A colleague wrote on the white board in all-caps: WAIT.
“What is that for?” I asked.
“It’s an acrostic that helps me with my communication skills. It stands for, “Why Am I Talking?”
I knew my colleague could be a bit of a talker but honestly, so can I.
My grandfather, coming home exhausted from working in the oil fields under the hot sun, gave me a stack of dimes. “We’ll go out to eat in a little while,” he said. “But between now and then, if you want to say something, you have to give me a dime.” It worked and he got a little peace and quiet to unwind.
My grandmother, driving me home from my annual West Texas visit, once said wearily, “Honey, do you realize you’ve been talking since Abilene?” That was the beginning of my awareness that there was more to conversation than talking.
As an adult, I’ve realized that repeatedly as I’ve been sucked into conversations that started interesting but then wouldn’t end. I nod politely and silently wish that my conversation partner would ask me just one question or at least take a breath.
Why do we sometimes talk too much?
We’re overfunctioning. One way to manage relational anxiety is to take on all the responsibility for the success of our connection. We feel single-handedly responsible for the success of the conversation and thus, the relationship. We overdo it by “playing both sides of the net,” contributing our side of the dialogue and the other person’s too.
We’re desperate. It’s sad to realize how many of us don’t have someone we can easily talk with about things that matter to us. Loneliness can be less about not having people in our lives and more about not feeling free to be ourselves in our relationships. When we find a willing, caring listener, we may unburden ourselves almost compulsively, like a traveler in the desert finding water.
We’re self-centered. Let’s face it – sometimes we’re just not that interested in other people. A teacher told me once after calling me down in class, “I think you talk just to hear your head rattle.” In a way, she was right – I was very interested in what I had to say! But when someone regularly dominates a conversation with me, I eventually conclude that they don’t really care about me or my life. That may not be true, but it feels true. I’m sure I leave other people feeling the same way too.
We’re better at talking than listening. If we’re good communicators, we may talk too much just because we’re playing to our strength. We find that leaders are often very prone to talk too much, partly because they equate leadership with expertise and are eager to share what they know, bordering on pontificating.
Over time, I’ve become endlessly fascinated with other humans so it’s become a lot easier to listen about as much as I talk. I’m genuinely curious about other people and love to hear their stories. But when I’m tired or lonely or anxious, I fill the space with too many words and then regret it later.
As a counselor, I set a goal of talking about one-third of a session, if appropriate to the client’s needs. Now I have an AI notetaker that tells me how much of a coaching session I’ve spent talking and I appreciate the real-time feedback.
My colleague was on the right track, asking herself, “WAIT! Why Am I Talking?”
If I’m carrying my side of the conversation by authentically sharing my thoughts and letting other people into my life, I can keep going, knowing that my talking is contributing to effective communication and a healthy connection. But if not, or if the other person is looking a little weary, maybe I can take a breath. Or better yet, ask a question.
