OPEN LETTERS
An Open Letter to Conversation Hijackers
Excuse me, weren’t we talking?
Dear Conversation Hijackers,
Do you remember your last caper? I doubt it. You are probably unaware that you even are hijackers. But the rest of us are very aware. Let me explain.
Take that time that one of you, I will call her Stacy, was pouring her heart out to me in an employee cafeteria. Stacy was in tears telling me about her son’s struggles with ADHD. The medicine was helping but the boy was still doing so poorly in school that he may not be advanced to the third grade.
Something clicked in my brain. Realizing I may be able to help, I started telling her about this other woman I knew whose son also had ADHD, and…
And then I noticed that Stacy was looking right past me, her face now behind a happy mask, lit up like a Christmas tree. I turned around to find two of you behind me, laughing and jingling car keys.
— Stacy! You missed Bojangles!
And just like that, in the blink of an eye, I was alone at the table. The three of you blasted off into a party bubble — an airtight cluster of frenzied, vapid banter, the excitement growing with each shriek, squeal, and witty comeback. And I had apparently evaporated into thin air.
Dyslexia. I was starting to say that the woman had her son tested for dyslexia. I would have gone on to describe how learning to counteract the dyslexia had helped that kid improve significantly.
But Stacy had lost interest.
Does any caper like this pop out from your memory? Stacy may remember that I was someone she liked to confide in. Anything else — I doubt it. Because you do not see people like me. You are a tribe that recognizes only each other, and when you are together, anyone else present instantly evaporates.
There was a time when I would have been shocked that you even approached us. Afterall, it was obvious that we were deep in serious conversation. And when I see that, I back off. Unless it is something urgent, I just wait until later.
Because my parents taught us it was rude to interrupt.
Likewise, I once would have expected Stacy to just greet you briefly and tell you she would get back to you. Like I do when someone approaches or calls out to me while I am in a conversation with someone else.
But alas, the years have taught me a hard lesson. Through an unending series of your hijackings at the expense of quiet, serious people like me I have learned what to expect.
I also know that you like to confide in us because we are good listeners. Your other friends are just like you — they will always try to wrest control of the conversation, not to mention spread your confessions around to everyone else. So, you use us as sounding boards to vent and confide in.
And then you toss us aside like a used tissue.
This letter is on behalf of the rest of us, the nobodies you do not remember who are left in the wake of your hijackings. Because, contrary to your impression, we do not actually evaporate. We are still there, in flesh and blood, feeling abandoned, humiliated, and angry.
We are that kid in high school who was confiding to you that he was being abused and was considering running away from home, when your buddies came by. And suddenly you were in a high fiving, back slapping, bro bantering party bubble.
We are that kid who just evaporated.
We are the people who were discussing our team project, anxious to finish up and get home, when you came by and called out to your cohorts among us.
— Jackson! Becky!
And poof! Once Jackson and Becky saw you, they no longer saw or heard us. They instantly lost all interest in the project. You all exploded into dramatic greeting rituals. Time and space no longer existed for you. You were in a party bubble, and you were not coming out any time soon. All hope of finishing our discussion was lost.
We are the evaporated people who were right in front of you, disgusted at how you could be so inconsiderate — yet again.
So, on behalf of us, your victims, I have a this to say to you.
WAKE UP.
You are incredibly rude. You are a gang of social bullies, mindlessly smashing conversations and stepping on people.
KNOCK IT OFF.
I am not asking for the moon. Noticing the difference between people having fun or an idle chat, and people working under pressure or discussing something important, is not rocket science.
Even a child could judge whether to approach and join in, or back off and wait.
Neither is it too much to ask you to respect to the people you are speaking with. Unless you are just shooting the breeze, tell your hijacking friends to cool it.
Likewise, stop using us as confessors. We are not your “spare friends” for when you want to turn off your party switch, remove your happy mask, and “just be real.”
The rest of us do not have switches or masks. We are “real” 24/7. Show us some respect.
Sincerely,
Not Evaporated.
