Synopsis

One A Day: Bites to Better Business is a compilation of mostly wry, often whimsical observations on business and the people and personalities that inhabit contemporary organizations. From “Don’t Ask a Cucumber to be a Tomato”, which skeptically examines the wisdom of appointing lawyers to manage government units or faculty to manage colleges, to Calgary and Butte as lessons in local economic development, to “Integrity as a Corporate Value”, the book is organized in small digestible bites. The insights are presented in several arbitrary categories: Communication, Government, Leadership, Management, Organizational Behavior, This-and-That.

Chapter 1.

Communication

The Art of Conversation

I was once hired for a job simply because I was able to participate in a conversation.  It was a job teaching economics in Europe, primarily on military bases. The interviewer had flown in (late) and was both busy and behind.  No matter. I always kept a novel at the ready so as not to become impatient. He bustled into the office having just finished with another candidate, glanced at my resume and began the small talk portion of the interview.  “Nebraska. Maria Sandoz country,” he glibly remarked as his finger slid down the page. With some deliberation I replied, “Don’t just judge Nebraska by Maria Sandoz. Also judge it by Willa Cather.”

It took a moment for that to process as he flipped the page. When the message finally made it, he looked as me as though I had spoken in the lost language of the Incas. He laid aside the resume and we began a conversation that started with literature’s portrayal of Nebraska and ended with our collective agreement that one needs to read many perspectives before you can appreciate the whole elephant. A head poked in the door and reminded him he was late for his next candidate. The business portion of our conversation then consisted of him asking to what address he should send the contract.

It is rare to actually have a conversation these days. There are assorted verbal interactions that occur, but let’s not confuse these with conversation.  There is for example, the monologue. Some monologists need a topic to begin their blather. Inquiring about their health is usually sufficient. Some can continue, like a snake swallowing its tail, finding sustenance in their own verbiage, hopping for one topic to another of their own accord. Others will pause for you to ask another question, or for comment before they continue. Some will even believe they are participating in a conversation because they ask you a question as they pause for a sip of wine. When you arrive at your first comma however, that is their signal to intervene and fascinate you with their perspective, or trip, or gossip, or grandchildren.

The soliloquy varies slightly from the monologue, the soliloquy being the highest form of the monologue. This requires no listener, or none in particular. Should you excuse yourself to the bar, and a wise trip that is, they will continue without pause by simply turning to the nearest person available.  I once ask a question of a soliloquist, then exited to the kitchen to begin the marinade, knowing he would seamlessly shift his attention to others at the table and I had a good fifteen minutes before he would wander back to the substance of the question.

There are also those who confuse story telling with conversation. You answer their opening query, assuming they have the courtesy to query, by replying that you were on a Bedouin camel safari in the Sahara last month. As you pause, allowing them time to formulate their initial question about your intriguing journey, they respond not with a question but with a half-hour detailed verbal diorama depicting the time their car broke down in the Mojave on long weekend to Las Vegas. One story follows another experience follows another story.

I would caution care around those who immediately introduce a political and/or social topic. Trump’s response to Covid, immigration, both social and political. People who usher these strawmen onto the stage are not interested in conversation, but rather debate. They are rarely trying to clarify their thinking on a matter by gathering varied perspectives, but rather seeking to vent an accumulated anger, or impress with their political righteousness, in summary, to blast a frog with a 12 gauge.

And then there are those who have never had a conversation because they only know monosyllabic responses to open ended questions. Does the new Disney movie transcend the bounds of what constitutes family entertainment? Yes.

What then is conversation? What then is art? Conversation is a mutual interaction, where something new is created that did not exist before.  It can have as its foundation, something or nothing, a topic of substance or an exchange of witticisms. But beyond the foundation, something is built, something is created.  Maybe one did the plumbing, the other the dry wall, and both help raise the rafters. It’s a favorite aunt showing you how her grandmother canned peaches, or an afternoon with a new puppy. In any case, you leave the event with more than you came. And you contributed.

The reasons why people no longer know how to converse may be many: too much MTV, too many video games, too much Facebook, too many bad examples of commentators screaming and interrupting.  But the good thing is that there is value in scarcity. When you encounter a good conversation, it is so rare and welcome as to be enjoyed and remember for some time to come.

And every now and then it will lead to a new friend, a new customer, or a new job.

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