Listen like a man
There is a little Frank at the end to go with today's post.
Here is one of those things that ought to be obvious: If someone comes to you to talk about their problems it requires privilege. Respect is called for on both sides.
Being a respectful listener
We should never trump someone else's problem. We should not say, "Oh that's nothing compared to what I went through." We should not even say, "I know what you mean because I went through something just like it."
Every hurt is the special property of the person who feels it. The man or woman who has been betrayed by someone they love does not need us to remind them that this actually happens to everyone. They need to have us tell them that we understand how much it hurts.
We should never give advice unless specifically asked to give advice. Again, the person who tells me their problems wants someone they know and trust to share their feelings. They do not want some know it all to tell them what to do. If they wanted that, they would have called some feminized jerk like Dr. Phil.
In any case, what advice could we give? Was it Wellington who replied to a young man by saying, "As I see it you have gotten yourself into a dashed difficult situation and now you must work dashed hard to get out of it"? Whoever it was, that is all you can say about ninety percent of the time. Sometimes the honest advice would have to be even tougher: "Yes, you've screwed up and now your life can never be the same." In neither case does it do the slightest bit of good for you to say so. Let your friend talk it out and they'll eventually figure it out for themselves.
It also follows that we should keep whatever we hear to ourselves.
The respect we are owed as listeners
We are also owed respect by anyone who comes to us with their problems. We should not let people we don't know tell us their problems. In Frank's day, you could corner your bartender because men had a different relationship with their bartenders back then. A saloon was a special kind of enclave. Something similar might happen today on a plane when your seatmate might turn to us because he or she has no one else to turn to and we should respect that. And we should remember that this person has made a calculation that we will probably never see them again before opening up.
We would not let friends tell us details of their private life that we should not know. As much as they may want to say this to someone, that someone should not be us. Consider the person's situation charitably before you cut them off but cut them off if you you don't like the feeling this is giving you. If it feels really wrong to you it probably is really wrong. (And don't let anyone tells you private details about their wife or husband under any circumstances whatsoever.)
We should only be listeners for friends. If someone we sort of know but not really comes to us and starts telling us about their problems, they should be politely deflected. If that doesn't work, we should bluntly ask them, "Is there no one else you can talk to about this because you should not be telling me these things?"
That goes double when a woman we sort of know comes to us with problems that ought to be told only to someone she knows better than she knows us. Merely listening to this woman brings us into a more intimate relationship with her and it does so under terms we shouldn't like. This, of course, is a standard plot device in romantic comedy—a woman or man turns to a complete or relative stranger in a moment of need and all goes well. In real life it is an invitation to the blues.
And it goes quadruple if a child or adolescent or someone you have authority comes to you. Treat that situation as radioactive. If you are alone in an closed room, open the door and walk out and lead them to someplace where everyone can see you but cannot hear you. Turn to the person and say, bluntly, "Look, I know you are having a tough time right now you shouldn't be telling me this. Is there someone else you can talk to about this?" If they say no, tell them they should find a professional. Don't offer to find that professional for them. If the problem is really serious tell them to call the crisis line. And then leave.
And now, here's Frank:
There is a little Frank at the end to go with today's post.
Here is one of those things that ought to be obvious: If someone comes to you to talk about their problems it requires privilege. Respect is called for on both sides.
Being a respectful listener
We should never trump someone else's problem. We should not say, "Oh that's nothing compared to what I went through." We should not even say, "I know what you mean because I went through something just like it."
Every hurt is the special property of the person who feels it. The man or woman who has been betrayed by someone they love does not need us to remind them that this actually happens to everyone. They need to have us tell them that we understand how much it hurts.
We should never give advice unless specifically asked to give advice. Again, the person who tells me their problems wants someone they know and trust to share their feelings. They do not want some know it all to tell them what to do. If they wanted that, they would have called some feminized jerk like Dr. Phil.
In any case, what advice could we give? Was it Wellington who replied to a young man by saying, "As I see it you have gotten yourself into a dashed difficult situation and now you must work dashed hard to get out of it"? Whoever it was, that is all you can say about ninety percent of the time. Sometimes the honest advice would have to be even tougher: "Yes, you've screwed up and now your life can never be the same." In neither case does it do the slightest bit of good for you to say so. Let your friend talk it out and they'll eventually figure it out for themselves.
It also follows that we should keep whatever we hear to ourselves.
The respect we are owed as listeners
We are also owed respect by anyone who comes to us with their problems. We should not let people we don't know tell us their problems. In Frank's day, you could corner your bartender because men had a different relationship with their bartenders back then. A saloon was a special kind of enclave. Something similar might happen today on a plane when your seatmate might turn to us because he or she has no one else to turn to and we should respect that. And we should remember that this person has made a calculation that we will probably never see them again before opening up.
We would not let friends tell us details of their private life that we should not know. As much as they may want to say this to someone, that someone should not be us. Consider the person's situation charitably before you cut them off but cut them off if you you don't like the feeling this is giving you. If it feels really wrong to you it probably is really wrong. (And don't let anyone tells you private details about their wife or husband under any circumstances whatsoever.)
We should only be listeners for friends. If someone we sort of know but not really comes to us and starts telling us about their problems, they should be politely deflected. If that doesn't work, we should bluntly ask them, "Is there no one else you can talk to about this because you should not be telling me these things?"
That goes double when a woman we sort of know comes to us with problems that ought to be told only to someone she knows better than she knows us. Merely listening to this woman brings us into a more intimate relationship with her and it does so under terms we shouldn't like. This, of course, is a standard plot device in romantic comedy—a woman or man turns to a complete or relative stranger in a moment of need and all goes well. In real life it is an invitation to the blues.
And it goes quadruple if a child or adolescent or someone you have authority comes to you. Treat that situation as radioactive. If you are alone in an closed room, open the door and walk out and lead them to someplace where everyone can see you but cannot hear you. Turn to the person and say, bluntly, "Look, I know you are having a tough time right now you shouldn't be telling me this. Is there someone else you can talk to about this?" If they say no, tell them they should find a professional. Don't offer to find that professional for them. If the problem is really serious tell them to call the crisis line. And then leave.
And now, here's Frank:
I don't know what prompted this, but I couldn't have written it better myself, I'm copying it to my hard drive. I especially agree with the last paragraph. Those situations are highly radioactive to put it mildly. Even many professionals nowadays only meet clients with the door open and with people routinely walking by or working in the areas outside the room they are meeting, just to cover their behinds. Whatever inhibiting effect this might have on treatment is just a reality we have to live with, and I make no apologies for it.
ReplyDeleteWhat prompted it? I have no experience with anything really serious I am happy to say but I've seen just enough of how being familiar with casual acquaintances can cause minor troubles to have a healthy fear of where it could go.
ReplyDelete