Chapter 5
The art of conversation consists of three things:
1) Listening
2) Asking the right questions
3) Observing closely the body language of the individuals
The purpose of conversation is to entertain not to instruct. Do not bore your listener with moral speeches, trivia, or platitudes.
One: Listening. Most people in conversation are planning ahead what they are going to say once the other person has stopped speaking. Refrain from such smallness of mind. Listen and respond to their remarks.
Two: Ask the right questions. There are two types of questions, open-ended and closed-ended questions. The former require more explanation than a one word response. Try not to sound like an interviewer or newspaper reporter asking rapid-fire questions. If you have failed to start an adequate conversation by asking open-ended questions, you may want to move on to a different subject or person.
Examples:
Open-ended question: What is your favorite type of dog?
Closed-ended question: Do you like cocker spaniels?
The former may open up a conversation whereas the latter will likely lead to a yes or no answer that may not bring out the best in your companion.
Three: Observing the body language of the conversational partner will let you know if he or she is getting bored. For more on body language, see Section 4 Chapter 7: Non-Verbal communication.
Practice exercises:
You are at a party and the hostess introduces her brother. Think of three questions you can ask to start a conversation.
Balancing the book on the tiny sink, Marie read to me as I stood in our cramped bathroom applying makeup. I peeked out the doorframe to see if everyone was listening.
Kat was on the couch, her feet tucked under her, wearing what appeared to be a black unitard, black leg-warmers and a headband with kitten ears.
Lisa hunched over a book. She wore the same clothes she’d worn to school earlier.
“We need to practice this.” A nervous bubble rose in my stomach as I applied my mascara. I was so uncouth and a lousy conversationalist. I remembered my failed attempt at the library with that hot guy. Oh, if only I’d had The Book then. Maybe I could’ve talked to the guy and had a real conversation. But instead, I made a fool of myself. But at least with a huge campus, I’d never see him again. At least I’d failed with a complete stranger.
“What’s our plan for the social?” Marie asked.
I nodded. This would be the real test. Real people. Real situation. Real failure. But possibly real success, too.
“We need a goal.” I took a last look at myself in the mirror. Shivers ran through me. This would be the first time my new self would be on display and not just going to classes. I would be trying myself out on a real, live social situation.
“Talk to at least three guys?” Marie suggested.
“That sounds fair.”
“Everybody game for that?” She poked her head out of the bathroom.
I peeked behind her.
Mewing, Kat purred and pretended to clean her ears and lick her paws.
Lisa snorted.
“Never mind.” Marie closed the book.
I held her hand and squealed with nervous anticipation.
The social was being held on the west end of the mall in the center of campus, near the historic admin building. The outdoor area sparkled with lights. At the far end was a portable stage set up with lights and a sound table. Masses of students mulled around. A few swayed to the music.
“This is the biggest club on campus.” Marie studied the crowd trying to find an in.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before we came?” I gulped at the size of the crowd. More students gathered here than attended my whole high school back home.
A cooler breath of night air filtered around the bodies dancing compactly near the stage. I tensed. I would have felt a lot more confident if I’d had more than a few practice conversations under my belt.
Finding a wall, Lisa sat and started reading her book. Right there, at a party.
Kat dissolved into the crowd.
Marie stopped me. “Okay, I’m going to be a hot guy. Come up and talk to me.”
I gripped her wrist. “You want to practice now?” I whispered hoarsely.
“Last minute.”
Pains constricted my chest. I was about to die, or pass out. “I don’t know what to say. Nice weather?”
She scowled at me. “You’re supposed to follow the rules from the book. If you don’t take this seriously, it won’t work, and we’re wasting our time.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What’s your major?”
Marie shook her head. “Closed-ended question. It only allows a one-word answer.”
“But I can follow up with other questions. Sometimes you have to find out free information first. In the book, the example wasn’t fair because you knew it was the hostess’s brother, and that was a little piece of information you could tuck away to start a conversation,” I almost whined.
Marie let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine! You can ask what you want.”
I didn’t feel quite as confident just then. I wondered if all these well-dressed students knew I was a fraud, that I’d only just learned to pluck my eyebrows and put on lipstick in the last two weeks. I felt rather silly next to all these girls who got it. Girls with short dresses and silky legs and styled hair. And the guys. They were everywhere. Good looking. Broad shouldered. Attractive. A bit of panic rose to my throat. I wanted to backpedal out of here. “Nobody noticed we’re here yet. We could quietly sneak out.” I backed toward the way we’d come.
“Where are you going?” Marie grabbed my shirt collar as I was sliding away. “You can’t leave. We haven’t talked to anyone yet.”
“I’m good. Just being in a place with all this”—I pointed to the crowd bouncing with the music—“is enough to influence me.” I flashed a tight-lipped smile.
Her brown eyes focused on mine. “We’re not going anywhere until we talk to at least three guys. Got it?”
I gulped for air. There were so many and most of them were already surrounded by girls, writhing and pressing against them. I wasn’t ready for this. It was too much.
I closed my eyes to listen and focus on just the music, to remember what we learned.
I opened my eyes. A tall broad-shouldered guy bounced in tune next to a well-groomed girl.
I squinted my eyes to cut the glare from all the lights. His plaid collared shirt stretched over his broad shoulders in an attractive way. And he had at least some rhythm as he was actually dancing on beat.
In a flash, he flipped his shaggy bangs away long enough for me to catch his eyes. They lit up when they caught mine. And he smiled.
A slash of heat went through my heart. The guy from the library! The cookbook guy. “Who’s that?” I asked.
Marie’s face lit. “Oh, my gosh! That’s Lincoln Patterson! He’s like the hottest guy at school. He’s in Advanced Physics class, and Martha Edwards said she heard from Nadia Sanchez who is from his hometown that he comes from a well-to-do family back East. His dad started a small business selling something and blah, blah…”
I stopped listening after well-to-do. There was no way I could talk to him. I grew up in a two-bedroom adobe house where my dad planted cactus around our windows to make sure we wouldn’t sneak out. Not that it was a temptation. Honeyvale didn’t have a nightlife other than getting drunk down by the river. Like I said, not a temptation.
A scratching sound in my head crossed him off my list. My gaze flitted elsewhere. A guy stood by himself off to the side of the crowd. A guy by himself wasn’t too intimidating to approach. I put him on my list. And he hovered next to a table full of nibblies. Even easier.
“…And he just came back from Spain.”
“Who?” I didn’t realize that Marie was still talking about the rich guy. I’d already forgotten his name. “I found my first victim, I mean, test subject.”
“Who?”
“That guy over there.” I gestured with my elbow so as not to attract attention. I so wished we’d gone through the whole book before actually stepping out in public. I could see now I needed so much more than one single course on conversation. I needed a whole semester of tutelage.
“I know him,” she said softly, barely above the music. Her eyes were unfocused and far away. “Go up to him and ask his name.”
“I can’t. It’s a closed-ended question.” My snark factor hit 100%.
“Just do it for me. This one doesn’t have to count. Go and find out whatever you can.” Marie hid behind a decorative bush.
I’ve never seen her so scared before, nervous, like a cat.
“All right, fine. I was planning on asking him anyway.” I trudged over to the refreshment table, but the guy had moved farther away. If he stood closer, I could’ve talked to him easier.
A girl approached the table.
Inhaling, I waited for her to leave so she wouldn’t witness my first attempt.
She stood over the corn chips, shaking her head. “These have, like, five grams of saturated fat in them. I can’t believe I’m eating them.” She loaded them up on a plate and munched away.
Obviously, she hadn’t studied the rules of conversation. What a stupid thing to say! Nobody cared about how many grams of fat were in anything. She needed to read the book.
A few munchies later, and I rallied enough courage for my first attempt.
Marie watched from behind the tree.
All of a sudden, my heart started racing. I couldn’t figure out why. Did I drink too much soda?
Gripping my plate, I scooted toward the guy.
He studied the crowd and didn’t even notice me. His body language was rather discouraging.
I stole another glance at Marie who waved me on. My mouth was dessert dry but I’d already started for the guy. I couldn’t stop.
Nerves rankled my body. I felt sick. As I approached him, my mind went blank. What was I supposed to say? I was close enough I would’ve been creeperish not to say something now. I was about to open my mouth.
He turned slightly away and stuffed his hands in his pocket.
Did he see I wanted to talk to him and was purposely avoiding me? My mind raced with rejection, and I had to fight every inclination to RUN AWAY! My mind screamed to leave but my body was frozen to the spot. Somewhere, maybe Marie willing it into my head, I heard the words, “ASK HIM SOMETHING.”
“Nice weather, eh?” I asked stupidly, morbidly staring at the back of his head. My mind always hit reset and went back to old habits when I was nervous. We should’ve practiced more.
He turned. “What?”
My thoughts couldn’t grasp ahold of anything we’d talked about. Finally, I lit upon something. “Did you know that there are five grams of saturated fat in these corn chips?”
What? Did that just come out of my mouth? Now I rattle off useless information?
“I didn’t know.” He seemed a little irritated, and he walked away.
I fumbled for recovery and heard someone behind me at the table. Thinking it was Marie out from hiding, I turned and said, “That was a bust!”
But as I turned, I realized a second too late that it wasn’t Marie. Patterson or whatever his name was, with the plaid shirt, stood over the corn chips.
His fringed eyes focused on me with the slightest amount of amusement.
Did he hear what happened?
Wild eyed and panicky both from the upsetting experience with Marie’s guy and now being face to face with such a hot guy before me, I got tongue-tied in the worst way. My tongue felt like a taffy melting in the hot sun. It felt like a dead weight at the bottom of my mouth. It would not move.
So I stared, feeling I must be the Queen of Awkward. My face burned like a hotplate, and I just wanted to get out of there! But my feet didn’t get the message. They stayed put, riveted to the floor.
Luckily my eyebrows still worked, and I raised them in sort of a questioning way, that may have looked like I needed to pee or cry.
“You look familiar. You a freshman?” He finally spoke, looking more curious than amused now popping popcorn into his mouth.
It was a terrible closed-ended question, and a brief thought flashed through my mind that maybe everyone needed to read The Book.
But at the moment, I was relieved because a yes or no question meant that I could nod or shake my head. I sorta bobbed my head up and down and smirked. I might have shrugged my shoulders, too. No way was I going to remind him we met in the library. That was my frumpy self.
“What’s your name?”
What a great question! I knew this one. But the thought of his dad being rich the fact that his shirt came from an expensive place in the mall instead of the discount sale section, made me painfully aware of my oddities and weirdness.
My lips parted; my tongue awoke to utter such prolific goodness. “Gabby,” I said, quite pleased I managed to get out anything at all, and after making sure it was indeed my name, I smiled with relief.
A few heartbeats passed. He thrust his hand forward. “My name’s Lincoln Patterson.”
“Lincoln, like, Abe Lincoln?” I’d never heard anyone with a first name that was a last name like his. I’d met plenty of Monroes, Madisons, Bennetts, Mackenzies to last a lifetime, but Abraham Lincoln?
“No.” His lips parted in a grin, showcasing his dimple. “Like Lincoln Continental.”
For a second, I stared in utter confusion as dumb as a flag pole. Lincoln Continental? Wasn’t that a car? Or maybe not? Was there some other moniker I was missing?
“It’s a joke.” But the smile had faded to mild amusement, and his focus returned to loading up on munchies.
I might have chuckled nervously. I was searching for something to say, something to get him to stay and talk to me. My mind canvassed my wrinkled gray mass, roiling in stray thoughts. Finally, it hit upon something. “Those chips have, like, five grams of saturated fat in them.”
With a toss of his hand, he threw a chip into his mouth. “That must be why they taste so good.” He raised his eyebrows, giving me a glance out of the side of his thickly lashed eyes and melted into the crowd.
I melted next to a bowl of Mike and Ikes. Hello! Conversation is to entertain not instruct. First rule and I blew it! I held onto the table for support. Why couldn’t I think of something funny to say? I can be witty. Five minutes too late.
Marie came to my rescue. More like to extinguish the flames from the crash and burn.
“Did you talk to him?” she asked.
“If by him you mean your mysterious man, no. I did talk to Lincoln Patterson. He asked me my name.” I felt a little stronger now that there were no men within ear shot. I found my voice, and strength returned to my frame. Why did guys scare me so much?
“Oh, you didn’t talk to him?” She scanned the crowd hoping to find him again. But after a thorough check, he was gone.
“Who was he?”
“Just some guy. I think he’s in my Nat Geo class.”
Kat came up behind Marie and was looking from me to someone over my head in an obvious way. I thought it was weird, but then Kat is always weird.
“Well, if it isn’t Gabby the Goat Girl,” said a voice behind me.
I froze.
I’d know that voice anywhere. I whirled.
Could this night get any worse?
Kat huddled behind me like a scared child.
“Hello, Beau,” I said.
Beau Richards stood at a full six-three and was all muscle. He might have grown since high school, and he still looked as hot as ever. Unfortunately, he seemed to still be the biggest jerk ever. I lost my voice, somehow, in my throat.
“You here with somebody?” He tugged on a girl behind him and brought her into my full view.
Her arms dangled with the latest fashion bracelets. Her plump lips were shimmery with gloss. Her eyes were covered in smokey eyeshadow. And her outfit—I swear I saw it on the cover of a fashion magazine.
She reached up to catch a stray hair. But even in that small action, she was gorgeous, well-trimmed, and in command of her body.
If I did the same action it would look dowdy, incompetent, and unkempt.
“I came with some roommates,” plopped out of my mouth, pleased I was not the loner I was in high school. Then I blushed when I realized why he was asking the question. He wanted to know if I was with a boy.
“I’m sorry, I should introduce you two. This is my girlfriend, Tia.”
I waved from my hip where my hands were hanging like two rubber hoses.
“So you here to pad your resume?”
I didn’t know what to say. That was a horrible question!
He continued, “This service club is a great place to make connections. Everybody who’s anybody is here, but then it makes me wonder why you’re here.”
The evil glint in his eye aimed a thousand daggers at my heart. Oh, and I felt every single one of them. I swallowed hard. I opened my mouth.
The music stopped and the microphone screamed. A woman stood front and center stage. “I’m Ms. Reaper, the club’s advisor. Thank you all for coming tonight.” A huge rush of applause drowned out any other conversation.
“Well, good seeing you.” Beau turned and lead Tia toward the stage with a hand on the small of her back where her tank top barely hit her shorts.
Good riddance. I relaxed.
“What a jerk!” Marie put her arms around my shoulders. “You need to tell him off.”
I brushed her off. I could never stand up to him.
Ms. Reaper fisted the microphone. “Thank you for your support for our charitable work. For the past twenty years, we have raised the largest amount for our national charity. But that doesn’t happen on its own. We need someone to make it happen. We need to elect a club president. This is a person whom we all trust, respect, and admire—someone who is responsible and reliable. We’ll do this caucus-style since there are so many of you. Who would like to open the floor with a nomination?”
A man in a dark green blazer, crazy red hair, and dark denim jeans jumped to the microphone. “I’d like to nominate my good friend, Lincoln Patterson.”
The crowd went wild with applause and screams.
Ms. Reaper invited Lincoln to come up on stage.
Then Tia nominated Beau after he prodded her.
Ms. Reaper encouraged more participation. “Remember, this person is responsible for choosing his cabinet to help raise enough money to donate back to the charitable cause. The president helps organize all three fundraisers.”
People clapped.
The two guys stood on the stage.
Ms. Reaper addressed the crowd again. “Come on, women. You going to let the men run things?”
Then out of nowhere, Kat yelled my name.
A murmur went through the crowd.
Numb, all I heard was people wondering who I even was.
“Who?” Ms. Reaper squinted into the crowd.
“Right here!” Kat pushed me toward the stage. “I nominate Gabby VanGunderson.”
I was in a daze. I focused on breathing. And blinking. All my subconscious actions became conscious.
I could’ve killed Kat for her crazy impulsiveness. Why me? I stepped up to the stage with a beating heart and a flushed face.
I stood next to the boys. My face contorted. I felt sick.
“Thank you!” Ms. Reaper continued in the mic. “We will now hear from each of our contenders. Share with us your vision for the club.” She held the mic for Lincoln.
Pushing away the mic, Lincoln politely acquiesced with a wink in my direction. “Ladies first.”
The microphone was shoved in my face.
The crowd grew silent.
The light shined in my eyes, and I couldn’t see Marie and Kat in the crowd.
Lisa on the back short wall looked up from her book.
I had never thought about what I’d like to see in the club, and now I had a chance to make something happen. I looked out to the faces staring up at me.
I froze.
Was there a public speaking section in the book? I don’t know. I wish I’d read the whole blasted thing before venturing out in public. I finally found Marie who was next to Kat. She nodded encouragingly.
“My vision for the club,” I faltered. But then I started gaining traction. This was something I felt passionate about. “I see building bridges of trust through the community and around the world. Sharing our resources. We are at a time in our lives when we have so much to give. I want to tap that natural resource.”
Egad! I handed the microphone to Ms. Reaper. Did that even make sense? I think I stole that from a book somewhere.
I didn’t hear what the other two contenders said, focusing on what I’d said, replaying it over in mind, wishing I’d said something different, something more brilliant, or more substantial. I caught the tail end of Lincoln, who was getting a vast amount of applause.
Ms. Reaper held the microphone again. “Since it’s such a large crowd, for the voting process I’ll ask you to stand near the snack table for Beau, by the entrance for Lincoln or by the stage for Gabby.”
Students migrated across the floor. The gathering crowd at the entrance for Lincoln was mostly the put-together girls, giggling and high-fiving each other. The group continued to grow.
Beau’s looked like the jock corner with a few friends of Tia’s.
Kat and Marie stood together at the stage. Really? Not one other person? I laughed at myself and shrugged my shoulders. Before they started counting, I yelled, “I concede!” And jumped off the stage. Several laughs greeted me, but then I had to choose who to vote for.
Marie and Kat joined Lincoln’s many supporters, but the groups looked equal without counting. I didn’t want to join Lincoln to look like a sheep. I turned to Beau’s group. On principle I couldn’t go to Beau’s. He’d think I wasn’t over him. And he called me Gabby the Goat Girl. I was alone in the middle of the floor, wishing I could abstain from voting.
Lincoln caught my eye. A friendly smile broke his lips, and he tilted his head to invite me to join him.
I smiled back and ran to join his crowd.
The last year’s club presidency counted heads. The ending tally was 62-63 in favor of Lincoln.
Ms. Reaper took up the microphone again for congratulations as people patted and high-fived Lincoln and congratulated him.
The other positions were chosen—Beau as vice president and as secretary, Li Chang. And Monica Rodriguez as Treasurer.
Ms. Reaper concluded the meeting. “Sign-ups are here for the committees. We have three fundraisers this semester.
“The president will be looking for committee chairs to run the fundraisers this year. We’re going to do something a little different. We are going to have a competition to see which committee can raise the most money. And whichever group raises the most money wins the opportunity to travel to Washington, DC to petition the national charity for a grant to start their own non-profit.”
A gasp went through the crowd. Then people murmured.
I elbowed Marie. “Why is the grant such a big deal?”
“People usually have to write grants and wait for years to get funding for a non-profit. Think of what having a successful non-profit would look like on a grad school application!”
So all these people were just social climbers. I shook my head. “What kind of non-profit would you do, Marie?”
“I’d totally love to work with troubled kids in toxic relationships. So many girls these days end up in abusive relationships. I’d love to be able to help them identify relationship red flags.”
Okay, so maybe not everyone was a social climber. But I wondered why half of these people wanted to have their own non-profit.
Marie, Kat, and I signed a paper with a few names and left our contact info.
I danced liked I had to wee. “Can we hightail it out of here? Enough social interaction for one day. I hit my three guys.” If I counted Beau as my third guy. “Enough embarrassment, too!”
Someone patted me on my shoulder.
I turned.
Lincoln stood with our committee paper. “Hey, will you head this committee?”
My heartbeat thundered through my skin. Trying to appear cool through my burning face, I shrugged. “Sure. What do I have to do?”
Dimples again. “You’ll be in charge of coming up with the winter fundraiser, the last one of the semester. Each group has one. Just connect with the members in your group and meet together and discuss what you want to do. You’ll report back to me.”
“Okay.” I took the paper, still staring at his dimples.
“She’ll need your phone number.” Marie flashed me a smile.
He uncapped the pen. “Oh, right.” He wrote something on the paper.
I held it without reading it.
He capped his pen and stared for a second. “What you did was really cool.”
“What did I do?” Looking like an idiot?
“Concede like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, everybody was laughing at me, didn’t you notice?”
A flash of light flamed in his eyes. “No, they were laughing with you. That was really cool. And because you were in my group, I won. So I guess I owe my win to you.”
My heart thundered like a Tucson rainstorm. I wasn’t used to being showered with so much attention from a guy. Surprisingly, I wasn’t feeling weird. He was really nice. “Any of those people could’ve been the winning vote,” I said flatly.
“Well, at any rate. Thanks for coming over. We’ll be in touch.” Was it my imagination or was he a little deflated?
What went wrong? He was all starry and then, weirdness. I said goodbye and left the lighted area. I finally glanced down and read what Lincoln wrote. His number was on the top of the paper along with thank you.
* * *
“Well,I’d say that was a complete and utter failure.” I flopped on the couch, tossing my feet up to the coffee table, and wondering if I could drown myself with a bottle of soda and a bowl.
Marie sat primly in the overstuffed chair, her back straight. “What do you mean? You got Lincoln’s number.”
I remembered my posture and sat up a little straighter, so I wasn’t slouching. And removed my feet from the table. “Yeah, so I can report the service committee actions.”
“But he picked you.”
“To organize a fundraiser.” I wasn’t letting her optimism cheer me up.
“Not just a fundraiser. It’s a competition.” She got plates for our late-night snacks.
“Wait, it is against each other?” Somehow I’d missed that.
“Read here.” Marie handed me the paper with the names and Lincoln’s phone number. I never read past his number.
Underneath Lincoln’s number was the committee directives.
Winter fundraiser. Competition. Winning committee will have the privilege to attend the Annual Charity Ball in Washington, DC and bragging rights.
I tossed the paper to the coffee table. “Why do they have it as a competition? That’s so silly. I don’t want to compete. We’re raising money for the cause, right? We all win.” But if we won and went to DC, I could see Mikaela, show her how I’d changed. I would never be able to afford a ticket to see her otherwise.
Handing me a plate, Marie shrugged. “Beau is heading up a committee.”
“As well as being VP?” Taking the plate, I arched an eyebrow. He was the most ambitious and competitive person I knew. And he would like nothing more than to grind my face in my losing.
“It’s on,” I said to Marie. I didn’t care how much money we made. We didn’t even have to win, we just had to beat Beau’s committee.
As I looked into the melamine service ware, a moment of clarity came into focus. I had a new purpose, a new goal. At least I knew what I wanted. Get to DC. And I wanted to be the type of girl who wouldn’t let boys scare her so bad as to render her useless. Around other guys I wasn’t afraid of, I was fine, but this was the big leagues. I needed to figure out how to get over my nerves. How to stop being intimidated. Especially by Beau.