A fisherman uses different bait to bag bass or bluefish. And you will obviously throw out different conversational bait to snag simple shrimp or sophisticated sharks. Your hook should relate to the type of person you’re speaking with. I’m originally from Washington, D.C. If someone at, say, an art gallery asked me where I was from, I might answer “Washington, D.C.—designed, you know, by the same city planner who designed Paris.” This opens the conversational possibilities to the artistry of city planning, Paris, other cities’ plans, European travel, and so forth.
At a social party of singles I’d opt for another answer. “I’m from Washington, D.C. The reason I left is there were seven women to every man when I was growing up.” Now the conversation can turn to the ecstasy or agony of being single, the perceived lack of desirable men everywhere, or even flirtatious possibilities.
In a political group, I’d cast a current fact from the constantly evolving political face of Washington. No need to speculate on the multitude of conversational possibilities that unlocks.
Where do you get your conversational bait? Start by phoning the chamber of commerce or historical society of your town. Search the World Wide Web and click on your town, or open an old-fashioned encyclopedia—all rich sources for future stimulating conversations. Learn some history, geography, business statistics, or perhaps a few fun facts to tickle future friends’ funny
bones.
The Devlin debacle inspired further research. The minute I got home, I called the Columbus chamber of commerce and the historical society. Say you, too, are from Columbus, Ohio, and your new acquaintance lays it on you: “Where are you from?” When you are talking with a businessperson, your answer could be, “I’m from Columbus, Ohio. You know many major corporations do their product testing in Columbus because it’s so commercially typical. In fact, it’s been called ‘the most American city in America.’ They say if it booms or bombs in Columbus, it booms or bombs nationally.”
Talking with someone with a German last name? Tell her about Columbus’s historic German Village with the brick streets and the wonderful 1850s-style little houses. It’s bound to inspire stories of the old country. Your conversation partner’s surname is Italian? Tell him Genoa, Italy, is Columbus’s sister city.
Talking with an American history buff? Tell him that Columbus was, indeed, named after Christopher Columbus and that a replica of the Santa Maria is anchored in the Scioto River. Talking with a student? Tell her about the five universities in Columbus.
The possibilities continue. You suspect your conversation partner has an artistic bent? “Ah,” you throw out casually, “Columbus is the home of artist George Bellows.”
Columbusites, prepare some tasty snacks for askers even if you know nothing about them. Here’s a goodie. Tell them you always have to say “Columbus, Ohio” because there is also a Columbus, Arkansas; Columbus, Georgia; Columbus, Indiana; Columbus, Kansas; Columbus, Kentucky; Columbus, Mississippi; Columbus, Montana; Columbus, Nebraska; Columbus, New Jersey; Columbus, New Mexico; Columbus, North Carolina; Columbus, North Dakota; Columbus, Pennsylvania; Columbus, Texas; and Columbus, Wisconsin. That spreads the conversational possibilities to fifteen other states. Remember, as a quotable notable once said, “No man would listen to you talk if he didn’t know it was his turn next.”
A postscript to the hellish experience I had with Columbus. Months later, I mentioned the trauma to my speaker friend from Columbus, Jeff. Jeff explained his house was really in a smaller town just minutes outside Columbus.
“What town, Jeff?”
“Gahanna, Ohio. Gahanna means ‘hell’ in Hebrew,” he said, and then went on to explain why he thought ancient Hebrew historians were clairvoyant.
Thanks, Jeff, I knew you’d never lay a naked city on any of your listeners.
At a social party of singles I’d opt for another answer. “I’m from Washington, D.C. The reason I left is there were seven women to every man when I was growing up.” Now the conversation can turn to the ecstasy or agony of being single, the perceived lack of desirable men everywhere, or even flirtatious possibilities.
In a political group, I’d cast a current fact from the constantly evolving political face of Washington. No need to speculate on the multitude of conversational possibilities that unlocks.
Where do you get your conversational bait? Start by phoning the chamber of commerce or historical society of your town. Search the World Wide Web and click on your town, or open an old-fashioned encyclopedia—all rich sources for future stimulating conversations. Learn some history, geography, business statistics, or perhaps a few fun facts to tickle future friends’ funny
bones.
The Devlin debacle inspired further research. The minute I got home, I called the Columbus chamber of commerce and the historical society. Say you, too, are from Columbus, Ohio, and your new acquaintance lays it on you: “Where are you from?” When you are talking with a businessperson, your answer could be, “I’m from Columbus, Ohio. You know many major corporations do their product testing in Columbus because it’s so commercially typical. In fact, it’s been called ‘the most American city in America.’ They say if it booms or bombs in Columbus, it booms or bombs nationally.”
Talking with someone with a German last name? Tell her about Columbus’s historic German Village with the brick streets and the wonderful 1850s-style little houses. It’s bound to inspire stories of the old country. Your conversation partner’s surname is Italian? Tell him Genoa, Italy, is Columbus’s sister city.
Talking with an American history buff? Tell him that Columbus was, indeed, named after Christopher Columbus and that a replica of the Santa Maria is anchored in the Scioto River. Talking with a student? Tell her about the five universities in Columbus.
The possibilities continue. You suspect your conversation partner has an artistic bent? “Ah,” you throw out casually, “Columbus is the home of artist George Bellows.”
Columbusites, prepare some tasty snacks for askers even if you know nothing about them. Here’s a goodie. Tell them you always have to say “Columbus, Ohio” because there is also a Columbus, Arkansas; Columbus, Georgia; Columbus, Indiana; Columbus, Kansas; Columbus, Kentucky; Columbus, Mississippi; Columbus, Montana; Columbus, Nebraska; Columbus, New Jersey; Columbus, New Mexico; Columbus, North Carolina; Columbus, North Dakota; Columbus, Pennsylvania; Columbus, Texas; and Columbus, Wisconsin. That spreads the conversational possibilities to fifteen other states. Remember, as a quotable notable once said, “No man would listen to you talk if he didn’t know it was his turn next.”
A postscript to the hellish experience I had with Columbus. Months later, I mentioned the trauma to my speaker friend from Columbus, Jeff. Jeff explained his house was really in a smaller town just minutes outside Columbus.
“What town, Jeff?”
“Gahanna, Ohio. Gahanna means ‘hell’ in Hebrew,” he said, and then went on to explain why he thought ancient Hebrew historians were clairvoyant.
Thanks, Jeff, I knew you’d never lay a naked city on any of your listeners.
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