We Have Ways of Talking

A chaotic meal gave me the chance to explore my fascination with how people talk.

Last weekend, I found myself at a restaurant table with a large group of people I scarcely knew, an odd assortment of distant cousins and hangers on. Many of the people scarcely knew each other either.

It was such an uneasy mix of people that the waitress remarked that we must be planning a speed dating evening, and she offered to ring a bell to tell us when to move seats.

An awkward event indeed, but it did give me an opportunity to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes – observing how people talk. In this odd grouping, I noticed three conversational patterns.

The Ones Who Didn't Know How To Talk

When we arrived, there were three people already at the table. They did not look up when we arrived; they did not say hello. We took our seats and they continued to sit in silence.

I know people who are great at making sure everyone is introduced and that conversation is flowing. When I do it though, I'm more like a bulldozer. But I gave it a go anyway.

I introduced Husband and myself and asked them for their names, which they gave without further elaboration.

'Oh, you volunteered at my children's creative writing camp one,' I said to one of them.

'Yeah,' she said.

Conversation closed.

Photo by Kevin Curtis on Unsplash

Photo Description: A large group of people is eating at tables set close together. They look happy.

I took another look at these three non-talking souls. Beneath their heavy makeup, I saw very young skin. And I saw that they also didn't talk to each other either, until the luridly coloured liquid in their glasses was almost gone. These weren't rude people. These were simply people who had never been taught how to talk.

The Noisy Ones

Later on, we moved seats and sat facing the organiser of the meal. She had the gift of keeping up a fast flow of conversation. Though her conversation never left the realm of small talk, it was good for covering up silences.

This was a person who wanted to make sure that everyone got on. So, she winced when a noisy couple next to us began a row about a person called Charlotte. It was hard to tell whether this was the sort of swordplay rows that couples have when they're actually quite fond of each other, or a real row.

To break the tension, I remarked that I thought I was watching an episode of Coronation Street. Cue grateful laughter from the meal organiser.

The Quiet Ones

When our food arrived, we moved back to our original seats, opposite a father and daughter, who sat quietly, enjoying their food. I confess that in social situations, I find this quiet puzzling.

Are these people quiet because they feel left out? Because they're bored? Or because they're content. I can read books, but reading people is more of a challenge.

Part of me wishes they'd make more of an effort, which I know isn't fair, but the thought sneaks in just the same.

It's because I was brought up in a noisy house where creating a flow of conversation is considered a social virtue and silence is a badge of failure.

Reading the book Quiet by Susan Cain has helped me better understand how introverts work, but it didn't deal directly with the question of how to gauge a quiet person's mood at social gatherings, whether it is better to draw them out or leave them alone.

One book isn't going to suddenly make me more emotionally intelligent. I wish I knew why these people weren't more forthcoming. But when I went into bulldozer mode again and pelted his daughter with questions, she delivered plenty of warm, funny anecdotes about the elderly people she looked after, filled with wry amusement.

That's what's great about quiet people, the quality of their words, the quality of their attention. Proof that everyone brings their own flavour to the mix. And I hope that one day, the ones who don't know how to talk find their own flavour.