Chapter 9

The Weather and the Words in Passing

Just as in the matter of conversation generally our rule was to talk to please others more than self, so in life's daily routine or casual encounters the special watchword is that, in pleasing the other, one say nothing which will hurt a third, an absent one. Talking is divinely intended to pull isolated human beings into the human family, to draw mankind together into a brotherhood. It was not intended to split it into cliques or into conspiracies. A friendship must not be aimed at keeping others out, but to help those in it groom themselves for a still wider circle of friends. A club must not be thought of as divisive, but as pulling likely persons together and fitting them for a still wider association or brotherhood. Each unit of social contact should prepare its members for a next larger, more comprehensive unit.

That means, whenever two or three persons meet and talk, for a minute or for an hour, they should not only lift their own morale and strengthen their own friendship, but each should also be an advocate, as it were, of his other friends. In this way my friends, for example, who were but acquaintances to you will become your friends, too, and yours will become mine. When I see John, I should, if he is a good conversationalist, walk away liking his buddy, Tom, better than before, or his sister or his wife or his neighbor. Just as in a personal letter a person writes about his mutual acquaintances, so in a casual or short meeting each brings the other up to date, as it were, on their mutual friends and acquaintances.

Talking about the weather has been the subject of many jokes — good and bad. Despite this, however, the weather is a perfectly proper topic of exchange during the first moments after two or three or a whole company of people meet. In such a situation something has to be said. And if they haven't met previously that day or if they do not meet every day, you cannot say, "Good morning, Mr. Black. Isn't the new tax bill a terror?" In such casual encounters, then, it is quite in line to exchange a few comments about the weather. Only two things are wrong in talking about this subject. One is to keep talking about it. Virginia Woolf condemning certain literary types says, "The literary convention of the time is so artificial — you have to talk about the weather and nothing but the weather throughout the entire visit." One must somehow use the weather as a bridge to something better. You may say, "From cloudy it turned rather nice." He says, "Yes, it's almost warm." You say, "Makes one feel like going for a drive. How is your new car behaving?" And so the conversation has been steered to something better. The second fault in talking about the weather is to wax profound or philosophical about it. If you say, "It is surely hot today," and I say, "Oh, it isn't the heat, but the humidity," and if while saying it I do not smile mockingly, I should not be forgiven unless when someone comments on the first snow fall, I reply, "Oh, it's not really snow, it's just frozen vapor"!

Nowhere does a superior personality more quickly reveal itself than by what he manages to say during a casual meeting, lasting perhaps only a few minutes. Such meetings are like extempore speeches. Being unexpected, unprepared, a good, cultivated talker will manage to say the right things, whereas an uncultivated one will say the worst. After the first exchange about the weather, which gives a sort of chance to collect one's self, the next moments are properly spent in bringing one another up to date on self and family. You ask, "How are you? How are your folks?"

During such encounters one should, if at all possible, exchange data on things relatively pleasant. If a person or family member is significantly ill, so that it is a permanent factor in the social relationship, then of course it should be mentioned. But otherwise a person should stress the pleasant news about himself and his friends. To my memory, I have never yet called on one certain family, to say hello by phone, without getting an immediate litany of recent ailments in response to my question, "How have you been?" Now, illness is not a sin. It is one of the tribulations of this valley of tears. But at home my father seemed to treat sin and sickness as more or less related. We did not dare enlarge upon either. And I think that is a good thing. While you should, of course, be sympathetic toward the ailments of others, you should talk about your own as little as possible. It is not noble or heroic to detail one's ailments. And in a casual meeting, a passing ailment should if possible be passed off in silence. If it cannot be, you might say, "I am pretty well, thanks. A slight cold, nothing to emphasize," and pass on to something else.

What the something else will be is important in making you a person whom people are delighted to run into, or vaguely prefer not to encounter. Naturally, the first of all instincts you must have is time and timing. You must either sense or ask whether or not the other is at leisure or in a hurry. Just as in telephoning someone, it is well to ask if he is at ease or just about to eat or to catch a train, so in a casual street or lobby meeting one must either sense or ask the same thing. Under no circumstances must you say anything that would hold anyone a moment longer than his time seems to permit.

In a casual one-to-ten-minute meeting there are hundreds of different things that might be said — depending on the circumstances. There are also several approaches. One cannot describe them all. In general, however, when you casually meet an old acquaintance you must make him feel that you are glad to see him. This is more a matter of tone of voice and expression of face than either heartiness of handshake or superlative of words. Continuing, you should note something favorable, personal, on which to comment, such as his appearance, if it is warranted, or a new and especially attractive article of dress. If he acquired anything else new which you have seen or heard about since having seen him, such as a house or car or even a new shrub, you should comment upon it. If you have heard favorable news regarding him, as that he recently won at cards or was mentioned in the Red Cross drive or won a contest, you should allude to this news. You should recollect anything favorable which is nonconfidential and comment on it. Often merely saying, "I see (or heard) you were a patron for the firemen's ball," is satisfactory and produces a pleasant impression of the encounter.

These things, too, ought to be remarked on at the beginning of any party, that is, as soon as the circumstances permit. But it is important to stress that one comments on the favorable items; not on anything unfavorable. You should not say, "I heard you were demoted. Too bad" or "I see by the promotion list that your son failed in school" or "Too bad about that suit for debts against you." One does not allude to unfavorable items, unless they are of such common knowledge that not to do so would seem to be avoiding them purposely. If someone's brother shot a neighbor and all the papers carried it, then, on meeting, you may frankly say, "I sympathize with you about the tragic publicity that indirectly fell on you."

A conversationalist ought to go prowling about looking for good things to comment on, and to effect by-passes for unfavorable ones. Every casual meeting ought to furnish him with an outlet for good news. However, while eagerly telling of others' luck and being silent about their hard luck, your attitude will be reversed concerning your own affairs. Regarding any personal good fortune you will rather wait for others to compliment you. If they do not know of it, you will according to the principle of keeping one another up to date, modestly tell of it. As regards any ill, you will not advertise that either, but if they know of it or are likely to hear of it anyhow, then, you will rather proceed to mention it yourself.

Human nature being what it is, you make more friends if you catch a fish smaller than others, instead of bigger. Therefore, unless people want sympathy, you do not remind them of their ill fortune, and you soft-pedal your own good luck as much as truth permits. As for any minor personal mishap or discomfiture, if it does not implicate others and is not confidential, you are wise to tell it. A discomfiture, if it is not accompanied by a "touch" for a loan, has never lost a friend. After the perfunctory exchanges, you may frankly say, "At the moment I am still a bit upset about a cut in salary" or "my son's expulsion" or "the attack upon me in the paper." But a person should not mention such ill luck in a sob-sister sort of way, as if to cry on the other's shoulder. He should state it simply as a personal fact which the other needs to know in order to be up to date about him.

In addition to commenting on any publicly knowable, favorable items, you should make it a special point to relay any compliment you have heard anyone make about the other or about anyone near and dear to him. This is one of the most Christian things one human being can do for mankind — to go around gently and sincerely relaying kind things heard about anyone. If on meeting someone you can say, "My neighbor tells me your son is the best trumpet player in school," you will have started several waves of good feeling in him — for you, for your neighbor, and for his son.

It is a beautiful thing gently to relay a compliment or a kind word. It will linger like a favorite melody in the minds of those who know you. They won't be conscious of it, perhaps; they won't fully realize why it is — they will just feel that you are an extraordinarily delightful person to meet. A relayed compliment is the most powerful joy giver and reconciler in the world. Once I heard a lady say that Jones was too boorish and crude in his manners to suit her. Then I heard him say one day that Mrs. Tweeney was a prim, narrow-minded woman, but one who, he had to admit, could grasp an abstract idea and give better reasons for it than the usual feminine "because." When I heard Mrs. Tweeney once again attack Jones, I said casually, "I suppose he thinks you have one or two shortcomings, too, but I remember his saying that you are one woman who can grasp an abstract idea and argue rationally." She grumbled, "He did, did he!" She said it gruffly, but even at that moment the sting was ebbing out of her dislike. Before I left she managed to say, "Well, I will say this for Jones, though he is weak on Emily Post, he is frank and honest." After a seemingly casual, disinterested relay of incidental compliments, it did not take these two long to become good friends.

The human heart is so constructed that it is practically helpless against an honest compliment brought to it by a friend. Such a compliment acts doubly. First of all, it is agreeable in itself. Secondly, being carried by a friend it has already had the audience that everyone yearns for who has a good thing to boast of. As we said before, the besetting temptation is to glorify oneself, but the relayed compliment is already shared with a friend to whom we most would like to tell such a thing. It makes the fearful temptation to self-praise superfluous — and so earns eternal gratitude.

There is a contrary to this, of course. For the thing than which there is nothing worse is to relay some unfavorable item you have heard. Even merely objective news which is unflattering should not be passed on. Never report such things for example as, "My neighbor told me your son flunked in algebra." To do so is twice as wrong as if you merely said, "Too bad your son flunked in algebra," for it arouses an active suspicion in your hearer that your neighbor goes about telling other uncomplimentary matters about him and his family.

But the thing for which a millstone should be hanged about a person's neck to drown him in a deserted swimming pool reserved for lepers is the relaying of an uncomplimentary remark, some incidental criticism. Anyone who says, "Talking of you with John the other day, he happened to remark that your dancing is lousy/' or, "Your butcher happened to say that you are his cheapest customer" or "Mr. Stone was wondering how, with your salary, you could afford a new car," ought to be ostracized from respectable company. These are unforgivable offenses against society. They are like throwing sand into a grandfather's clock.

It is no excuse to say, "Well, these people had no business making uncomplimentary comments in the first place." That may or may not be true. But the harm is not so much in making them as in relaying them. In fact, their greatest danger always is that some uncivilized hearer may relay them. Of course, everybody should be careful all the time not to comment unfavorably about anyone. However, the fact remains that in the hurly-burly of life people will casually and thoughtlessly and not slanderously comment unfavorably upon others. Often the comment is in fact only a qualification of otherwise favorable remarks. A person may say, "Clara is such a charming girl, bright, with a sparkling personality. If only she would learn how to dance." The total effect of this comment is quite harmless, but if only the part about the dancing is relayed, the harm and hurt can be grievous. Clara may never afterward be able to feel wholeheartedly friendly toward the commenter. Once a fellow, "raving" about a girl, also added that she was a sloppy dresser. This latter was passed on, and all his subsequent reiteration of the compliments in which the remark was buried failed to heal the breach.

Relaying is especially vile when it involves personal features over which a person has no control. If one reports that Tom called Susan a wonderful girl, if only she were less homely, the consequences are disastrous and permanent. A person can take dancing lessons, but it is rather difficult to change over a face. Therefore, if you tell someone that I do not like her face, she is likely to keep her face permanently out of my way. One certainly should not unnecessarily commerit on anyone's natural shortcomings, but the sin of sins is relaying such comments.

Some unfavorable comments are virtually demanded in the line of duty or society. They are a sort of informal credit report. If someone is proposed for membership in a club, various members must cite not only the pros but also the cons. If the latter are relayed, they do infinite harm, while if they are not relayed, they are merely the shadows in a portrait mostly flattering. What is done rather formally in club admissions is done informally all the time. I say, "I am looking for a plumber. I heard of someone called McKenzie." Jones answers, "McKenzie is very reasonable in price, but his work is often careless." Louise says, "I would like to ask Frank to the prom." Mildred replies, "He is a decent fellow, but a clumsy dancer." Tom asks, "How about asking Hilda over for bridge?" George says, "Oh, don't ask her for bridge. She is a fine dancer, but she can't play bridge worth an orchid in Okinawa."

All these comments are really informal reference reports. By means of them much of the work and play of the world is carried on. But just as in letters of reference and recommendation, so these informal comments ought to be scrupulously honest. And they should be rendered only with caution to the right persons and for the right purpose. But certainly they cannot be prohibited. They are necessary. The important thing about them is that they must be kept confidential. A comment of reference, whether formal or informal, carries with it the absolute obligation not to relay it, not to dishonor it by publication. Next to recognized villains, one can hardly imagine more vile and insidious characters than these who violate such informal confidences.

In the casual meeting, one will in general not relay anything unpleasant of whatever nature. A casual meeting ought to be an unexpected violet on life's way. We ought to part from it with an all-over happier feeling, with a subconscious hope soon to meet again. The "Auf Wiedersehn," should be founded on the fact that each has brought the other up to date about himself and about all the nice things he has heard or seen about the other since the previous meeting.

Are You Ready To Move Onto The Next Lesson? Click Here….