How to be a supercommunicator

Stop that. šŸ˜‰

Itā€™s Wednesday, May 29th, and today weā€™re talking about the critical difference between in-person and digital conversation.

The best thing you can do for me if you find this useful: forward this to a smart friend so they can sign up here.

Thereā€™s one thing I need you to understand: I donā€™t understand you.

And unless you really get a kick out of wasting your own time, you need me to.

Years ago, I was at dinner with a friend and her family. I didnā€™t know them well. Dinner was pleasant enough; a little small talk, a little family ribbing and reminiscing, and then it was time to go.

The server dropped off the check but had forgotten to add one of the items we ordered. When he came back to collect payment, my friendā€™s uncle looked up and said, ā€œYou forgot our beers, so I guess theyā€™re free!ā€ As he said this, he let out a wheezy laugh and looked at me. I smiled pleasantly back, but I didnā€™t laugh.

Because it wasnā€™t funny. Light-hearted, sure. But not funny.

In that moment, I saw his countenance change toward me. It was smallā€”such a micro-moment that it would have been impossible to catch by anyone else. But I saw it.

***

A few months ago, in a community forum, two folks were talking about the merits of the city I currently live in. They squabbled for 10 solid passes until someone else realized that one was talking about Salem NH and the other was talking about Salem MA.

In both of these stories, one in person and one online, unnecessary tension was introduced because of both contextual and emotional reasons.

In both cases, we take for granted that people understand tone and intention when they rarely do.

šŸ  Entering the Room

When it comes to in-person events, we enter a room scanning for two things: energy and mood (and maybe a bar).

Weā€™re often not cognizant of this, but every one of us is gauging others around us on the energy/mood matrix.

I made this.

Once we find someone we feel reasonably comfortable approaching, a new search criterion kicks in as we intake a whole host of small signals to determine whether we ā€œclickā€ with this person. Signals like:

  • Reciprocity: When we ask questions, do they ask them back? Are we sharing the same volume of details?

  • Vulnerability: When I open up, do they open up?

  • Attention: Are they present with me? (People watch our face when talking and will start to feel a disconnect when they see our eyes flicker to other places in the room.)

  • Laughter:

Laughter is a big one. In fact, itā€™s one of the most primary ways we build rapport. Itā€™s not enough to laugh with someone: the intensity and length of the laugh can make or break a bond. If one person makes a joke and gives a hearty belly laugh while the other merely chuckles, research tells us that the belly laugher suddenly feels a regression in rapport building.

Laughter is how we seek and give approval. My friendā€™s uncle attempted to bond with me, and I gave him a non-verbal ā€œno, thank you.ā€

I didnā€™t understand it at the time. In fact, Iā€™ve always struggled with this. I donā€™t think a lot of things people laugh at in semi-awkward social situations are funny, so it feels honest to simply smile in support but not laugh (ironic, considering Iā€™m the girl who still laughs in restaurants when ketchup bottles make fart noises).

What I saw as honesty, others were seeing as aloofness.

Non-verbal communication, to those observant enough to use it, is a cheat code to all social situations.

But often, we donā€™t have this luxury. Weā€™re playing by a new set of rules and we donā€™t even know itā€¦

šŸ–„ļø Entering the Digital Room

In virtual spaces, almost all of these dynamics become void and are replaced with a new set of rules. And while it feels like virtual conversations are ubiquitous, compared to in-person language and non-linguistic expression, virtual conversations and the rules that guide them are in their infancy.

In the digital room, you cannot hear laughter. Hell, you canā€™t even express it accurately (stop ā€œlolā€-ing everything, people).

You canā€™t see eye contact, detect discomfort, and more importantly, you cannot hear the tone.

Stop that. šŸ¤¬

Stop that. šŸ™„

Stop that. šŸ¤£

Stop that. šŸ„¹

As the emojis show us, every instance of ā€œstop thatā€ above can take on a different tone and interpretation. Many deem emojis as juvenile. In fact, they are a way to safely convey tone and humanize a conversation. Because when you write ā€œstop thatā€ with no emotional footnote, all interpretations are game.

I recently read Supercommunicators by Charles Duhigg. After reading a chapter on digital connection and thinking through my own experiences, I believe there are five rules to avoid these landmines and have better digital conversations:

  1. Hedge more: While in real life hedging may seem insecure, in the digital world it creates space for course correction.

  2. Apologize and own misunderstanding: Hot damn is it hard for people to just be wrong. The doubling down of stupid in internet fights is just wild. Just say sorry and be wrong.

  3. Be affirming: Disarm people through empathy and understanding. Youā€™d be surprised how far you can get just by acknowledging the validity of someoneā€™s point of view.

  4. Verify tone: Stop that. Stop that? Stop that! Just askā€¦

  5. Assume the best: Consider your own daily behavior online. Itā€™s unlikely youā€™re trying to murder someone with words every time you type a sentence.

Iā€™m going to add a bonus rule here because out of all the dangers of online communication, it is by FAR my biggest pet peeve:

Stop giving unsolicited advice.

STOP THAT. šŸ¤¬šŸ¤¬

Every single day I see people ask questions and receive a ton of answers blatantly ignoring the question and instead giving direction and opinion that no one asked for.

For example:

These are mostly harmless examples, and, for instance, I wish there were less breeding and more rescuing of dogs. But thatā€™s sort of the point: thatā€™s my opinion. It wasnā€™t asked for. And being behind a screen has somehow removed the courtesy of being contextually appropriate.

Perhaps in person, these tangents and nuances would make their way into conversations, but unless it was asked, it is wholly obnoxious and assumptive to respond this way.

More people are spending time in digital communities than in-person ones. If youā€™re one of the lucky folks who regularly interact with others in person, before you walk into a room:

  • Check your energy and mood. You are sending silent signals.

  • Hold eye contact and ask questions back. The most unattractive quality is a lack of curiosity.

  • Laugh with them. Donā€™t be snotty like me. Iā€™ve got work to do. Signal that they are safe through your laughter.

If itā€™s true that people remember how you made them feel, then these three small decisions will make a world of difference in your ability to leave someone better than how you found them.

For your digital experiences: be gentler, be less assumptive, seek to understand, but most importantly remember: we donā€™t know you. We canā€™t possibly understand all of your tonalities and approaches in a world where we canā€™t see your face.

The internet is such an exhaustingly combative space. Be one of the good guys.

Onward,

April

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