QUESTIONING QUESTIONED QUESTIONS
I've been mildly criticized of “never asking questions” of other people. This has been brought up several times over the last few years and so I'm inclined to believe it; but it also feels like a curious observation on several fronts.
Let's pretend for the moment that I was loath to ask folks questions in conversation. Why would that be? I do find that if I'm patient and not probing I tend to learn much more about a person by the information they volunteer, and then by what they don't disclose as well, consciously or otherwise. I would kill virtually all that learning by asking questions. Asking questions, as far as I can tell, only delivers you at a lack of good information, even under ideal circumstances, among peers and when two people are completely comfortable. But when is the situation ever so ideal and the questioning reasonable or legitimate?
Well, how about when on a job interview or a blind date? These would seem perfect scenarios, where getting to know someone is really the whole point. As a starting place, in both scenarios, an interviewer simply cannot know what questions need asking. Responses in this setting tell an interviewer virtually nothing about how a person will behave under different, more common and less formal, circumstances. (The information actually being sought.) That's a terrible starting place. Then, added to this, the interview scenario is so highly irregular and disconnected that they're unlikely to elicit a good response, nevermind a best response. (I've certainly never left a job interview or a date and not wished I'd said something different or later realized that I misunderstood the question or that their reaction meant they had completely misunderstood me...) And then, in both cases, questioners are seeking, or maybe even feeling they desperately need, someone to fill a role. In this case questioners are primed to find reasons to hire, or have a second date, and not labour to find the very best candidate. Again, a terrible situation.
For another example, what about a parent and child? If you arrive home from school (a day of nagging, interrogations, public performance, recitations, assessment, unwanted exposure, harassment, and criticism...) only to be pointedly asked by a parent “What did you do today?”, what are the chances you're going to give a response they're happy with? I mean, is “What did you do today?” ever a legitimate question, of anyone? I don't think this is a question. The parent is most certainly never after the answer. Like, if you started your response with, “At 7:36 I awoke, sat up, and looked at the clock on my desk. Still tired, I yawned as I climbed out of bed, stepped down on Boba Fett, yelped, then moved slowly, limping across the cold floor of my bedroom to the dresser standing in the corner...” your parent would look at you like you'd lost your mind. Right? That's because they're not interested in what you did today. And it makes no real sense for you to summarize your day at school, to be honest, telling them:
I spent almost all of our class time daydreaming, doodling, creating little dinosaur sculptures out of paper and spit while pretending to read, and making faces with Tomas – all just to get through the day with my spirit and sanity intact. Oh, and because I wasn't standing perfectly silent and motionless in the line-up waiting to go to gym Ms Johnson came up behind me and dug her nails into my neck and then yelled at me. She's seems, at the very least unprofessional and, well, to be frank, emotionally retarded (retarded: from the French retardé, meaning: “to be delayed, subnormal, or backward”). During recess, what did I do? Oh yeah, I played soccer. (Have I ever told you that I fucking hate soccer?) Oh, and at lunch I was chased by two jerks in grade seven who threatened to kill me, and then I spat on Karen. Why? Because, she's been harrassing me for weeks and it continued today but with the addition of her calling me "dick face." Oh yeah, and I found those twins, those little guys in grade one, in the washroom picking one anothers' noses and eating it.
Instead of interrogations, or even direct questions, if you want someone to open up and share, and to do so honestly, is there any doubt that the best way to create space for and invite sharing is by talking about yourself; being casual and honest about yourself and your life while bringing up themes you wish to learn about from the person you're speaking with? In a worst case scenario, let's say you talk for seven minutes about your job. And let's say I have nothing to interject the whole time, and then also have nothing to say about my work, can't think of anything to talk about that relates to what you said or, worse, I need a prompt. Well, it seems evident that I, in fact, am the problem. Not you. I either wasn't paying attention or I'm a dispassionate, lifeless machine with no experience or interests to call upon in conversation. (Too harsh? Well, what else explains this?)
So that was an interesting bout of speculation. But let's step out of the theoretical and back into reality.
The most recent instance of my being accused of not asking questions is the most interesting. It's the only instance in which such a conversation was recorded. The person I was communicating with made their comment at the end of a long written correspondence. So, having our entire communication immediately available, I was able to go back and review exactly what happened, when, and how.
As it turned out, of the dozens of questions asked, I asked only one fewer than my interlocutor. And, what's more, they seldom actually asked questions but instead made statements or had reactions to what I wrote that were not overt questions at all, and only passively invited retort. Things like: “So you haven't really been able to have days off? That's too bad.” or “A worker-owned co-operative bakery? Interesting.” Whereas I would ask very clear questions seeking specific information, like: “So have you been snowboarding much this season?” and “I don't think you've ever told me, what brought you to Canada originally?”
So if I asked many questions, and by my biased assessment what I would say are real questions, what explains the discrepancy between what actually took place and my friend's perception of our exchange? Seems to me it must be that they were not getting the kinds of questions they expected or were wanting. What else could it be? I don't know.
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