Social Inertia and the Game of Conversation

So there you are, standing next to the car in which you've managed to lock the keys. You've just spent the last half-hour trying to open the door with a wire coat hanger that you spent the hour previous to that tracking down in the nearby stores. Eventually, you throw away the hanger in frustration and ask a passerby if you can borrow his cell phone to call for help.

The passerby looks at you and your car and says sagely, "You should just get a coat hanger and fish the lock open yourself. It's easy."

Cut to a few days later. You're just about to start doing inventory at work. You've got a system down and you know just what you need to do. Your new boss comes in and suggests a new way of doing it, which, in fact, is a way you've tried before, and it doesn't work. Your way is better, but it's going to take a good while to explain and convince your boss of this, and if you do, you're never going to get done on time.

In both of these cases, sometimes you just decide that it's easier to smile and nod rather than to try to explain to people why they're wrong, why their original idea isn't actually so original (or good), or why they really don't know what they're talking about. Sometimes you just don't have the time, and sometimes you just don't have the patience.

This seems to happen to me a lot. I call it "social inertia."

Now, I suppose in a perfect world (and if I was a better person), I'd always take the time to explain to the other person why I don't think the suggestion is right for the situation, or that yes, I have heard that joke before, or whatever. But it's not my job to coddle, inform, or enrich each person that I come across. I also suppose that if everyone acted like me, it would only encourage obnoxious people to spout their ill-informed views wherever they go. Oh well.

Not that you could ever really hope to get obnoxious people to shut up, anyway. If conversation were a game, there are a lot of people who think that the way to win is to be the one who talks the most. If you're one of those people, the rest of us didn't want to break this to you -- or we never got the chance, because you're always talking -- but you're playing with the wrong victory conditions.

If you take the time to observe people in their conversations, you learn a very subtle thing. It's the people who ask questions and listen a lot who actually control the conversation. The people who do all the talking are so busy, well, talking, that they don't learn anything new, they don't control the flow of the conversation, and they rarely take the time to notice that they are boring the people around them to tears. I imagine that they walk away believing the people they've just lectured all think they're the greatest, when in fact the opposite may well be true.

Now, of course, there are obvious exceptions to this. Sometimes, people find themselves in a situation where others want to listen to them speak at length. These people, however, are often lecturers, teachers, DMs, or expert storytellers -- and even they (if they know what they're doing) spend some of their time listening as well as talking.

I like to watch my wife Sue in conversations with others. She's the kind of person who asks a lot of questions of others and clearly listens to what they say. She always laughs at the right time when she hears a joke, or exclaims at the right moment when someone tells a surprising story. In short, she's an expert conversationalist. And oh, do people take advantage of this -- or at least, that's how it might appear. After hearing someone new blather on about themselves, though, Sue leaves each conversation with a pretty good idea of what the other person is like. They, on the other hand, have no idea what Sue is like, but probably react favorably to her because she listened and asked questions. If it's not someone new, Sue's still probably found out some important info from the other person, while all they've done is prattle on. In short, Sue wins the game every time.

Sue: Oh, Monte, you're exaggerating . . .

What's more -- as I mentioned -- someone who asks questions actually directs the flow of a conversation. The questioner, not the talker, determines what will be discussed (unless, of course, you're dealing with an obnoxious conversationalist who doesn't even wait for responses from someone else before changing the subject). The questioner goes away from the question with something new. The talker doesn't. It sounds like something that your fourth grade teacher told you, but it's true: You can only really learn if you're listening.

Sue: And where do you fit into this scheme?

Unlike Sue, I'm not a master conversationalist. I'm not terrible at it, but I get weary of the whole process -- that's why I am easily gripped with social inertia. I'd like to be better at it, but I think that being a writer is my downfall. See, as a writer, I sit alone at a keyboard and try to think of things that will be interesting to a reader (whether it's for a game, a piece of fiction, or a goofy piece like this). When I'm sitting with other people, I try to think of things that will be of interest to them. If I can't think of anything, I don't say anything. (And so, if I don't know the person, I can't possibly know what will be of interest, and thus I say nothing.) I suppose it's another type of social inertia. Is there a phobia that is a fear of being boring? If there is, I have that.

Sue: You sound as though you have to be the one entertaining people all the time. Can't they entertain you?

Maybe it's why I like being a DM. I've got an interested group of people sitting with me, both willing to listen and willing to run with the conversation, in character and out. I can't let myself become gripped with social inertia, because the players need me to explain things carefully. So I've got interesting things to say already planned out.

Sue: I guess that answers my question.

Or maybe it's why I like being a writer. I can take the time to craft my words and make sure what I'm writing is interesting. I don't have to worry about the give-and-take/back-and-forth nature of an actual conversation. In all but the most casual and comfortable contexts, I'd rather write than talk. I'm a better writer than talker, to be sure -- I'm much more likely to actually communicate a point by writing it. And I just hate miscommunication. Nothing's more frustrating.

Sue: That is frustrating.

It's also hard ending conversations. It's easy to end an essay.

You can do it just like this.