Eye Contact

Some people listen better with their eyes closed, shutting out visual distractions to focus on what they hear. Some people are uncomfortable making eye contact because it feels too much like an invasion of their personal space.  Some people who do make eye contact feel compelled to break the eye contact while they're doing some momentary evaluation of what the speaker just said.  None of this is news-worthy, right?

Not long ago I had the opportunity to do some substitute teaching.  Small class size -- not at all like speaking to 200 people at a homeschool convention.  Much more intimate.  I couldn't believe how important it was to me for the students to be looking at me.  When they weren't looking at me, I wondered if they were bored.  I wondered if they'd gotten lost because I'd explained poorly or used a word they didn't know.  I wondered if maybe they were distracted in a good way, like making connections between what I said and something they had read earlier in the day.  I wondered if maybe I did still have their full mental attention, even as their eyes gazed unseeingly out the window.

The experience made me think I should take care to make eye contact nearly constantly with whoever's in front of me.  But I'm one of those people who can't listen critically and thoughtfully if I'm making eye contact.  However, now that I know how much it helps a speaker for her listeners to be watching and not just listening, I should try harder to keep my eyes focused too, at least some of the time.

Maybe He WAS Making Sense After All

The other day at work, the customer said something so confusing.

We turned on the microphones and said hello.  He didn't respond.  Fine -- he was rummaging around looking for whatever paperwork he needed to conduct business through the drive-up.  Since he had nothing to say, we turned off the mic. 

After a bit, I noticed that he was facing the tube through which we send paperwork back and forth from the employees to the customers.  I guessed that he was talking to us.  My partner turned on the mic and said, "Yes?" 

The man responded, "Thank you," and sent the tube to us. It arrived empty.  Odd.

"Thank you?  What kind of response is that??" my partner wondered.


So I explained to the customer that the mics were off and asked him to please repeat what he'd said a moment earlier.  He had asked, "May I please have a pen?"  When my partner said, "Yes," he thought she was answering him, and he responded with a polite "thank you."

I laughed with delight over the way the miscommunication came out on both ends.  When all the pieces were put together, it made perfect sense.  But hearing only one end or the other -- weirdo indeed.


So why are we prone to be irritated when somebody does something like that?  When the clerk is crabby, but you don't know how she was reamed out three customers ago?  When a driver does something dumb on the highway, but maybe he's just learning to drive?  When a friend seems to make no sense?  So often, we're just missing a piece here, or misheard a word there.  A little forbearance and a little clarification goes a long way.

Rethinking What It Is To "Be Nice"

At work I am a hypocrite.  A shell.  A faker.  My co-workers really don't know me.  Hey, I'm supposed to "act professional" ... which isn't me.  I have to put on a show at work.   So I watch what I say and don't talk as much as some of the others.  They know I'm an oddball, they know I have a voodoo fondness for curing illness with garlic, they know I homeschool and have a garden and don't go out for lunch, but they have no idea just how un-mainstream I am. 

So it always surprises me when Gary goes to the bank to take care of some business and meets people I've worked with, and comes home with reports of just how nice I am.  My first reaction is usually, "How would they know whether I'm nice?" (especially if it's somebody I worked with only a day or two).  But then I realize: they think I'm nice because I let them talk. 

Really?  That's all it takes for somebody to think you're super-nice? 

Amazing.

Be Kind to Your Teller

Sometimes clerks make mistakes. They may give you 15 cents too much change, or a penny too little. If the customer is shorted, he may think it's no big deal if he ends up with 20 cents too little. "Ah, why bother fussing over that?" He may think that he doesn't want to look like a cheapskate by complaining about getting $4.91 in change instead of $4.92.

But from the teller's perspective, she'd a lot rather have you point out the mistake so that she can keep her drawer in balance. Yup. (Guess who had a customer leave too quickly today?)