I think this is a pretty good model. I study these interactions every morning at work, when my goal is to get to my office as quickly as possible without being registered as aloof or unfriendly. I answer the ‘how are you’ as perfunctorily as possible, or sometimes I try to invest a little thought into an answer that is friendly and sincere but unlikely to add any more seconds such as, ‘crazy busy!’ or, ‘trying to get some work done before my meeting at 2’.
When I’m asking the ‘how are you’, I hold my breath hoping the person doesn’t make a bid for a more meaningful interaction. Sometimes it can’t be helped—if the person’s basement flooded over the weekend, and they want to talk, I’ll re-prioritize my morning a little. But I definitely don’t want to get trapped small-talking with someone who just has more free time than I do.(Obviously this morning I have some free time.)
I have been on the other side. Last year I was in a tornado, and I wanted to talk about it with everyone, to try and get over the shock and put such a rare one-off event in perspective. I was amazed by the fraction of people who were able to dismiss this bid, usually just by sharing a couple sentences about the time they were somewhat near a tornado or saying, ‘wow’. After just two exchanges, I saved face thereafter by choosing language that suggested I was only near a tornado, so the other person could talk about tornadoes only if they wanted to.
Last year I was in a tornado, and I wanted to talk about it with everyone, to try and get over the shock and put such a rare one-off event in perspective. I was amazed by the fraction of people who were able to dismiss this bid
(nods) Yup. For about a year after my stroke, I was pretty much unable to talk about anything else, for similar reasons.
Eventually I got into the habit of letting people make conversational overtures, then dropping the stroke into my response (not unlike I just did, come to think of it). Some people would then talk to me about my stroke, some would continue along their primary path, and it all worked out reasonably well.
Eventualier this would evolve into a funny dynamic where several minutes into a conversation I’d make a passing reference to my stroke and they’d be like “WHAT? Talk about burying the lede, dude!” (Coming out to childhood friends is funny this way, also. “Husband? What? Huh?”)
Is being in a tornado even remotely like it’s portrayed in movies?
Is being in a tornado even remotely like it’s portrayed in movies?
One obvious difference is that you don’t have an aerial view. Instead of seeing a well-developed twister moving erratically, it was actually too dark and stormy to see anything. A consequence of this is that the sensual experience of it was dominated by sound. First a peculiar roaring (is that...? What is that?) and then a realization of the path of the sound, and that it is moving towards you...
A less obvious difference is how singled out you feel, it’s a psychological impression. In a movie, you expect interesting things to happen to the main characters. In real life, it was really shocking to us that we were the main characters in this experience that felt like a movie.
My family is religious but I was satisfied with how rational we were. There was some idle speculation or joking at first that it was an act of God, or God was trying to tell us something. But to whatever extent we were serious, it was more like a question or hypothesis that fizzled out when there weren’t any subsequent ‘messages’.
Did you irrationally feel singled out with your stroke? What parts of the experience did you want to tell about?
Yeah, absolutely, the “singled out” thing is big. I think a lot of people react this way to traumatic events… it’s different when it happens to us.
A lot of my reaction to trauma generally is this kind of split-screen emotionally dissociative thing where I am simultaneously having irrational reactions and being aware that my reactions are irrational, and neither branch seems to do much to influence the other. So I was often in a superposition of “I am the only person to ever experience this singular event and it is all very very meaningful” and “I am one of many people experiencing this all the time and it’s just a thing that happens.”
The parts of the experience I wanted to talk about varied… it was more that this was the most central aspect of my life for over two years, by a very hefty margin, so I thought about everything in terms of it. It’s a little bit like teenagers in a new relationship, or a lot of people after a bad divorce, where everything connects to that experience. Which is entirely understandable, but tedious for third parties.
I hear you about the religious family/act of God thing. My mom spent a lot of time agonizing over that. I eventually suggested to her that if she needed a narrative in which my stroke was a purposeful act, she should adopt the narrative that God sent me a recoverable-from stroke at 40 so I would start treating my hypertension and not have a fatal heart attack at 45. She decided that yes, that was a better narrative, and that was that.
The tornado thing sounds, well, really scary. I can imagine wanting to talk through that a lot of times—or not wanting to but needing to anyway. I’m curious why you felt you lost face by having your bid for synpathy turned down, that seems to reflect poorly on the other person, not you.
Anyway if you want to vent one more time to a stranger feel free to send me a direct message.
I’m curious why you felt you lost face by having your bid for sympathy turned down, that seems to reflect poorly on the other person, not you.
I felt like I lost some face, because they were rude to me and thus revealed the friendship was not that sincere, etc; but mostly I felt that I was creating a situation where they lost face because I’m sure they would rather not appear rude, but I didn’t leave an easy way out.
...This is why I actually stopped telling people I was in the tornado—it is very difficult for a friendly person not to offer some support, as you just did. Fortunately, I’ve had lots of time discussing all the details with other people that are fascinated by weather, and now my emotional state has just modulated into an interest in all kinds of extreme weather.
I’m curious why you felt you lost face by having your bid for synpathy turned down, that seems to reflect poorly on the other person, not you.
“I don’t find your distress worthy of my attention” suggests that the other person has higher status than the one in distress, since they can dismiss the bid without needing to expect censure from others.
Uh, what did you expect / hope that they would say instead? Not being sarcastic — I’m genuinely curious, since “wow” seems like it would be my response as well. Is that wrong? If so, why?
At the time, I wanted to discuss everything about the tornado—how it came upon us and what we were doing and how we survived, etc. I thought I had the most awesome topic of conversation ever, and had earned 10 minutes at least from every person I knew to discuss the details. I think people found the topic intimidating, because I would’ve had much more success seeding a conversation by mentioning if I had acquired a kitten over the holidays.
It was the lack of any follow-up questions after the ‘wow’.
Well, to be honest, if someone came to me and said “I was in a tornado!”, I’d love to respond by quizzing them about all the details, and listening with rapt attention. I mean, that sounds incredibly interesting.
But in my experience, most people who go through “traumatizing” experiences, or whatever, don’t respond well to such, instead preferring not to talk about it, or at most wishing to receive some bland platitudes to the effect that “wow, that must have been terrible! :( you must have felt so scared! :( ”. Which would sound rather insincere coming from me (and maybe from most people? I don’t know).
While I haven’t actually tried this with other people, I think an appropriate response to show your interest in hearing about it would be along the lines of “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?” in a tone that doesn’t sound like you’re pressuring them either way.
From the perspective of someone who has been through “traumatizing” experiences, clear indicators of interest/non-interest are important because the responses of potential people to talk to vary widely. For close friends I generally know how they’ll respond (and therefore who to ask if I need to talk things out with someone), but other than that it’s hard to tell.
To give some concrete examples: Some of my biological family members have been and still are often extremely difficult towards me, especially in person, in ways that are not relevant to the examples. This makes visiting those family members, which I am still obligated to do on every family visit I make, very unpleasant for me. When the subject of my feelings about those visits comes up in small talk situations (or really any not-close-friend-who-knows-what-to-expect situations), I try to minimize the sudden unhappy awkwardness while still being honest and giving the other person an idea of what topics to avoid should they not want to hear about it, then leave it up to them to indicate if they want to hear more or not. (I could explain my reasoning for this approach if anyone’s interested, but it’s also not relevant to the examples.)
In the past few months I had two conversations with other people, whom I shall call A and B, that illustrate the range of responses I get. I met both A and B in the same social group and had both conversations in similar contexts. At the time of each conversation, I considered my relationship with my interlocutor to be somewhere between “acquaintance” and “friend”; I saw them (in the “Hi”; “Hi” sense) about once a weekday, had conversed with them occasionally, and would have been willing to talk futher about my experience with my biological family with them had they shown interest. They had also given no prior indication of their receptiveness (or lack thereof) to such conversations. Here are the conversations (both were in person):
[‘handshake’ exchange] A: What did you do during [a recent time when I was away from that social group but A was not]? Me: I visited my family. A: How was that visit? Me: Not great, unfortunately; some of my family members are not the most pleasant for me to deal with. A: Oh? How so? [a few minutes of conversation about those family members’ behaviors towards me]
[‘handshake’ exchange] B: So what will you be doing over the holidays? Me: I’ll be visiting my family. B: Are you looking forward to it? Me: Some of my family members are not the most pleasant for me to deal with, so no, not really. B: Whoa! Too Much Information! [awkward pause, then subject change]
These are the most extreme responses I’ve seen, and I don’t recommend either of them, but they should give you an idea of what people get when looking for someone to talk to. Here’s what I do recommend (just from my own experiences and understanding of socializing):
Regardless of your level of interest in hearing more, acknowledge the other person’s experience in some way. After (or during) that, you can indicate your level of interest.
If you’re interested in hearing more and willing to listen at that moment, inquire if your interlocutor wants to talk further about it—thus my earlier recommendation of “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?”. This is implicitly offering to listen to them; something along the lines of “If you want to talk about it, I’d listen” also works. Possible responses:
If they just mentioned it for honesty’s sake and don’t want to talk about it, they can say “No” without pressure.
If they wanted to receive some platitudes or similar expressions of caring, well, offering to listen to them is a pretty good expression of caring. It also seems to me that offering to listen is less likely to be taken as insincere than most platitudes.
If they do want to talk about it, they can take you up on that offer.
There are other possible responses, such as “Not right now” and “No, but could you do [something distracting] with me?”, but those tend to explain themselves.
I would accept A’s response as an expression of interest, but I wouldn’t recommend it because it assumes that the other person wants to give more details. I’d accept it because it’s not probing or heavily pressuring, and it leaves the choice of what details to give in response up to the other person.
If you’re not interested in hearing more, possibly offer a platitude, then politely offer some way to get the conversation off the subject (subject change, etc.). If the experience seems to have seriously affected the person, you may want to direct them to other support resources.
I wouldn’t accept B’s response because it’s both awkward and insensitive:
Not offering some way to redirect the conversation is awkward,
Not acknowledging the other person’s experience is insensitive, and
Treating a fairly minimal response (just enough to be honest and indicate what topic to avoid if uninterested) as Too Much Information is both awkward and insensitive.
Better responses would include “Oh, ok. [subject change]” and “I’m sorry to hear that. [subject change]”.
If you can’t have a long conversation at that moment but would want to hear more later, would rather offer support in some other way, etc., then say so. This works much like the ‘interested in hearing more’ case.
A social advice resource that readers may find useful: (warning: some questions sent there are Not Safe For Work) Captain Awkward
I think I disagree with you on “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?” as a good response in cases like byrnema’s (and other cases I’ve personally run into). If you ask me that, and I take you up on it, the implication is that you’re doing me a favor by talking to me about this; you gain status and I lose status. I, for one, would prefer hearing some response that implies that you’re actually interested in talking to me about this, rather than that you’re talking to me because I want to talk about it.
Also, I strongly dislike Captain Awkward. I do not second the recommendation. (Others may not share my distaste, so ymmv.)
I agree that responses that imply genuine interest in the topic are better than ones that imply willingness to listen only as a favor to the other person, but I am not sure how to create such responses without losing some appropriateness for cases where the other person doesn’t want to give details. Could you give some examples of responses that don’t imply the favor, and possibly guidelines for creating them?
(For reference, the 4 cases I’m currently considering are: just mentioned it for honesty, only wants acknowledgement/platitudes, actually wants to talk about it, and other.)
Also, I second Nornagest’s request (in the sibling to this post) for elaboration on why you dislike Captain Awkward. I personally have found it useful, but if there’s something to be wary of about it I’d like to know.
Having read a bunch of recent posts, I think that most of the things the Captain says (or has been saying lately, at least) are more or less reasonable. The undercurrent of eyes-narrowing, head-tilting, and nagging suspicion is mild to nonexistent for me, for most of these posts; and indeed much of the content seems like useful advice in general and potentially helpful to me personally.
However, I did find an example of one of the things I remember strongly, almost violently disliking about her views:
You: ”Hey, that was really mean” (see also: uncalled for, not cool, not okay, hurtful)
and Mean Guy:
Mansplains why it was actually funny
Doubles down on the jerky sentiments
Calls you too sensitive or questions your sense of humor
Blames his depression or makes it about some issue he has where he somehow can’t help it
ESPECIALLY if at the end of the above conversations you end up apologizing to him in some way
Or he says anything that is not in the vicinity of “I’m sorry, you’re right”–
(then, says Captain Awkward, you should not be friends with this person.)
This falls into the now-classic pattern of “I assert that you have spoken/acted Badly and Wrongly, and that I have been injured by your words/actions! You do not have the right to question that assertion; in fact, if you do anything other than meekly apologize and otherwise express your guilt and submission, you are a Bad Person.”
I have a very strong dislike of such thinking.
As an added bonus, I find the word “mansplain” to be repulsive, and anyone using it to be a big red flag. In this case, the red flag is for views/behaviors that are evident in any case.
ETA:This post, and the comments (including the Captain’s responses in the comments), actually demonstrates even more starkly why I antirecommend this blog.
ETA 2:The Site Policies page explains that misogyny in a comment will cause that comment to be deleted. In the next sentence, it’s stated that talking about misandry will also cause a comment to be deleted. “Misandry” is apparently a “code-word” that indicates the speaker is a Men’s Rights Activist (And That’s Bad™). (“Misogyny”, presumably, is not a “code-word”.)
It is clear, sadly, that this blog has far too much toxic ideology mixed in with the useful advice.
I didn’t know about Captain Awkward before this comment, and after reading those links I antirecommend it too for similar reasons. I suppose just antirecommending her gender-heavy posts could mitigate the problem. Ideology and advice is a bad mix.
… I am not sure how to create such responses without losing some appropriateness for cases where the other person doesn’t want to give details.
Yeah, that’s the problem. I have no solution, I’m afraid, other than to know the person you’re speaking with, and being able to predict what they prefer based on your knowledge of their personality.
As for Captain Awkward… I’m having a hard time verbalizing the reasons for my distaste… I will maybe read a post or two and see if I can elaborate/explain my view.
As in in the cellar of a house or something that was hit by it, or actually thrown through the air, or what? No tornados in this part of the world, not sure how they work.
We were in a first floor closet under the stairs when the tornado came upon the house.
You actually know more about the event now than many people I work with and see every day. The difference in interest makes sense… but it wasn’t my intention to derail the conversation. I will consider composing a comment in the open thread, about our reactions to finding ourselves in such a low probability event.
I think this is a pretty good model. I study these interactions every morning at work, when my goal is to get to my office as quickly as possible without being registered as aloof or unfriendly. I answer the ‘how are you’ as perfunctorily as possible, or sometimes I try to invest a little thought into an answer that is friendly and sincere but unlikely to add any more seconds such as, ‘crazy busy!’ or, ‘trying to get some work done before my meeting at 2’.
When I’m asking the ‘how are you’, I hold my breath hoping the person doesn’t make a bid for a more meaningful interaction. Sometimes it can’t be helped—if the person’s basement flooded over the weekend, and they want to talk, I’ll re-prioritize my morning a little. But I definitely don’t want to get trapped small-talking with someone who just has more free time than I do.(Obviously this morning I have some free time.)
I have been on the other side. Last year I was in a tornado, and I wanted to talk about it with everyone, to try and get over the shock and put such a rare one-off event in perspective. I was amazed by the fraction of people who were able to dismiss this bid, usually just by sharing a couple sentences about the time they were somewhat near a tornado or saying, ‘wow’. After just two exchanges, I saved face thereafter by choosing language that suggested I was only near a tornado, so the other person could talk about tornadoes only if they wanted to.
(nods) Yup.
For about a year after my stroke, I was pretty much unable to talk about anything else, for similar reasons.
Eventually I got into the habit of letting people make conversational overtures, then dropping the stroke into my response (not unlike I just did, come to think of it). Some people would then talk to me about my stroke, some would continue along their primary path, and it all worked out reasonably well.
Eventualier this would evolve into a funny dynamic where several minutes into a conversation I’d make a passing reference to my stroke and they’d be like “WHAT? Talk about burying the lede, dude!” (Coming out to childhood friends is funny this way, also. “Husband? What? Huh?”)
Is being in a tornado even remotely like it’s portrayed in movies?
One obvious difference is that you don’t have an aerial view. Instead of seeing a well-developed twister moving erratically, it was actually too dark and stormy to see anything. A consequence of this is that the sensual experience of it was dominated by sound. First a peculiar roaring (is that...? What is that?) and then a realization of the path of the sound, and that it is moving towards you...
A less obvious difference is how singled out you feel, it’s a psychological impression. In a movie, you expect interesting things to happen to the main characters. In real life, it was really shocking to us that we were the main characters in this experience that felt like a movie.
My family is religious but I was satisfied with how rational we were. There was some idle speculation or joking at first that it was an act of God, or God was trying to tell us something. But to whatever extent we were serious, it was more like a question or hypothesis that fizzled out when there weren’t any subsequent ‘messages’.
Did you irrationally feel singled out with your stroke? What parts of the experience did you want to tell about?
Oo, that’s a new question! Cool.
Yeah, absolutely, the “singled out” thing is big. I think a lot of people react this way to traumatic events… it’s different when it happens to us.
A lot of my reaction to trauma generally is this kind of split-screen emotionally dissociative thing where I am simultaneously having irrational reactions and being aware that my reactions are irrational, and neither branch seems to do much to influence the other. So I was often in a superposition of “I am the only person to ever experience this singular event and it is all very very meaningful” and “I am one of many people experiencing this all the time and it’s just a thing that happens.”
The parts of the experience I wanted to talk about varied… it was more that this was the most central aspect of my life for over two years, by a very hefty margin, so I thought about everything in terms of it. It’s a little bit like teenagers in a new relationship, or a lot of people after a bad divorce, where everything connects to that experience. Which is entirely understandable, but tedious for third parties.
I hear you about the religious family/act of God thing. My mom spent a lot of time agonizing over that. I eventually suggested to her that if she needed a narrative in which my stroke was a purposeful act, she should adopt the narrative that God sent me a recoverable-from stroke at 40 so I would start treating my hypertension and not have a fatal heart attack at 45. She decided that yes, that was a better narrative, and that was that.
Thanks for the data.
The tornado thing sounds, well, really scary. I can imagine wanting to talk through that a lot of times—or not wanting to but needing to anyway. I’m curious why you felt you lost face by having your bid for synpathy turned down, that seems to reflect poorly on the other person, not you.
Anyway if you want to vent one more time to a stranger feel free to send me a direct message.
I felt like I lost some face, because they were rude to me and thus revealed the friendship was not that sincere, etc; but mostly I felt that I was creating a situation where they lost face because I’m sure they would rather not appear rude, but I didn’t leave an easy way out.
...This is why I actually stopped telling people I was in the tornado—it is very difficult for a friendly person not to offer some support, as you just did. Fortunately, I’ve had lots of time discussing all the details with other people that are fascinated by weather, and now my emotional state has just modulated into an interest in all kinds of extreme weather.
“I don’t find your distress worthy of my attention” suggests that the other person has higher status than the one in distress, since they can dismiss the bid without needing to expect censure from others.
Uh, what did you expect / hope that they would say instead? Not being sarcastic — I’m genuinely curious, since “wow” seems like it would be my response as well. Is that wrong? If so, why?
At the time, I wanted to discuss everything about the tornado—how it came upon us and what we were doing and how we survived, etc. I thought I had the most awesome topic of conversation ever, and had earned 10 minutes at least from every person I knew to discuss the details. I think people found the topic intimidating, because I would’ve had much more success seeding a conversation by mentioning if I had acquired a kitten over the holidays.
It was the lack of any follow-up questions after the ‘wow’.
Well, to be honest, if someone came to me and said “I was in a tornado!”, I’d love to respond by quizzing them about all the details, and listening with rapt attention. I mean, that sounds incredibly interesting.
But in my experience, most people who go through “traumatizing” experiences, or whatever, don’t respond well to such, instead preferring not to talk about it, or at most wishing to receive some bland platitudes to the effect that “wow, that must have been terrible! :( you must have felt so scared! :( ”. Which would sound rather insincere coming from me (and maybe from most people? I don’t know).
So instead I just say “wow” or somesuch.
Your disappointment makes sense to me now.
While I haven’t actually tried this with other people, I think an appropriate response to show your interest in hearing about it would be along the lines of “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?” in a tone that doesn’t sound like you’re pressuring them either way.
From the perspective of someone who has been through “traumatizing” experiences, clear indicators of interest/non-interest are important because the responses of potential people to talk to vary widely. For close friends I generally know how they’ll respond (and therefore who to ask if I need to talk things out with someone), but other than that it’s hard to tell.
To give some concrete examples: Some of my biological family members have been and still are often extremely difficult towards me, especially in person, in ways that are not relevant to the examples. This makes visiting those family members, which I am still obligated to do on every family visit I make, very unpleasant for me. When the subject of my feelings about those visits comes up in small talk situations (or really any not-close-friend-who-knows-what-to-expect situations), I try to minimize the sudden unhappy awkwardness while still being honest and giving the other person an idea of what topics to avoid should they not want to hear about it, then leave it up to them to indicate if they want to hear more or not. (I could explain my reasoning for this approach if anyone’s interested, but it’s also not relevant to the examples.)
In the past few months I had two conversations with other people, whom I shall call A and B, that illustrate the range of responses I get. I met both A and B in the same social group and had both conversations in similar contexts. At the time of each conversation, I considered my relationship with my interlocutor to be somewhere between “acquaintance” and “friend”; I saw them (in the “Hi”; “Hi” sense) about once a weekday, had conversed with them occasionally, and would have been willing to talk futher about my experience with my biological family with them had they shown interest. They had also given no prior indication of their receptiveness (or lack thereof) to such conversations. Here are the conversations (both were in person):
[‘handshake’ exchange]
A: What did you do during [a recent time when I was away from that social group but A was not]?
Me: I visited my family.
A: How was that visit?
Me: Not great, unfortunately; some of my family members are not the most pleasant for me to deal with.
A: Oh? How so?
[a few minutes of conversation about those family members’ behaviors towards me]
[‘handshake’ exchange]
B: So what will you be doing over the holidays?
Me: I’ll be visiting my family.
B: Are you looking forward to it?
Me: Some of my family members are not the most pleasant for me to deal with, so no, not really.
B: Whoa! Too Much Information!
[awkward pause, then subject change]
These are the most extreme responses I’ve seen, and I don’t recommend either of them, but they should give you an idea of what people get when looking for someone to talk to. Here’s what I do recommend (just from my own experiences and understanding of socializing):
Regardless of your level of interest in hearing more, acknowledge the other person’s experience in some way. After (or during) that, you can indicate your level of interest.
If you’re interested in hearing more and willing to listen at that moment, inquire if your interlocutor wants to talk further about it—thus my earlier recommendation of “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?”. This is implicitly offering to listen to them; something along the lines of “If you want to talk about it, I’d listen” also works. Possible responses:
If they just mentioned it for honesty’s sake and don’t want to talk about it, they can say “No” without pressure.
If they wanted to receive some platitudes or similar expressions of caring, well, offering to listen to them is a pretty good expression of caring. It also seems to me that offering to listen is less likely to be taken as insincere than most platitudes.
If they do want to talk about it, they can take you up on that offer.
There are other possible responses, such as “Not right now” and “No, but could you do [something distracting] with me?”, but those tend to explain themselves.
I would accept A’s response as an expression of interest, but I wouldn’t recommend it because it assumes that the other person wants to give more details. I’d accept it because it’s not probing or heavily pressuring, and it leaves the choice of what details to give in response up to the other person.
If you’re not interested in hearing more, possibly offer a platitude, then politely offer some way to get the conversation off the subject (subject change, etc.). If the experience seems to have seriously affected the person, you may want to direct them to other support resources.
I wouldn’t accept B’s response because it’s both awkward and insensitive:
Not offering some way to redirect the conversation is awkward,
Not acknowledging the other person’s experience is insensitive, and
Treating a fairly minimal response (just enough to be honest and indicate what topic to avoid if uninterested) as Too Much Information is both awkward and insensitive.
Better responses would include “Oh, ok. [subject change]” and “I’m sorry to hear that. [subject change]”.
If you can’t have a long conversation at that moment but would want to hear more later, would rather offer support in some other way, etc., then say so. This works much like the ‘interested in hearing more’ case.
A social advice resource that readers may find useful: (warning: some questions sent there are Not Safe For Work) Captain Awkward
(edited for formatting)
Interesting and useful, thank you.
I think I disagree with you on “Wow. Do you want to talk about it?” as a good response in cases like byrnema’s (and other cases I’ve personally run into). If you ask me that, and I take you up on it, the implication is that you’re doing me a favor by talking to me about this; you gain status and I lose status. I, for one, would prefer hearing some response that implies that you’re actually interested in talking to me about this, rather than that you’re talking to me because I want to talk about it.
Also, I strongly dislike Captain Awkward. I do not second the recommendation. (Others may not share my distaste, so ymmv.)
Can you elaborate?
Responded here.
Interesting.
I agree that responses that imply genuine interest in the topic are better than ones that imply willingness to listen only as a favor to the other person, but I am not sure how to create such responses without losing some appropriateness for cases where the other person doesn’t want to give details. Could you give some examples of responses that don’t imply the favor, and possibly guidelines for creating them?
(For reference, the 4 cases I’m currently considering are: just mentioned it for honesty, only wants acknowledgement/platitudes, actually wants to talk about it, and other.)
Also, I second Nornagest’s request (in the sibling to this post) for elaboration on why you dislike Captain Awkward. I personally have found it useful, but if there’s something to be wary of about it I’d like to know.
Update re: my views on Captain Awkward:
Having read a bunch of recent posts, I think that most of the things the Captain says (or has been saying lately, at least) are more or less reasonable. The undercurrent of eyes-narrowing, head-tilting, and nagging suspicion is mild to nonexistent for me, for most of these posts; and indeed much of the content seems like useful advice in general and potentially helpful to me personally.
However, I did find an example of one of the things I remember strongly, almost violently disliking about her views:
(Captain Awkward suggests a test to determine whether you should stay friends with a “mean” person)
(then, says Captain Awkward, you should not be friends with this person.)
This falls into the now-classic pattern of “I assert that you have spoken/acted Badly and Wrongly, and that I have been injured by your words/actions! You do not have the right to question that assertion; in fact, if you do anything other than meekly apologize and otherwise express your guilt and submission, you are a Bad Person.”
I have a very strong dislike of such thinking.
As an added bonus, I find the word “mansplain” to be repulsive, and anyone using it to be a big red flag. In this case, the red flag is for views/behaviors that are evident in any case.
ETA: This post, and the comments (including the Captain’s responses in the comments), actually demonstrates even more starkly why I antirecommend this blog.
ETA 2: The Site Policies page explains that misogyny in a comment will cause that comment to be deleted. In the next sentence, it’s stated that talking about misandry will also cause a comment to be deleted. “Misandry” is apparently a “code-word” that indicates the speaker is a Men’s Rights Activist (And That’s Bad™). (“Misogyny”, presumably, is not a “code-word”.)
It is clear, sadly, that this blog has far too much toxic ideology mixed in with the useful advice.
I didn’t know about Captain Awkward before this comment, and after reading those links I antirecommend it too for similar reasons. I suppose just antirecommending her gender-heavy posts could mitigate the problem. Ideology and advice is a bad mix.
Yeah, that’s the problem. I have no solution, I’m afraid, other than to know the person you’re speaking with, and being able to predict what they prefer based on your knowledge of their personality.
As for Captain Awkward… I’m having a hard time verbalizing the reasons for my distaste… I will maybe read a post or two and see if I can elaborate/explain my view.
What I would say is something like “Wow! Is everyone at home all right?”
As in in the cellar of a house or something that was hit by it, or actually thrown through the air, or what? No tornados in this part of the world, not sure how they work.
We were in a first floor closet under the stairs when the tornado came upon the house.
You actually know more about the event now than many people I work with and see every day. The difference in interest makes sense… but it wasn’t my intention to derail the conversation. I will consider composing a comment in the open thread, about our reactions to finding ourselves in such a low probability event.