I want to share an encouraging truth with you. As you practice the various conversation techniques, of course, you will find each exchange more comfortable. But until you’re feeling pretty positive about your cool communicating, keep in mind that you don’t always have to talk to make a good impression.
Just a few months after my friend Daffy’s life-changing eye contact training, we were talking on the phone about it. “Daf, I cannot tell you how easy it is now to look at all my passengers. Bingo—right in the eyes!”
As I was blithering on, Daffy got that familiar “I’ve-got-something-up-my-sleeve” sound in her voice.
“Can you come over in about an hour?” she asked.
“Well, sure, but…” She’d already hung up.
When I arrived, Daffy notified me, “Today you’re taking your next step toward your doctorate in confidence.” I could tell that she was enjoying playing her new role as my therapist.
“My mother is giving a small luncheon party today and…” Terror must have filled my face, because she continued, “Don’t worry, Leil, it won’t be so bad. This time, in addition to eye contact, I want you to listen carefully to whoever is speaking. Then you will smile and nod when appropriate.”
“But I can’t make small talk with strangers, just like that.”
“Here’s the beauty of it, Leil. You won’t have to. My mom volunteers for an organization that orients new immigrants. Today is a welcome lunch for fourteen of them, and I don’t think even one speaks English. So, don’t you see? The pressure is off. You don’t have to say a word. Just smile, act friendly, and look them in the eyes.”
We arrived at a bustling Greek tavern, and it seemed that everyone was talking simultaneously in a language that was, well, Greek to me. Daphnis’s mother was sitting at a large table with the new arrivals. Daffy gave her a kiss on the cheek and introduced me. Her mother suggested that I sit near her because I didn’t speak any Greek.
Daffy winked. “Absolutely not. I’m putting Leil right over there between Leonidas and Scopas.” I felt as though I was being abandoned in a cage with lions.
When we were introduced, they smiled broadly. I smiled weakly.
“Don’t worry,” Daffy whispered to me, “I told them you didn’t speak Greek. I’m going over to sit with Mom now.”
“Daf, don’t leave me!” But she was gone.
The waiter put a strange dish in front of me that looked like octopus with some kind of cold sauce. In sign language, Leonidas asked me if I liked it. I managed to swallow the slimy thing while nodding my head dramatically. I even clapped my hands softly to show that I loved it.
I couldn’t believe how relaxed I was getting. My self-appointed, nonaccredited therapist would be proud of me. For the first time while sitting at a table with a group of people, I didn’t want to be invisible. In fact, I sat up tall, pushed my hair back, and even smiled at one of the good-looking Greek guys at the other end of table.
Then it got hairy. The hot Greek excused himself from his dinner partners and headed straight toward me. I panicked. What if he speaks English? What if I have to talk to him?
He bowed graciously and introduced himself in Greek. Daffy raced to the rescue. He spoke briefly to her, and Daffy beamed at me. “Leil, Tylissus wants to ask you for a date.”
“Who wants to do what?”
“He’s serious.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Daf! Tell him that’s very nice of him. I’m flattered. But, Daf, tell him I’m married. Tell him I have a communicable disease. Tell him anything!”
Daffy somehow extricated me. As the party grew to a close, everyone took my hand, smiled at me, and said “good-bye” in Greek. Because I was a warm, receptive listener, the fact that no sounds came out of my mouth was hardly noticeable. Most of them didn’t even know that I didn’t speak a word of Greek.
On the way back to Daffy’s place, I announced that I didn’t feel at all uneasy at the party.
“Of course not!” she said. “Nobody expected you to say anything.”
That whacked me like a killer wave. She was right! I didn’t have to perform. No one expected me to speak. And no one was going to judge me by what I said.
Shys, you would have the same experience if your luncheon companions didn’t speak English. You wouldn’t fear that you’d say something stupid or inappropriate. If they were strangers and you knew you wouldn’t see them again, you’d feel more relaxed.
Well, guess what? Even when everyone in a group is speaking crystal-clear English, and some of them know you, you are not expected to perform. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. But you must listen, smile, and nod. That flags your friendliness. The more nods and smiles you bestow on them, the better personality they’ll know you have.
I have a good friend, Nate. Nate doesn’t talk much. But whenever I tell him anything, he gives me an enormous grin and says “Really?” or “That’s great”—as though my lame comment really were. It is such a pleasure being around Nate. A beautiful and brilliant attorney, Deborah, apparently thinks so, too. They just got married.
I once asked Deborah how they’d met. She told me Nate was one of her clients. “I’d never met such a good listener. He’s so much fun,” she said. “And he has that big goofy smile.” I knew she meant “lovable.”