by Hank Trisler
I got an email flyer trumpeting the fact that Jeffrey Gitomer, a man I much respect and admire was coming to town for a series of “pump ‘em up” sales meetings. I dropped him an email and invited him to dinner. To my great delight, he accepted.
He was just as intelligent and perceptive as I had thought he would be. We had a spirited conversation about the speaking business, the many people we both knew, the economy and our respective families. It was one of those chats you’d like to have go on forever, as it was just that much fun.
Then an odd thing happened. At about half-past veal parmigiana; the conversation turned to cancer. I have no idea how it happened. I’m almost positive it was nothing I did, but I heard this voice droning on about cancer and I’m relatively sure it was mine. I heard myself tell him about my initial diagnosis, the implantation of plutonium seeds in my prostate, the subsequent re-infestation and how the metastasized cancer now occupied my spine, ribs, hips and some lymph nodes.
What was I thinking?
Was I hoping he’d heal me? Not bloody likely. Jeffrey’s a terrific speaker, but he’s no faith healer. Was I looking for sympathy? Probably a lot closer to the truth. It seemed to be working, too, as he now had a very somber expression.
Spurred by my apparent success with cancer, I went on to tell him about my hip replacement, resulting atrial fibrillation, and resulting congestive heart failure. I explained to him about the chief cause of problems being solutions. By this time his eyes had mostly glazed over and he was nodding slowly, apparently in agreement.
I delivered a lecture on diverticulitis and then, when I got to polymyalgia rheumatica, he commented that that "rheumatica" was the worst kind of "polymyalgia." I thought I sensed just hint of sarcasm.
What was I thinking?
Here’s the really sad thing, at least to me. I knew what I was doing. I could hear and understand myself. I could see the affect all this was having on my companion; I was draining all the enthusiasm and positivity out of him and was powerless to stop. It was like an out-of-body experience where I was looking at this blithering idiot going blah, blah, blah and I was unable to shut him up.
What can I learn from this?
I think we are all drawn to talk about that which is of most interest to us. If our companion happens to be interested in the same thing, terrific. If not, too bad, we’re going to talk about it anyhow. This is the ultimate selfishness and is bound to be corrosive to any relationship. Best we watch our listener and if he puts his face in his plate, he may not be interested. We should immediately seek the earliest opportunity to have a nice hot cup of shut the hell up. I knew that, but next time I’m going to do it.
NEVER tell people your troubles. My dear departed friend, Cavett Robert said, “Never tell your troubles to others. Eighty percent of them don’t care and the other twenty percent will actually be glad.” When you tell people negative things, you’re spreading poisoned soil in their gardens. This is not the most direct path to universal popularity.
Keep your fears to yourself, yet share your courage with others. I’ve had a good opportunity to reflect on my dinner with Jeffrey, and can guarantee you that if I’m ever fortunate enough to play that hand again; my companion will have a far better experience.
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