When less is more

Sometimes the person who seems reserved at first glance has the strongest message

“The secret to life is to put yourself in the right lighting. For some, it's a Broadway spotlight; for others, a lamplit desk.” (from Quiet: the power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking by Susan Cain, 2012)

Taking my turn at hosting gatherings and group activities such as book clubs, writers’ critique circles and neighborhood committees has taught me a bunch of useful stuff. One of the most practical skills I’ve had to learn has been the sometimes tricky task of creating a social environment where everyone has a chance to contribute. And in this effort, I’d say that having some introverted tendencies (On the Myers Briggs intro-extro scale I’m 55/45) has helped greatly. Contrary to much of the conventional “wisdom” I’ve heard and read, every personality type has gifts to contribute and challenges to overcome. When dealing with people in any context, one size does not fit all.

Especially during times when any given group has been working out complex issues or asking hard questions, I’ve really appreciated my quiet colleagues. They often spot things that others miss, such as small nonverbal cues that a reticent participant is uncomfortable with the direction a discussion is taking or wants to contribute an idea, or that everyone present just needs a break. “Reading the room” accurately is a crucial yet often underestimated skill. So is the ability to present a thoughtful analysis of a situation, something which can often only take place after absorbing the information through careful listening, asking clarifying questions, then chewing on it before offering suggestions. Often the participants who, given our cultural biases, may appear slow are the ones who assess the situation most accurately and form the most thoughtful responses.

Even in settings where an outgoing approach or jocular manner supposedly works best, such as customer service or sales, there will be customers/clients who respond more positively to a quieter approach. At the food bank where I volunteer, some customers are receptive to the manner that might be called stereotypically American - grins, the bright howdy-do, exchanging personal information and physical contact such as the touch on the shoulder. However, some customers, especially older people from certain immigrant groups, shrink back from a manner that implies a familiarity or bonhomie which they themselves don’t feel. A fellow volunteer was on a mission to pry a smile from the elderly Vietnamese man who goes about his business with silent and solemn intent. I doubt it’ll work; in some cultures the auto-smile and chatty demeanor aren’t the social coin that they are here. And a serious or neutral expression isn’t a necessarily a sign of unhappiness, or of anything in particular.

I’ve worked in customer service in both the public and private sectors. Part of American business culture is the dogma that an affable performance is absolutely necessary in every interaction. My own honest feeling is that this has cheapened the value of genuine smiles and expressions of gladness; psychology experiments have shown that subliminally people can tell the difference between real and put-on. (https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2019/07/01/735822187/the-science-of-smiles-real-and-fake).

Of course it’s best to be pleasant unless the customer’s behavior calls for boundaries and assertiveness. But in the NPR article I found it interesting that one study showed that service workers who are required to smile all day have a higher risk for after-hours drinking problems. When I’ve visited the UK and several countries in northern Europe, grocery store staff have always been pleasant but they don’t grin from ear to ear and chirp “Have a nice day!” And the shoppers, including me, are just fine.

And many of us women who’ve worked in social occupations can remember the “You’d be so pretty if you smiled more,” which brings up another issue altogether. When I asked my three male library coworkers whether they’d ever been so advised, each of them looked at me as if I’d sprouted a second head.

In the various organizations where I’ve worked and volunteered, some of my coworkers were energized by staff meetings that resembled high school pep rallies run by a highly animated cheer squad. And others were more motivated by a laid-back factual “Here’s what we need to do” ambience.

Paying attention to signals is important not only in task-centered group activities but also in purely social situations. If you’re at a family gathering in a restaurant and Great-Aunt Ruby is TMIing the waiter with details of her knee surgery or the accomplishments of her brilliant grandchildren while he’s making desperate attempts to politely pull away and get back to work, it helps to have a noticer in the group. Especially one who’s OK with giving Ruby a foot-nudge under the table. In her book The Art of Gathering author Priya Parker makes a point that sometimes somebody needs to step in, and that person may be the guest who’s been quietly observing and who can be diplomatic.

Extroverts themselves don’t always have an easy road, given cultural expectations. One member of my extended family, a young man known for his generally cheerful outlook and hail-fellow-well-met manner, remarked that since that’s his image, he feels like he’s not allowed to be sad or pensive.

For society to function in general, we need people up and down the extrovert-introvert spectrum. Appreciating and acknowledging the contributions each person brings to the table could go a long way to helping life run more smoothly.