Here I give some thoughts on various topics related to conversations.
The page began with the specific issue of open vs. closed questions, but soon expanded. A particularly important issue, in hindsight, is what questions and whatnots serve as a pretext for something else (e.g. to start a conversation) and what should be taken at face value, and what the effects and implications of taking the one for the other might be. This issue is mentioned repeatedly below, but, as a consequence of the history of this page, has not been given a separate discussion.
To this the caution that I appear to be more literal minded than most and that the risk of complications might be smaller for and with others or, more generally, for two counterparts that have a sufficiently similar communication style.
I make repeated references to the stereotypical this-or-that and might implicitly draw on stereotypes on other occasions. Here the usual disclaimers around stereotypes, correctness, individual variation, etc. apply; however, are mostly of little practical relevance, as the illustrations of principle still hold. The point shortly below, e.g., is not that teens and parents behave in a certain manner—it is to illustrate what can happen when different behaviors (and expectations) clash.
Conversations have different purposes and to give a treatment that considers all possible purposes in any given situation would make the page much longer. Instead, I mostly avoid the issue of purpose and rely on the reader to make mental adjustments as needed, say, in that advice on which stranger to prefer for a conversation does not apply when a talk with some very specific stranger is wanted (e.g. because of romantic interest or in order to network with a VIP).
The use of the word “conversation” is deliberate, as the situations are usually casual in nature, often involving small-talk, attempts at bonding, or attempts at just establishing a first contact. However, similar ideas can often apply to more serious interactions that deserve names like “discussion” or “debate”.
And under no circumstances do I support the current trend of abusing “conversation” as a catch-all term in lieu of “discussion”, “debate”, “argument”, “controversy”, and similar. (Consider absurd claims like that a reader on the Internet should “Join the conversation!” around some piece of writing, that there would be a “national conversation” on some controversial political topic, whatnot.)
As the page was revised over time, more examples of a romantic nature were added. Matters of e.g. more non-romantic sexual intentions are not mentioned (and do not necessarily meet with my sympathies), but can be seen as included in the discussion of romance, with only minimal mental adjustments needed. Flirting falls a little between the chairs, in part through its variation in purpose (ranging from entertainment or diversion to a preliminary in a more serious romantic or sexual approach) and its variation in type (ranging from the entirely non-verbal, which is arguably off-topic, to the entirely verbal). Here the mental adjustments might be larger, but they should still be tolerably small.
A common recommendation is to prefer “open” questions to “closed” questions.
Broadly, speaking the latter seek or allow a “yes”, “no”, or otherwise very short answer; while the former seek or require a longer answer. As will be clear from the below, I am very sceptical to the idea, and might see the benefit as limited to (a) signalling interest (which can be better done in other ways), (b) moving onto a specific topic, which has little to do with the issue of open vs. closed questions.
A problem that has been glossed over in all discussions that I have, myself, seen, is that the intents and expectations of the asker might not match the responses of the counterpart, which, as seen below, leaves hardly any natural question truly open. (For simplicity, I will use “open” and “closed” mostly with an eye at intent below.) I suspect that many authors have a hyper-naive belief that the counterpart truly and positively wants to engage, while, in reality, the case of the reluctant counterpart is both common and much more interesting. If in doubt, if someone truly and positively wants to engage, even a small “in” is usually enough. Some reservations are needed for e.g. the very shy, but, for the purpose of stimulating a conversation, they might be better grouped with the reluctant counterparts in the first place.
As to “natural”, a sufficiently contorted question or, better, request might truly require a longer answer or an explicit refusal to answer, but would hardly serve in a normal conversation. Consider, as a variation of the below, something like “Give me a complete description of all interactions that you had with your teacher today!”. For that matter, non-questions might be superior in general, as with e.g. a “Tell me about your day!” over the below “How was school?”, even while not solving the underlying problems.
For simplicity, I will consider requests like “Tell me about your day!” questions. Someone who objects to this can simply replace any given request with an actual question to the same effect. (In the open case, these questions will usually be less effective; in the closed, they might be better by reducing the risk of rudeness, as with “What time is it?” vs. “Give me the time of day!”.)
For instance, consider a stereotypical parent–teen exchange after school:
P: How was school?
T: Fine. [With shoulder shrug.]
P: What did you do today?
T: Stuff. [With shoulder shrug.]
The first question is at least semi-open and is likely intended as an invitation to share—and, maybe, something that once brought on an enthusiastic monologue, during years when the (now) teen was more interested in sharing. The second is fully open and is a clear second attempt. Both result in an answer worthy of a closed question, because the teen at hand is simply not interested in communication. The second might have an outright negative effect, as an intention of prying might (fairly or unfairly) come across to the teen, which will reduce the chance that future attempts will be successful.
In reverse, if someone has a strong interest in interaction or communication, minimal or no prompting can lead to an excess. A stereotypical female teen might grab a snack, go to her room, call her BFF, and spend the next two hours spontaneously talking about exactly how school was and what she did during the day. Likewise, if the above teen truly wanted to communicate with the parent, a simple “P: Hi, kiddo!” could be enough to launch a stream of words. (Possibly, preceded by a “Don’t call me ‘kiddo’!”.)
Some differentiation might be needed between the “conversation starters” in the above examples (also see below) and questions used to keep an already started conversation going, to extract information (e.g. during an interview), or to serve some other purpose. However, in most cases, the same idea will hold, that “open vs. closed” matters far less than actual interest and that the better approach is to keep that interest up. A slow and faltering conversation, e.g., might simply lack a topic that is sufficiently mutually interesting.
Another issue with open questions is that they might be too open. I have often reacted to an open question with some variation of “Could you be more specific?”. Yes, a very open question does give more to talk about, but this then forces a choice on what to mention and not to mention, and with no further information about the intent of the asker, how are we to make that choice? (The hitch is that the asker will sometimes not actually be asking for information and will sometimes deliberately leave the choice entirely to the counterpart.)
The more important issue is simply that different combinations of topics and counterparts have different levels of attraction—and that an open question does not alter the level of attraction compared to a closed question. Above, switching the counterpart brought on a greater wish to communicate. In another continuation, the parent might have been successful through finding a more attractive or acceptable topic. (Also see excursion.)
Some are willing to talk about anything with anyone; some about the right topic with anyone; some about anything with the right person; and some might not want to discuss anything with anyone. For many or most, however, it is truly the combination of topic and counterpart that matters.
Other factors to consider include the current mood/activity/whatnot of the intended conversation partner and the overall circumstances. (This the more so for strangers, as discussed further below.) Above, a conversation teen–parent might have prolonged the time until a conversation teen-BFF could take place, which gives negative incentives for the teen to talk with the parent. A classic example in relationship literature is the contrast between a housewife bursting to talk with an adult once her husband comes home from work, and a husband who is tired from said work and just wants to relax with the paper and a cup of coffee for half-an-hour. Naturally, he would be much more open to a conversation after that half-an-hour than before it. Personally, I have always been (even) less open to approaches when I was reading a good book—and open questions might now be worse than closed ones, as they take longer to handle than the closed ones, which increases the delay before I can continue with the book. (Alternatively, a shorter answer can be used, but only at a greater risk of coming across as rude.)
An interesting issue with books is that they might seem like a great opportunity to start a conversation, where the enthusiastic reader hears a “What are you reading?” and spontaneously discusses the book for half an hour. This might work with some readers, but not everyone is alike, not everyone wants to share, not every book read is suitable for discussion (or discussion with the counterpart at hand), and timing is important. To the last, many who are open to discussing the book in principle would very much prefer to read on in the now and take the discussion once the book is finished, both to avoid delays in the reading and to be able to speak with a fuller knowledge and understanding. By analogy, if someone watches a movie, few approachers would actually consider pressing the pause button and beginning a conversation about the movie. (But note that a “What are you watching?” is more likely to be a face-value question than “What are you reading?”, e.g. to decide whether joining the watching would be worthwhile or, if asked by a parent, to judge whether the movie is “age appropriate”.)
The original teen–parent example can easily be extended to point to the dangers of pushing too hard. Above, we have two questions, which, if unwelcome, will rarely be worse than a nuisance. Tag on another few questions and the situation might be different. Attempt to force a conversation, e.g. by some type of guilt angle, and things could turn quite bad.
Even an accepted conversation starter need not be beneficial, if interest was lacking. What if the counterpart spent some time talking out of politeness or a sense of duty? If he did not enjoy it, if he saw it as a chore, if it delayed a more interesting activity, whatnot, little good has been achieved—and an outright negative development is at least possible. A too talkative, yet uninteresting, colleague might eventually be avoided, for example. Ditto a colleague who, even while interesting, keeps someone else away from work for too long, implying that too little work gets done or that the “victim” must compensate through working longer hours.
Particular caution should be taken before seeking someone out for a conversation. The original example might have played in a natural manner as the teen came through the door or went to the kitchen—but what if the teen was already in her room, possibly about to dial that BFF, when an annoying parent steps through the door with a “How was school?”. Such seeking out might be better saved for cases with a more purpose-filled motivation, e.g. that “Your teacher called and we need to discuss X.” or “Mrs. Y is looking for a baby sitter for tonight. Are you interested?”.
There are at least two major points that are usually neglected:
Firstly, depending on what the stranger is doing, he might be more or less open to a conversation. Notably, someone who is currently occupied with something that normally (a) requires a more-or-less sole focus, (b) is pleasant/entertaining/whatnot, is unlikely to be open. (Consider reading, again: out of two strangers on a train, the one who stares out the window and looks at his watch every two minutes is a better target than the one who is engrossed in a book.) Ditto, when (b) is replaced with something potentially important, urgent, whatnot, e.g. for someone on that train trying to finish some work task before arriving at the office.
Secondly, there is a time and place. Notably, different venues have different purposes and not every purpose is compatible with conversations. A train is normally compatible, because there is rarely anything with the train or train ride that requires a deep involvement of the passengers (but parallel activities, e.g. reading, might). A museum is a different story altogether, because a museum does require a deep involvement (at least, if the visitor wants to benefit). The line of a grocery store is perfectly fine, as the fellow customers are rarely doing anything productive, but other parts of the store visit require caution, as the conversation is likely to interfere with them and to cause delays—and the period of direct interaction with the cashier should usually be reserved strictly for the cashier. (Very purposeful interactions, e.g. to point out that the fellow customer dropped something on the ground, are acceptable—but are hardly conversations.)
An issue of a different character is the risk that a pretext backfires through being taken at face value. A literal or metaphorical “Excuse me, what time is it?” causes me to give the time and, barring unusual circumstances, then to consider the interaction ended. If the counterpart actually wanted the time of day (or whatever the question aimed at), this might be fine, but if the subtext was “I am bored while waiting for the train and would like to kill some time with you” disappointment results. Now, if “I am bored [etc.]” was actually spoken, the chance of success would be far greater.
Yes, asking for the time of day usually results in a question that has a “closed” character, but the actual problem is something different, viz. that a pretext is taken at face value. Certainly, a stranger who walked up to me and asked me to “Tell me about your day!” would, if anything, fare worse. (Maybe to the point of “Take a hike, crazy person!”.) Someone could conceivably follow the request for time of day with an attempt to discuss the counterpart’s wrist-watch, but the success of that would, again, depend on how interested the counterpart was in that discussion—not on open vs. closed questions. A “Hey, is that a [brand at hand]?” is likely to work as well as or better than “Tell me about your watch!”. (An even better approach might be to offer some own words, e.g., if truthful, “Oh, a [brand at hand]! My father had one of those, [etc.]”, as a starting point for a conversation, with neither an open nor a closed question.)
While the above applies over a wide range of motivations, the specific motivation of romance is of importance and can lead to judgment calls. For instance, it appears that some women’s magazines give the outright recommendation to go to museums for the purpose of finding a man—a man found there is seen as more likely to be intelligent, “cultured”, or whatnot, so the museum would be a much better choice than a bar. But a man in a museum should be there to learn something, to look at art, or whatever applies to the museum at hand. Abusing the museum for pick-up attempts is, at best, ethically dubious. (But some leeway can be given if the woman, too, is there for a more legitimate purpose and coincidentally finds someone with potential. Even then, it is better to gauge any mutual interest first, e.g., by noting who looks at whom when, and only to approach if such an interest seems to be present.)
The issue with pretexts is also deepened, because men are more likely than women to take pretexts at face value and are often oblivious to specifically romantic intents: Even a pretext that is adequate as a (platonic) conversation starter need not be so for a romantic approach. To ask for the time of day is best done when the time of day is actually wanted; it might or might not work as a pretext for a conversation; it falls well short, should the target be romance. In the last case, even if the approach does result in a conversation, chances are that the man will have an entirely different mindset than if he had some prior awareness of a romantic intent, which reduces the woman’s chances. Moreover, there are cases when a man might be open to the conversation if he has romantic hopes, but not if he expects platonic small-talk (which is usually boring and pointless). In reverse, if he is entirely uninterested in the woman, his awareness of a romantic intent can help shorten the interaction, with less time wasted for both parties.
Notably, the problem with the “plausible deniability” that (in particular) women seem to strive for is that the more plausible the deniability, the greater the risk of being taken at face value. As long as other women might actually want the time of day, it pays to be more explicit, e.g. by suggesting a cup of coffee or leading with a “handsome”. (The infamous “line” might serve a valid purpose here, as an indirect declaration of intent.)
Throwing a wider net, some types of pretexts can be outright unethical, e.g. the approach of a neighbor/colleague/classmate/whatnot for time consuming and unpaid help when that help is not actually needed and the true intended purpose is to spend time with him in the hope of developing a romantic connection.
A common, and very simplistic, piece of advice is to steer a conversation onto the counterpart, because “Everyone wants to talk about himself!” (or similar). Such humans are, of course, common, but a great many exceptions exist—and the exceptions are usually the more worthwhile humans to begin with.
This is also an illustration of an ever recurring problem with advice in a certain type of literature, from a certain type of expert, whatnot: that recommendations are based on a majority or (even) large plurality without concern for how often the advice given will fail due to the great number of exceptions. (While fields like communications, PR, management, etc., are common sources, the problem is far more widespread. It is not necessarily the field, it self, but the type of person attracted to the field.) Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” contains many examples.
When reading such advice, I often have to note that I would, if anything, be put off by its use against me. A particular negative was a book on NLP in which the authors again and again and again tried to use NLP trickery on the readers. (For instance, variations of “as you read this chapter, you will realize that X”—as opposed to e.g. “in this chapter, I will argue that X”.) The tricks were usually see-through to begin with, but, had they not been, the book would either have taught the readers sufficiently much about NLP that they would have seen through the tricks (in which case a negative reaction was to be expected) or it would not (in which case the book failed to even remotely live up the reasonable learning expectations of the readers). This is sufficiently long ago that I do not remember title and authors—but I do remember that I reached a point of too great annoyance well before hitting the half-way point of the book, at which point the book hit the wall and then my waste basket.
A key issue is, indeed, whether the intended victim is sufficiently intelligent, educated, or previously aware of the tricks that he sees through them.
I, e.g., am much more interested in talking (and writing) about factual topics and, especially, what connections, causalities, implications, and similar might follow from a certain set of facts and observations. When a conversation comes too close to myself, I might even try to divert it elsewhere, because I do not wish to share some things or because some questions have no good answers. Consider, in an attempt to follow-up on one of the above conversation starters, “What is your favorite book?”: I have read so many books, by so many authors, in so many genres (fiction) and fields (non-fiction), seen so many changes in impressions from a first to a second reading, and seen so many changes in my taste between one age and another, that I simply could not answer that question. (And I would not necessarily take someone seriously who, beyond some age, does answer a question of that nature.) Depending on the circumstances, it would also be possible that the answer could be embarrassing/harmful or would require elaboration in order to not be embarrassing/harmful—or result in a lie.
For instance, my first thought when once being asked for my favorite book was either the “Narnia” books (collectively) or “The Magician’s Nephew” (specifically). (After which competing book after competing book occurred to me, and I saw the question as impossible to answer even to some approximation.) Now, imagine if I had just blurted out “Narnia!”.
Some might approve of the answer, others might disapprove, others yet might consider me an idiot—and the clear majority would see these as “children’s books”.
At a minimum, I would have needed some type of disclaimer or explanation to elaborate that the “Narnia” books are not just excellent children’s literature and a fond memory from my own childhood (which might be enough for some), but that they have levels and layers that do make (at least portions of them) a worthwhile read even to an intelligent and educated adult, and especially one who has read some of Lewis’s more adult works and can see them in a bigger picture of his thoughts and worldview. Every read has, so far, made me see something new and understand something that I did not see respectively understand during the previous reading—they are much deeper than even much of the ostensibly adult literature that I have encountered, let alone, say, the “Harry Potter” books.
Similarly, consider the question “What are you reading?”: The clear majority of my readings are of non-fiction, including on topics like politics and science, and I often deliberately pick fiction readings of a much “lighter” type, up to and including a “James Bond” book or the odd “young adult” book—and this especially in environments, like trains, where it is hard for me to concentrate. Let us say that I was reading “Goldfinger” and a beautiful young woman asked “What are you reading?”. What answer would serve me (or a more approachable version of me) better—the truth or “Madame Bovary”? (At the time of writing, the latter is the last “serious” work of fiction that I read, but in the comfort of my own home where no-one would have asked that question.)
I very often write about myself, but it is always to achieve some purpose of a very different nature from a mere “wants to talk about myself”, often to illustrate something based on my own experiences or to use myself as an example—as in this text. (I suppose that I could do it the Carnegie way and use cherry-picked, poorly understood, and/or distorted examples from the lives of others.) Even this paragraph has a clear purpose, if a self-serving one, namely to preempt accusations of hypocrisy or whatnot.
There is also an important difference in terms of willingness, in that I, here, share what I want to share, while a stranger on a train might ask for what he wants me to share, or otherwise bring the discussions into areas that I might want to keep private. That I share X here does not mean that I would share Y on a train, which weakens the advice under discussion. (Purpose: Strengthen my criticism of that advice.)
A minority of cases, I admit, can come close to a “wants to talk about myself”, including texts aiming at releasing tension during never-ending construction work, and texts that partially facilitate self-exploration or serve as memory aides. These, however, would have low relevance when we move to a strict “talk” situation and, even in writing, are not necessarily intended to be read by others. (Purpose: Mixture of giving the reader a more nuanced understanding, self-exploration, and another preemption of hypocrisy accusations.)
What then might happen if someone tries to start, prolong, or deepen a conversation with some such simplistic trick and has the “wrong” counterpart? A follower of Carnegie might come at me with something like “It must be fascinating to be a Swede living in Germany! I wish that I had the opportunity to live in a foreign country! Tell me all about it!”—after which I would likely be looking for ways to terminate the conversation entirely. (In contrast, something like “I read your text on X, and I disagree concerning Y, because of Z.” might interest me, provided that Z was thought-worthy.) When it comes to a point of some salience, we might also have to factor in a saturation factor: some other Swede living in Germany might be interested in talking about that once or some few times—but, after some number of repetitions, the weather might be more interesting. The problem here is that if something is an obvious in-road, then it will be obvious to others and others might use that same in-road. Likewise, someone famous or important might be met with a very similar set of questions in most conversations, interviews, and whatnots—and often questions that were superficial, pointless, or unimaginative even the first time around. (Successful athletes might see questions like “How did it feel to win?” or “Are you disappointed about losing?” ad nauseam.)
The famous and important might provide a clue as to why the trick sometimes works, by imagining a reverse scenario: someone who wants to feel important and never has the opportunity might relish the attention, while someone who wants to share something has a similar relish for a rare opportunity to share.
While some of the above addresses the idea of counterparts, times, and places that are not ideal for a conversation, there is, of course, another side to that coin—when we fail to start/continue/deepen a conversation that could have been beneficial.
Two important special cases:
Failing to approach someone or being lazy in approach when an active approach is called for. (Shyness and nerves are the most common issues, especially in a romantic context, but not the only ones. Likewise, while the example given below is romantic in nature, the issue is much more general.)
Consider e.g. a stereotypical female method to (not) approach a man for romantic purposes in a situation like a coffee shop: She might take a seat near him and wait for him to start a conversation, while putting no further effort into the matter than, say, some not-too-obvious body language or a slight display of more leg than a natural position would give. (With similar applying with some modification in a wider range of contexts, e.g. in that a teen girl might make sure to stand close to her romantic interest during a break, e.g. in that “not-too-obvious” and “slight” might be replaced with something less subtle in a bar.)
Chances are that he simply will not talk to her at all (and, if he does, they might be at cross purposes, e.g. because he requests the time of day after his watch has stopped). And why should he? If in doubt, other women sit near him every day without any particular agenda. (Even without entering upon complications like his potentially being preoccupied, already having a girlfriend, being ignorant of the latest set of “Cosmo”-prescribed tactics, whatnot.)
It is then better for her to (attempt to) initiate the conversation herself. He might, as in some above cases, be uninterested in talking with her, or he might be open to a platonic conversation and be uninterested in romance; however, her chances are still better and, if she fails, she now has the advantage of being able to move on that much faster.
In the overlap between the current and the following item, and as a segue from the one to the other, we have the odd idea that men would enjoy talking with women and/or enjoy talking with beautiful women in a manner that exceeds any enjoyment from the talk as such, implying that a good looking woman could expect her target to strike up a conversation by dint of her merely being present. (As opposed to striking up a conversation in the hope of getting her into bed, which requires much more in terms of confidence than a mere conversation, or to gain some other advantage. Alternatively, some might assume that any man will automatically approach any attractive woman that seems even remotely available, which is highly naive where most men are concerned.)
While I do not rule out that such men exist, I am certainly not one of them. In as far as I engage in conversations at all, it is the topic and the exchange of ideas that might interest me, not the identity of my counterpart. Many others are indisputably more interested in talking in general, but most men, unless driven by a romantic intent, simply seem to prefer other men as counterparts for a conversation, with a greater chance of common interests, similar priorities, a focus on a non-gossip topic, and whatnot. (If in doubt, while men likely talk about women and/or sex less than women do about men and/or sex, the topics do occur—and are much more awkward and less likely to occur in a man–woman conversation than a man–man one.)
To boot, many men (especially, the young and bookish) become nervous with attractive women in a manner that makes an approach less likely, in particular when they actually are interested.
Not engaging in a conversation, because there is a short-term disadvantage with no offsetting short-term payoff, say, because talking to someone is less interesting than continuing with a good book or because doing so would increase the amount of time spent in the office until the work at hand is actually done.
Conversations, however, can have a mid- or long-term payoff, through mechanisms like relationship building, accumulation of sympathy, networking, and similar. This especially in a business setting. It is, for instance, far from uncommon that a promotion goes to the mediocre colleague who has invested in a relationship with his boss, while the objectively better choice, who spends his time in the office actually working, is left out. At worst, someone snubbed in favor of a book or work might misconstrue the motivation as a personal dislike and develop a dislike in return.
Likewise, conversations can open some unexpected doors. This, again, in particular in a networking context. However, consider even romance. Say that someone is approached by a woman who asks for the time of day (cf. above): If her question was romantically motivated, not engaging is a wasted opportunity; if she just wanted to kill some time with a platonic conversation, the resulting conversation might still have resulted in romance down the line (or a networking contact); and even if she genuinely just wanted the time of day, chances are that she would have been open to a conversation, and we are back to the middle scenario.
For those inexperienced with casual/social/whatnot conversations, including versions of me into my twenties (well into, after factoring in the effects of moving to Germany, with a switch of language and a loss of old social contacts), there can even be a tendency to avoid them for fear of awkward silences and whatnots. While such fears can be well-founded, dodging these conversations comes with the additional penalty that it takes longer to learn how to keep a good conversation going for pragmatic purposes (as those mentioned above)—it is better to rip off the band-aid, take the awkward silences today, and to do increasingly better in the future. (Casual conversations are very different beasts from, say, discussions of work problems. The same band-aid idea applies to speaking another language post-migration—take as much of the pain as early as possible and the gain comes correspondingly early.)
What makes a certain combination of topic and counterpart attractive or unattractive is an interesting question, but one which goes far beyond the current scope.
An important observation, however, is that different individuals can have radically different takes, as can the same individual at different times and/or in different roles. A teen–parent clash is particularly likely.
Another, that many divide their world into spheres that (they feel) should be kept separate to the degree possible. Commonly occurring (but by no means mandatory) examples include (for teens) school vs. home, teens vs. adults/teachers, and the children of the family vs. the parents; and (for adults) work vs. private life and the “guys” resp. “girls” vs. home.
Looking specifically at myself and school, then and now, I used to have a strong school vs. home separation. Any attempt by my mother to discuss school breached the virtual wall between the two and (usually) met with my disapproval. Today, I can see how this might have been to our mutual disadvantage and I would, imagining myself as a parent, certainly appreciate more openness from the children than I, myself, displayed. Ditto when my younger sister’s “home room” teacher once wanted to talk to me (!) about her scholastic issues and what might be behind them—here, to me, school intruded on matters of home. Today, I might have considerable ethical concerns about a teacher talking to me while circumventing my mother and, likely, going behind the back of my sister, but would have recognized his good intentions and the potential benefits to us all from resolving problems at home.
TV often makes good use of such divisions. For instance, many of the “fight evil” series have a division into a home/private sphere, a school/work sphere (with a potential subdivision into a sphere with students/colleagues and another with teachers/supervisors), and the sphere of fighting evil—often with complications ensuing from the attempts to keep the last strictly separated from the others. (Note e.g. “Chuck” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”; however, others, e.g. “Supernatural” and “Ash vs. Evil Dead”, operate in more-or-less a single sphere.)
As the above discussion of “favorite book” should make clear, there is a danger in giving the counterpart a question that requires deliberation and/or longer explanations. (Ditto, to some degree, questions that are “too open”, cf. above.)
Exactly this, however, is the problem with many allegedly good questions. Some time after the original writing, I did a bit of reading on the Internet on topics like conversation starters, and found quite a few examples that were highly problematic and certainly would have been more likely to harm than help someone attempting to start a conversation with me. Consider something like “What is the most interesting thing that happened to you this week?”: It might be that I had something particular and suitable on my mind, but chances are that I would need to play through large parts of the week in my head and then judge several alternatives, in order to give an honest answer, which would then result in a conversation hole of several minutes. (In contrast, “The most interesting thing that happened to me this week!” might make a reasonable essay topic. On the upside, with a bit of luck, the conversation hole would cause the asker of the moronic question to leave.) But would I, event thinking time aside, want to give an honest answer? What if the most interesting thing is of a too personal nature or something that would take too long to explain? What if nothing truly interesting has happened or if it takes the right type of mind to understand why something was interesting? Or consider something as trivial as the problems caused by the formulation involving specifically “this week” (which was the case; as opposed to “last seven days”)—chances are that this would work very poorly when approaching someone at a train station early Monday morning.
Another odd, and repeated, suggestion was a blanket “Tell me about yourself!”: Where do I begin? Where do I end? What do I prioritize? What are you doing the next six months? What is any of your business, random stranger? Etc. This question might or might not work with someone with nothing to tell or, say, an “intersectionality” victim, who might answer by stating race, nationality, sexual orientation, and whatnot—and genuinely believe that this answers the question in a meaningful manner. A more reasonable counterpart might simply counter with something like “Well, what do you want to know?” or “Well, that is a very wide field. Could you be more specific?”, while answers like “You go first!” seem very tempting (and might teach the original asker a valuable lesson).
I stress that this was in the context of general conversations and/or conversation starters. In some more specific contexts, e.g. an employment interview, some justification might be present, because this then simply invites the counterpart to state what is contextually relevant, to give his “spiel”, to hold his elevator speech, or similar.
(Of course, the type of person who has a ready-made elevator speech for more general contexts than an employment interview is usually also the type of person who does not need prompting to hold it.)
Yet another odd and repeated example was “What are your expectations?” (with some variations, including “in life” or for something more specific, notably, the event at hand). Superficially, this might seem to be a reasonable question when tied to, say, a lecture set to begin in five minutes, but discussing expectations is tricky, an honest answer by many would amount to something like “a chance to get out of regular work and to do some networking”, and many other answers would be trite—as when a lecture on X is held by Y and the answer is “I expect to learn something about Y’s views on X!”. Naivety is a very likely problem among those who attempt a good-faith answer, because those wise to the world are careful about having expectations, be it because expectations are often not met, because the true value of something is not necessarily found where expected, or because expectations can throw us off and make us less open to what value there is. (By analogy, consider watching a randomly picked movie with the firm expectation of a rom-com: even a great action movie will miss the expectation and might come off as considerably worse than with the right or with no expectation.) Moving on to “in life” or some other bigger item, expectations of a positive kind are usually a sign of someone young and naive, while the wiser might expect “death and taxes” and some other seemingly unavoidable problems, and otherwise take things as they come. (This often combined with the insight that if we want something positive to happen, we cannot just passively expect it, but should take action to make it happen, moving us from “I expect life to give me X” to “I expect that if I do A, B, and C, then I will have a reasonable chance at getting X”. Likewise, in the smaller, passively hearing a lecture is rarely a good way to learn something—at a minimum, active thought on the matter is necessary and reading a good book on the topic is usually far better.)
Other examples abounded, but were not repeated in different sources, were less idiotic, and/or have been forgotten by me. A common lesser issue, however, was a certain triviality that might work well with the one but not with the other, including me. Consider something like “What is your favorite color?”, which many can answer off the top of their heads, reducing the risk of a prolonged silence, but which is unlikely to lead to riveting conversation outside those who deal with color professionally, even in general, and might make someone like me consider the counterpart an idiot to the point that even small-talk would be impeded: “You met me thirty seconds ago and you want to know my favorite color?!?”. This the more so as the question is far more complex than it seems and those who do give an off-the-top-of-their-heads answer often do so for naive reasons or with a great lack of precision. (In fact, I find myself tempted to write up “favorite color” as another idiotic example on the level of “favorite book” and to find some other case for this paragraph...)
Not only is there much very disputable advice out there, but it also appears that most texts on these topics, and many other topics in areas relating to human interactions, leadership, business methods, whatnot, are written under the assumption that the reader is an idiot. (Which, in turn, usually leaves me with the impression that the author is an idiot.)
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