to be as painful as I always seem to think it is. Don’t get me wrong, I still think social events are awkward and uncomfortable and I’m not looking forward to whatever the next one is, but at least I’ll know how to connect with others beyond the small talk. Stories. I can connect with people through stories. Their stories.

How do you get them to share their stories? You can’t just say, “Hey, tell me a story so I don’t feel awkward talking to you. Tell me a story. Entertain me. Connect with me.” I mean, you can, but… let me know how that goes.

I read a book where the author was trying to learn more about her grandfather’s experience in World War II, but her questions were too broad like, “What was World War II like?” As a result, her grandpa would give some basic answers and not much else. So, she decided to ask him a more specific question. “Where were you stationed in World War II?” He gave a location and then she followed up with “What was it like being stationed in Perth, Australia?” And with that he opened up and talked about his experiences and even included details like the rats running over the bunks at night.

So, one tool is to be more specific in your questions. Another tool is called “First. Last. Best. Worst.” and I got it from storyteller Matthew Dicks. It’s simple, and, in my own words, all you do is pick a noun and then ask the person you’re talking to about their first or last or best or worst experience with that noun. You can choose something randomly or you can choose something based on what you may know about the person (hint: small talk is actually beneficial and can help you find nouns to ask about).

Most first-time acquaintances (aka strangers) I talk to need prompts. The Noun + First.Last.Best.Worst question is a way to jog their memory. It’s a way to prompt them into a story. Or, at the very least they will give you some details that you can then ask more questions about until you eventually get to a story. 

If you’re an introvert, try these two tools for yourself at your next social gathering. Maybe it’ll work for you. Maybe it won’t. All I know is that it worked for me.