How to Resuscitate a Dying Conversation (technique No 18)

Even a well-intentioned husband who might ask his wife while making love, “Is it good for you, too, Honey?” knows not to ask a colleague, “Is the conversation good for you, too?” Yet he wonders . . . we all do. With the following technique, set your mind at rest. You can definitely make the conversation hot for anyone with whom you speak. Like my prom date, Donnie, you will miraculously find subjects to engross your listeners.

Be a Sleuth on Their Slips of the Tongue

No matter how elusive the clue, Sherlock Holmes is confident he’ll soon be staring right at it through his magnifying glass. Like the unerring detective, big winners know, no matter how elusive the clue, they’ll find the right topic. How? They become word detectives.

I have a young friend, Nancy, who works in a nursing home. Nancy cares deeply about the elderly but often grumbles about how crotchety and laconic some of her patients are. She laments she has difficulty relating to them. Nancy told me about one especially cantankerous old woman named Mrs. Otis, whom she could never get to open up to her.

“One day,” Nancy confided, “right after all those rainstorms we had last week, just to make conversation, I remarked to Mrs. Otis, ‘Terrible storms we had last week, don’t you think?’ Well,” Nancy continued, “Mrs. Otis practically jumped down my throat. She said in a snippy voice, ‘It’s been good for the plants.’ ” I asked Nancy how she responded to that.

“What could I say?” Nancy answered. “The woman was obviously cutting me off.”

“Did you ever think to ask Mrs. Otis if she liked plants?”

“Plants?” Nancy asked.

“Well, yes,” I suggested. “Mrs. Otis brought the subject up.” I asked Nancy to do me a favor. “Ask her,” I begged. Nancy resisted, but I persisted. Just to quiet me down, Nancy promised to ask “cantankerous old Mrs. Otis” if she liked plants.

The next day, a flabbergasted Nancy called me from work. “Leil, how did you know? Not only did Mrs. Otis love plants, but she told me she’d been married to a gardener. Today I had a different problem with Mrs. Otis. I couldn’t shut her up! She went on and on about her garden, her husband. . . .”

Top communicators know ideas don’t come out of nowhere. If Mrs. Otis thought to bring up plants, then she must have some relationship with them. Furthermore, by mentioning the word, it meant subconsciously she wanted to talk about plants.

Suppose, for example, instead of responding to Nancy’s comment about the rain with “It’s good for the plants,” Mrs. Otis had said, “Because of the rain, my dog couldn’t go out.” Nancy could then ask about her dog. Or suppose she grumbled, “It’s bad for my arthritis.” Can you guess what old Mrs. Otis wants to talk about now?

When talking with anyone, keep your ears open and, like a good detective, listen for clues. Be on the lookout for any unusual references: any anomaly, deviation, digression, or invocation of another place, time, person. Ask about it because it’s the clue to what your conversation partner would really enjoy discussing.

If two people have something in common, when the shared interest comes up, they jump on it naturally. For example, if someone mentions playing squash (bird-watching or stamp collecting) and the listener shares that passion, he or she pipes up, “Oh, you’re a squasher (or birder or philatelist), too!”

Here’s the trick: there’s no need to be a squasher, birder, or philatelist to pipe up with enthusiasm. You can simply “Be a Word Detective.” When you pick up on the reference as though it excites you, too, it parlays you into conversation the stranger thrills to. (The subject may put your feet to sleep, but that’s another story.)

Technique #18

Be a Word Detective

Like a good gumshoe, listen to your conversation partner’s every word for clues to his or her preferred topic. The evidence is bound to slip out. Then spring on that subject like a sleuth on to a slip of the tongue. Like Sherlock Holmes, you have the clue to the subject that’s hot for the other person.

Now that you’ve ignited stimulating conversation, let’s explore a technique to keep it hot.

How to Introduce People Like the Host(ess) with the Most(est) (technique No 17)

It is important to help “newlymets” through their first nervous moments.

“Susan, I’d like you to meet John Smith. John, this is Susan Jones.” Duh, what do you expect John and Susan to say?

“Smith? Umm, that’s S-M-I-T-H, isn’t it?”

“Uh, er, golly, Susan, well, now, there’s an interesting name.”

Nice-try-forget-it. Don’t blame John or Susan for being less than scintillating. The fault lies with the person who introduced the two the way most people introduce their friends to each other—with naked names. They cast out a line with no bait for people to sink their teeth into.

Big winners may not talk a lot, but conversation never dies unwillingly in their midst. They make sure of it with techniques like “Never the Naked Introduction.” When they introduce people, they buy an insurance policy on the conversation with a few simple add-ons: “Susan, I’d like you to meet John. John has a wonderful boat we took a trip on last summer. John, this is Susan Smith. Susan is editor in chief of Shoestring Gourmet magazine.”

Padding the introduction gives Susan the opportunity to ask what kind of boat John has or where the group went. It gives John an opening to discuss his love of writing. Or of cooking. Or of food. The conversation can then naturally expand to travel in general, life on boats, past vacations, favorite recipes, restaurants, budgets, diets, magazines, editorial policy—to infinity.

Technique #17

Never the Naked Introduction

When introducing people, don’t throw out an unbaited hook and stand there grinning like a big clam, leaving the newlymets to flutter their fins and fish for a topic. Bait the conversational hook to get them in the swim of things. Then you’re free to stay or float on to the next networking opportunity.

If you’re not comfortable mentioning someone’s job during the introduction, mention their hobby or even a talent. The other day at a gathering, the hostess introduced a man named Gilbert. She said, “Leil, I’d like you to meet Gilbert. Gilbert’s gift is sculpting. He makes beautiful wax carvings.” I remember thinking, “Gift—now that’s a lovely way to introduce someone and induce conversation.”

Armed with these two personality enhancers, three conversation igniters, and three small extenders, it is time to take a step up the communications ladder. Let us now rise from small talk and seek the path to more meaningful dialogue. The next technique is guaranteed to make the exchange engrossing for your conversation partner.

Painful Memories of Naked Job Flashers

I still harbor painful recollections of being tongue-tied when confronted by naked job flashers. Like the time a fellow at a dinner party told me, “I’m a nuclear scientist.” My weak “Oh, that must be fascinating” reduced me to a mental molecule in his eyes.

The chap on my other side announced, “I’m in industrial abrasives,” and then paused, waiting for me to be impressed. My “Well, er, golly, you must have to be a shrewd judge of character to be in industrial abrasives” didn’t fly either. We three sat in silence the rest of the meal.

Just last month a new acquaintance bragged, “I’m planning to teach Tibetan Buddhism at Truckee Meadows Community College,” and then clammed up. I knew less about Truckee Meadows than I did about Tibetan Buddhism. Whenever people ask you what you do, give them some mouth-to-ear resuscitation so they can catch their breath and say something.

How to Come Out a Winner Every Time They Ask, “And What Do You Do?” (technique No 16)

Third only to death and taxes is the assurance a new acquaintance will soon chirp, “And what do you do?” (Is it fitting and proper they should make that query? We’ll pick up that sticky wicketlater.) For the moment, these few defensive moves help you keep your crackerjack communicator credentials when asked the inevitable question.

First, like Never the Naked City, don’t toss a short-shrift answer in response to the asker’s breathless inquiry. You leave the poor fish flopping on the deck when you just say your title: “I’m an actuary/an auditor/an author/an astrophysicist.” Have mercy so he or she doesn’t feel like a nincompoop outsider asking, “What, er, kind of actuizing (auditing, authoring, or astrophysizing) do you do?”

You’re an attorney. Don’t leave it to laymen to try to figure out what you really do. Flesh it out. Tell a little story your conversation partner can get a handle on. For example, if you’re talking with a young mother say, “I’m an attorney. Our firm specializes in employment law. In fact, now I’m involved in a case where a company actually discharged a woman for taking extra maternity leave that was a medical necessity.” A mother can relate to that.


Technique #16

Never the Naked Job

When asked the inevitable “And what do you do,” you may think “I’m an economist/an educator/an engineer” is giving enough information to engender good conversation. However, to one who is not an economist, educator, or an engineer, you might as well be saying “I’m a paleontologist/psychoanalyst/pornographer.”

Flesh it out. Throw out some delicious facts about your job for new acquaintances to munch on. Otherwise, they’ll soon excuse themselves, preferring the snacks back at the cheese tray.

Talking with a business owner? Say “I’m an attorney. Our firm specializes in employment law. My current case concerns an employer who is being sued by one of her staff for asking personal questions during the initial job interview.” A business owner can relate to that.

Different Bait for Shrimp or Sharks

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.

How to Make “Where Are You From?” Sound Exciting (technique No 15)

You wouldn’t dream of going to a party naked. And I hope you wouldn’t dream of letting your conversation be exposed naked and defenseless against the two inevitable assaults “Where are you from?” and “What do you do?”

When asked these questions, most people, like clunking a frozen steak on a china platter, drop a brick of frozen geography or baffling job title on the asker’s conversational platter. Then they slap on the muzzle.

You’re at a convention. Everyone you meet will, of course, ask “And where are you from?” When you give them the short-form naked-city answer “Oh, I’m from Muscatine, Iowa” (or Millinocket, Maine; Winnemucca, Nevada; or anywhere they haven’t heard of ), what can you expect except a blank stare? Even if you’re a relatively big city slicker from Denver, Colorado; Detroit, Michigan; or San Diego, California, you’ll receive a panicked look from all but American history professors. They’re rapidly racking their brains thinking “What do I say next?” Even the names of world-class burgs like New York, Chicago, Washington, and Los Angeles inspire less-than-riveting responses. When I tell people I’m from New York City, what are they expected to say? “Duh, seen any good muggings lately?”


Do humanity and yourself a favor. Never, ever, give just a one-sentence response to the question, “Where are you from?” Give the asker some fuel for his tank, some fodder for his trough. Give the hungry communicator something to conversationally nibble on. All it takes is an extra sentence or two about your city—some interesting fact, some witty observation—to hook the asker into the conversation.

Several months ago, a trade association invited me to be its keynote speaker on networking and teaching people to be better conversationalists. Just before my speech, I was introduced to Mrs. Devlin, who was the head of the association.

“How do you do?” she asked.

“How do you do?” I replied.

Then Mrs. Devlin smiled, anxiously awaiting a sample of my stimulating conversational expertise. I asked her where she was from. She plunked a frozen “Columbus, Ohio” and a big expectant grin on my platter. I had to quickly thaw her answer into digestible conversation. My mind thrashed into action. Leil’s thought pattern: “Gulp, Columbus, Ohio. I’ve never been there, hmm. Criminy, what do I know about Columbus? I know a fellow named Jeff,
a successful speaker who lives there. But Columbus is too big to ask if she knows him . . . and besides only kids play the ‘Do-youknow-so-and-so’ game.” My panicked silent search continued. “I think it’s named after Christopher Columbus . . . but I’m not sure, so I better keep my mouth shut on that one.” Four or five other possibilities raced through my mind but I rejected them all as too obvious, too adolescent, or too off-the-wall.

I realized by now that seconds had passed, and Mrs. Devlin was still standing there with a slowly dissipating smile on her face. She was waiting for me (the “expert” who, within the hour, was expected to teach her trade association lessons on scintillating conversation) to spew forth words of wit or wisdom.

“Oh, Columbus, gee,” I mumbled in desperation, watching her face fall into the worried expression of a patient being asked by the surgeon, knife poised in hand, “Where’s your appendix?”

I never came up with stimulating conversation on Columbus. But, just then, under the knife, I created the following technique for posterity. I call it “Never the Naked City.”

Technique #15

Never the Naked City

Whenever someone asks you the inevitable, “And where are you from?” never, ever, unfairly challenge their powers of imagination with a one-word answer. Learn some engaging facts about your hometown that conversational partners can comment on. Then, when they say something clever in response to your bait, they think you’re a great conversationalist.

How to Break into a Tight Crowd (technique No 14)

The woman you’ve decided you MUST meet is wearing no Whatzit? Can’t find the host for the Whoozat technique? To make matters worse, she’s deep in conversation with a group of her friends. Seems quite hopeless that you will maneuver a meeting, doesn’t it? You can’t just say, “Excuse me, I just thought I’d eavesdrop in and say ‘Hello.’ ”

No obstacle blocks the resolute politician, who always has a trick or ten up his or her sleeve. A politico would resort to the “Eavesdrop In” technique. Eavesdropping, of course, conjures images of clandestine activities—wiretapping, Watergate break-ins, or spies skulking around in the murky shadows. Eavesdropping has historical precedent with politicians so, in a pinch, it naturally comes to mind.

At parties, stand near the group of people you wish to infiltrate. Then wait for a word or two you can use as a wedge to break into the group. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing that you . . .” and then whatever is relevant here. For example “I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion of Bermuda. I’m going there next month for the first time. Any suggestions?”

Now you are in the circle and can direct your comments to your intended.

Technique #14

Eavesdrop In

No Whatzit? No host for Whoozat? No problem! Just sidle up behind the swarm of folks you want to infiltrate and open your ears. Wait for any flimsy excuse and jump in with “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear. . . .”

Will they be taken aback? Momentarily.
Will they get over it? Momentarily.
Will you be in the conversation? Absolutely!


Let us now hop back on the train that first explored Small Talk City and travel to the land of Meaningful Communicating.

How to Meet the People You Want to Meet (technique No 13)

Say you have scrutinized the body of the important business contact you want to meet. You’ve searched in vain from the tip of his cowlick to the toes of his boots. He’s not sporting a single Whatzit.

If you strike out on finding something to comment on, resort to the Whoozat technique. Like a persistent politician, go to the party giver and say, “That man/woman over there looks interesting. Who is he/she?” Then ask for an introduction. Don’t be hesitant. The party giver will be pleased you find one of the guests interesting.

If, however, you are loath to pull the party giver away from his or her other guests, you still can perform Whoozat. This time, don’t ask for a formal introduction. Simply pump the party giver for just enough information to launch you. Find out about the stranger’s jobs, interests, and hobbies.

Suppose the party giver says, “Oh, that’s Joe Smith. I’m not sure what his job is, but I know he loves to ski.” Aha, you’ve just been given the icebreaker you need. Now you make a beeline for Joe Smith. “Hi, you’re Joe Smith, aren’t you? Susan was just telling me what a great skier you are. Where do you ski?” You get the idea.



Technique #13

Whoozat

Whoozat is the most effective, least used (by non-politicians) meeting-people device ever contrived. Simply ask the party giver to make the introduction, or pump for a few facts that you can immediately turn into icebreakers.

Now the third in our little trio of meeting-who-you-want tricks.

The Whatzit Way to Love. Be a Whatzit Seeker, Too (technique No 12)

The Whatzit Way to Love

Your Whatzit is a social aid whether you seek business rewards or new romance. My friend Alexander carries Greek worry beads with him wherever he goes. He’s not worried. He knows any woman who wants to talk to him will come up and say, “What’s that?”

Think about it, gentlemen. Suppose you’re at a party. An attractive woman spots you across the room. She wants to talk to you but she’s thinking, “Well, Mister, you’re attractive. But, golly, what can I say to you? You just ain’t got no Whatzit.”

Be a Whatzit Seeker, Too

Likewise, become proficient in scrutinizing the apparel of those you wish to approach. Why not express interest in the handkerchief in the tycoon’s vest pocket, the brooch on the bosom of the rich divorcee, or the school ring on the finger of the CEO whose company you want to work for?

The big spender who, you suspect, might buy a hundred of your widgets has a tiny golf-club lapel pin? Say, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your attractive lapel pin. Are you a golfer? Me, too. What courses have you played?”

Your business cards and your Whatzit are crucial socializing artifacts. Whether you are riding in the elevator, climbing the doorstep, or traversing the path to the party, make sure your Whatzit is hanging out for all to see.

Technique #12

Always Wear a Whatzit

Whenever you go to a gathering, wear or carry something unusual to give people who find you the delightful stranger across the crowded room an excuse to approach. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your . . . what IS that?”

The next quickie technique was originated by doggedly determined politicians who don’t let one partygoer escape if they think he or she could be helpful to their campaigns. I call it the “Whoozat” technique.

How to Make People Want to Start a Conversation with You

Singles proficient at meeting potential sweethearts without the benefit of introduction (in the vernacular, making a “pickup”), have developed a deliciously devious technique that works equally well for social or corporate networking purposes. The technique requires no exceptional skill on your part, only the courage to sport a simple visual prop called a “Whatzit.”

What’s a Whatzit? A Whatzit is anything you wear or carry that is unusual—a unique pin, an interesting purse, a strange tie, or an amusing hat. A Whatzit is any object that draws people’s attention and inspires them to approach you and ask, “Uh, what’s that?” Your Whatzit can be as subtle or overt as your personality and the occasion permit.

I wear around my neck an outmoded pair of glasses that resembles a double monocle. Often the curious have approached me at a gathering and asked, “Whatzit?” I explain it’s a lorgnette left to me by my grandmother, which, of course, paves the way to discuss hatred of glasses, aging eyes, love or loss of grandmothers, adoration of antique jewelry—anywhere the inquisitor wants to take it.

Perhaps, unknowingly, you have fallen prey to this soon-tobe-legendary technique. At a gathering, have you ever noticed someone you would like to talk to? Then you’ve racked your brain to conjure an excuse to make the approach. What a bounty it was to discover that he or she was wearing some weird, wild, or wonderful something you could comment on.

Ascent from Banality (technique No 11)

It is not necessary, of course, to stay with mundane remarks. If you find your company displays cleverness or wit, you match that. The conversation then escalates naturally, compatibly. Don’t rush it or, like the Mensans, you seem like you’re showing off. The bottom line on your first words is to have the courage of your own triteness. Because, remember, people tune in to your tone more than your text.

Technique #11

Prosaic with Passion

Worried about your first words? Fear not, because 80 percent of your listener’s impression has nothing to do with your words anyway. Almost anything you say at first is fine. No matter how prosaic the text, an empathetic mood, a positive demeanor, and passionate delivery make you sound exciting.

“Anything, Except Liverwurst!”

Back to Dottie waiting for her sandwich at her desk. Sometimes as I walked out the door scratching my head wondering what to bring her, she’d call after me, “Anything, except liverwurst, that is.” Thanks, Dottie, that’s a little bit of help.

Here’s my “anything, except liverwurst” on small talk. Anything you say is fine as long as it is not complaining, rude, or unpleasant. If the first words out of your mouth are a complaint— BLAM—people label you a complainer. Why? Because that complaint is your new acquaintance’s 100 percent sampling of you so far. You could be the happiest Pollyanna ever, but how will they
know? If your first comment is a complaint, you’re a griper. If your first words are rude, you’re a creep. If your first words are unpleasant, you’re a stinker. Open and shut.

Other than these downers, anything goes. Ask them where they’re from, how they know the host of the party, where they bought the lovely suit they’re wearing—or hundreds of etceteras. The trick is to ask your prosaic question with passion to get the other person talking.

Still feel a bit shaky on making the approach to strangers? Let’s take a quick detour on our road to meaningful communicating. I’ll give you three quickie techniques to meet people at parties— then nine more to make small talk not so small.

Why Banal Makes a Bond

Samuel I. Hayakawa was a college president, U.S. senator, and brilliant linguistic analyst of Japanese origin. He tells us this story that shows the value of, as he says, “unoriginal remarks.”11

In early 1943—after the attack on Pearl Harbor at a time when there were rumors of Japanese spies—Hayakawa had to wait several hours in a railroad station in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. He noticed others waiting in the station were staring at him suspiciously. Because of the war, they were apprehensive about his presence. He later wrote, “One couple with a small child was staring with special uneasiness and whispering to each other.”

So what did Hayakawa do? He made unoriginal remarks to set them at ease. He said to the husband that it was too bad the train should be late on so cold a night. The man agreed.

“I went on,” Hayakawa wrote, “to remark that it must be especially difficult to travel with a small child in winter when train schedules were so uncertain. Again the husband agreed. I then asked the child’s age and remarked that their child looked very big and strong for his age. Again agreement, this time with a slight smile. The tension was relaxing.”

After two or three more exchanges, the man asked Hayakawa, “I hope you don’t mind my bringing it up, but you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Do you think the Japs have any chance of winning this war?”

“Well,” Hayakawa replied, “your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know any more than I read in the papers. But the way I figure it, I don’t see how the Japanese, with their lack of coal and steel and oil . . . can ever beat a powerfully industrialized nation like the United States.”

Hayakawa went on, “My remark was admittedly neither original nor well informed. Hundreds of radio commentators . . . were saying much the same thing during those weeks. But just because they were, the remark sounded familiar and was on the right side so that it was easy to agree with.”

The Wisconsin man agreed at once with what seemed like genuine relief. His next remark was, “Say, I hope your folks aren’t over there while the war is going on.”

“Yes, they are,” Hayakawa replied. “My father and mother and two young sisters are over there.”

“Do you ever hear from them?” the man asked.

“How can I?” Hayakawa answered.

Both the man and his wife looked troubled and sympathetic. “Do you mean you won’t be able to see them or hear from them until after the war is over?”

There was more to the conversation but the result was, within ten minutes they had invited Hayakawa—whom they initially may have suspected was a Japanese spy—to visit them sometime in their city and have dinner in their home. And all because of this brilliant scholar’s admittedly common and unoriginal small talk. Top communicators know the most soothing and appropriate first words should be, like Senator Hayakawa’s, unoriginal, even banal.

But not indifferent. Hayakawa delivered his sentiments with sincerity and passion.

“What’s a Good Opening Line When I Meet People?”

Once while at a party, I spotted a fellow surrounded by a fan club of avid listeners. The chap was smiling, gesticulating, and obviously enthralling his audience. I went over to hearken to this fascinating speaker. I joined his throng of admirers and eavesdropped for a minute or two. Suddenly, it dawned on me: the fellow was saying the most banal things! His script was dull, dull, dull. Ah, but he was delivering his prosaic observations with such passion, and therefore, he held the group spellbound. It convinced me that it’s not all what you say, it’s how you say it.



I am often asked this question, and I give them the same answer a woman who once worked in my office always gave me. Dottie often stayed at her desk to work through lunch. Sometimes, as I was leaving for the sandwich shop, I’d ask her, “Hey Dottie, what can I bring you back for lunch?”

Dottie, trying to be obliging, would say, “Oh anything is fine with me.”

“No, Dottie!” I wanted to scream. “Tell me what you want. Ham ’n’ cheese on rye? Bologna on whole wheat, hold the mayo? Peanut butter ’n’ jelly with sliced bananas? Be specific. ‘Anything’ is a hassle.”

Frustrating though it may be, my answer to the opening-line question is “Anything!” because almost anything you say really is OK—as long as it puts people at ease and sounds passionate.

How do you put people at ease? By convincing them they are OK and that the two of you are similar. When you do that, you break down walls of fear, suspicion, and mistrust.

Matching Their Mood Can Make or Break the Sale (technique No 10)

Matching customers’ moods is crucial for salespeople. Some years ago, I decided to throw a surprise party for my best friend Stella. It was going to be a triple-whammy party because she was celebrating three events. One, it was Stella’s birthday. Two, she was newly engaged. And three, Stella had just landed her dream job. She had been my buddy since grade school, and I was floating on air over her birthday-engagement-congratulations bash.

I had heard one of the best French restaurants in town had an attractive back room for parties. About 5 p.m. one afternoon, I wafted happily into the restaurant and found the seated maitre d’ languidly looking over his reservation book. I began excitedly babbling about Stella’s triple-whammy celebration and asked to see that fabulous back room I’d heard so much about. Without a smile or moving a muscle, he said, “Zee room ees een zee back. You can go zee eet eef you like.”

CRASH. What a party pooper! His morose mood kicked all the party spirit out of me, and I no longer wanted to rent his stupid space. Before I even looked at the room, he lost the rental. I left his restaurant vowing to find a place where the management would at least appear to share the joy of the happy occasion.

Every mother knows this instinctively. To quiet a whimpering infant, Mama doesn’t just shake her finger and shout, “Quiet down.” No, Mama picks baby up. Mama cries, “Ooh, ooh, oh,” sympathetically matching baby’s misery for a few moments. Mama then gradually transitions the two of them into hush-hush happy sounds. Your listeners are all big babies! Match their mood if you want them to stop crying, start buying, or otherwise come ’round to your way of thinking.

Technique #10

Make a Mood Match

Before opening your mouth, take a “voice sample” of your listener to detect his or her state of mind. Take a “psychic photograph” of the expression to see if your listener looks buoyant, bored, or blitzed. If you ever want to bring people around to your thoughts, you must match their mood and voice tone, if only for a moment.

How to Start Great Small Talk

You’ve been there. You’re introduced to someone at a party or business meeting. You shake hands, your eyes meet . . . and suddenly your entire body of knowledge dries up and thought processes come to a screeching halt. You fish for a topic to fill the awkward silence. Failing, your new contact slips away in the direction of the cheese tray.

We want the first words falling from our lips to be sparkling, witty, and insightful. We want our listeners to immediately recognize how riveting we are. I was once at a gathering where everybody was sparkling, witty, insightful, and riveting. It drove me berserk because most of these same everybodies felt they had to prove it in their first ten words or less!

Several years ago, the Mensa organization, a social group of extremely bright individuals who score in the country’s top 2 percent in intelligence, invited me to be a keynote speaker at their annual convention. Their cocktail party was in full swing in the lobby of the hotel as I arrived. After checking in, I hauled my bags through the hoard of happy-hour Mensans to the elevator. The doors separated and I stepped into an elevator packed with party goers. As we began the journey up to our respective floors, the elevator gave several sleepy jerks.

“Hmm,” I remarked, in response to the elevator’s sluggishness, “the elevator seems a little flaky.” Suddenly, each elevator occupant, feeling compelled to exhibit his or her 132-plus IQ, pounced forth with a thunderous explanation. “It’s obviously got poor rail-guide alignment,” announced one. “The relay contact is not made up,” declared another. Suddenly I felt like a grasshopper trapped in a stereo speaker. I couldn’t wait to escape the attack of the mental giants.

Afterward, in the solitude of my room, I thought back and reflected that the Mensans’ answers were, indeed, interesting. Why then did I have an adverse reaction? I realized it was too much, too soon. I was tired. Their high energy and intensity jarred my sluggish state.

You see, small talk is not about facts or words. It’s about music, about melody. Small talk is about putting people at ease. It’s about making comforting noises together like cats purring, children humming, or groups chanting. You must first match your listener’s mood.

Like repeating the note on the music teacher’s harmonica, top communicators pick up on their listener’s tone of voice and duplicate it. Instead of jumping in with such intensity, the Mensans could have momentarily matched my lethargic mood by saying, “Yes, it is slow, isn’t it?” Had they then prefaced their information with, “Have you ever been curious why an elevator is slow?” I would have responded with a sincere “Yes, I have.” After a moment of equalized energy levels, I would have welcomed their explanations about the rail-guard alignment or whatever the heck it was. And friendships might have started.

I’m sure you’ve suffered the aggression of a mood mismatch. Have you ever been relaxing when some overexcited, hot-breathed colleague starts pounding you with questions? Or the reverse: you’re late, rushing to a meeting, when an associate stops you and starts lazily narrating a long, languorous story. No matter how interesting the tale, you don’t want to hear it now.


The first step in starting a conversation without strangling it is to match your listener’s mood, if only for a sentence or two. When it comes to small talk, think music, not words. Is your listener adagio or allegro? Match that pace. I call it “Make a Mood Match.”

Is Small-Talk-a-Phobia Curable?

Someday, scientists say, communications fears may be treatable with drugs. They’re already experimenting with Prozac to change people’s personalities. But some fear disastrous side effects. The good news is that when human beings think, and genuinely feel, certain emotions—like confidence that they have specific techniques to fall back on—the brain manufactures its own antidotes. If fear and distaste of small talk is the disease, knowing solid techniques like the ones we explore in this section is the cure.

Incidentally, science is beginning to recognize it’s not chance or even upbringing that one person has a belly of butterflies and another doesn’t. In our brains, neurons communicate through chemicals called neurotransmitters. Some people have excessive levels of a neurotransmitter called norepinephrine, a chemical cousin of adrenaline. For some children, just walking into a kindergarten room makes them want to run and hide under a table.

As a tot, I spent a lot of time under the table. As a preteen in an all-girls boarding school, my legs turned to linguine every time I had to converse with a male. In eighth grade, I once had to invite a boy to our school prom. The entire selection of dancing males lived in the dormitory of our brother school. And I only knew one resident, Eugene. I had met Eugene at summer camp the year before. Mustering all my courage, I decided to call him.

Two weeks before the dance, I felt the onset of sweaty palms. I put the call off. One week before, rapid heartbeat set in. I put the call off. Finally, three days before the big bash, breathing became difficult. Time was running out.

The critical moment, I rationalized, would be easier if I read from a script. I wrote out the following: “Hi, this is Leil. We met at camp last summer. Remember?” (I programmed in a pause where I hoped he would say “yes.”) “Well, National Cathedral School’s prom is this Saturday night and I’d like you to be my date.” (I programmed in another pause where I prayed he’d say “yes.”)

On Thursday before the dance, I could no longer delay the inevitable. I picked up the receiver and dialed. Clutching the phone waiting for Eugene to answer, my eyes followed perspiration droplets rolling down my arm and dripping off my elbow. A small salty puddle was forming around my feet. “Hello?” a sexy, deep male voice answered the dorm phone.

In faster-than-a-speeding-bullet voice, like a nervous novice telemarketer, I shot out, “Hi, this is Leil. We-met-at-camp—lastsummer-remember?” Forgetting to pause for his assent, I raced on, “Well-National-Cathedral-School’s-prom-is-this-Saturday-nightand-I’d-like-you-to-be-my-date.”

To my relief and delight, I heard a big, cheerful “Oh that’s great, I’d love to!” I exhaled my first normal breath all day. He continued, “I’ll pick you up at the girl’s dorm at 7:30. I’ll have a pink carnation for you. Will that go with your dress? And my name is Donnie.”

Donnie? Donnie! Who said anything about Donnie?

Well, Donnie turned out to be the best date I had that decade. Donnie had buckteeth, a head full of tousled red hair, and communications skills that immediately put me at ease.

On Saturday night, Donnie greeted me at the door, carnation in hand and grin on face. He joked self-deprecatingly about how he was dying to go to the prom so, knowing it was a case of mistaken identity, he accepted anyway. He told me he was thrilled

when “the girl with the lovely voice” called, and he took full responsibility for “tricking” me into an invitation. Donnie made me comfortable and confident as we chatted. First we made small talk and then he gradually led me into subjects I was interested in. I flipped over Donnie, and he became my very first boyfriend.

Donnie instinctively had the small-talk skills that we are now going to fashion into techniques to help you glide through small talk like a hot knife through butter. When you master them, you will be able—like Donnie—to melt the heart of everyone you touch.

The goal of How to Talk to Anyone is not, of course, to make you a small-talk whiz and stop there. The aim is to make you a dynamic conversationalist and forceful communicator. However, small talk is the first crucial step toward that goal.

How to Know What to Say After You Say “Hi”

Just as the first glimpse should please their eyes, your first words should delight their ears. Your tongue is a welcome mat embossed with either “Welcome” or “Go Away!” To make your conversation partner feel welcome, you must master small talk.

Small talk! Can you hear the shudder? Those two little words drive a stake into the hearts of some otherwise fearless and undaunted souls. Invite them to a party where they don’t know anyone, and it mainlines queasiness into their veins.

If this sounds familiar, take consolation from the fact that the brighter the individual, the more he or she detests small talk. When consulting for Fortune 500 companies, I was astounded. Top executives, completely comfortable making big talk with their boards of directors or addressing their stockholders, confessed they felt like little lost children at parties where the pratter was less than prodigious.

Small-talk haters take further consolation from the fact that you are in star-studded company. Fear of small talk and stage fright are the same thing. The butterflies you feel in your stomach when you’re in a roomful of strangers flutter ’round the tummies of top performers. Pablo Casals complained of lifelong stage fright. Carly Simon curtailed live performances because of it. A friend of mine who worked with Neil Diamond said he insisted the words to “Song Sung Blue,” a tune he’d been crooning for forty years, be displayed on his teleprompter, lest fear freeze him into forgetfulness.