Mind the Gap

NEW YORK, Sept. 15 — At lunch recently, two diners engaged me in conversation — each equally uninvited, but, as we'll see, not equally unwelcome. One would-be conversationalist fell headlong into the gap, the protective space that exists between strangers; the other sailed deftly across it. The difference between connection and failure was subtle and illustrative.

I was at Otto, one of Mario Batali's downtown creations. He's that bulky TV Food Network chef with the red ponytail and orange clogs, who looks like he's just come from the set of "Braveheart." I didn't have a lot of time and wanted to read alone, so I sat at the bar. I chose a stool close to one end of the long counter, comfortably far from the only other patron. I spread out the latest issue of Crain's NY Business and prepared to dine quickly in peace. Or so I thought.

The Arrival of Smelt Lady

Minutes later, a group of husky men in dark T-shirts and jeans walked in, and took three seats close to the middle of the bar to my right. Close behind, a short woman with frizzy hair and too much makeup approached between the trio and me. She scanned the bar with lonely desperation. I got the impression that she might spend more time socializing with cats than people. Immediately, I feared for my quiet lunch. She looked like trouble, a talker. Dining alone, not carrying reading material — she was on the prowl for social interaction. I fled back to my magazine, and watched her out of the corner of my eye. If she pulled out a book, I'd be home scot-free. If not...

She greeted the bartender and placed her order, something I didn't recall seeing on the menu, deep-fried smelts. When you eat at a Mario Batali restaurant, you expect to see things like pork cheeks and oxtail, so her order didn't faze me. It's what she said next that did.

"Have you tried the smelts?" Since the bartender was gone, I knew the question was meant for me. Out of politeness, I looked up and saw her wide manic eyes trained on me with an unnerving intensity. I shook my head and quickly returned to Crain's, suddenly engrossed in the Executive Moves section I had just finished reading — anything to be left in peace! She made a few more stabs at conversation, regaling me with scintillating facts — the smelts were available only on Fridays; she hadn't had breakfast — but I ignored her. She couldn't stop talking about herself and I was determined not to get mired in a one-sided conversation.

When the bartender took my plate away, he asked if I had room for gelato. I declined. Then a man in his 50s sitting on the other side of me, two seats away said, "The gelato is excellent. Have you tried it?" I said I hadn't, but that I'd be late for an appointment if I stayed for dessert. "Oh? What do you?" he asked, and we launched into a lively conversation that made me ten minutes late for my appointment.

But Enough About Me, What Do You Think About Me?

Later on the subway, I began to wonder what it was about these two different people who had tried to talk to me. Why did one succeed and the other fail? I honestly don't believe it was a gender issue. I enjoy talking to both men and women. And it wasn't the difference in conversation starters, smelts vs. gelato. I hate to admit it, but looks played a part. We're told never to judge a book by its cover, but with limited time and too much to think about we have to make split-second decisions about people all the time. She looked needy; he didn't.

But there was another critical difference: how they entered the conversation and what they focused on. While Smelt Lady barged into my space, interrupting my reading with a question about her experience (had I tried the smelts she'd just ordered?), Gelato Guy waited for the right time to join a conversation in progress with a question about my current experience (had I tried the gelato the bartender had asked about?). They asked basically the same question, but the focus was different. He crossed the gap; she stumbled into it.

Unlike your grandmother or your therapist, strangers don't want to hear about you, especially right off the bat. The fear is that you just won't stop. Smelt Lady was unstoppable. I sensed it the second she walked in and she confirmed it as soon as she spoke.

Networking Is About Relationships

To engage others, whether at a networking event or in a restaurant, you have to do the work and make the sacrifice. First, find an opening and segue into it. Repeat after me: Transition good, intrusion bad. Secondly, put your interests aside and ask questions about them. Listen to their stories before telling yours. You'll know you've hooked them when they turn the tables and start asking questions about you.

All relationships begin with conversations and all good conversations are at least two-sided. Knowing how to cross the gap to meet a willing party on the other side is a key skill every networker should master.