I have a confession to make—I’m a hijacker, and I’m turning myself in. When they arrest me, instead of handcuffs, they’re going to need a muzzle. That’s right. I’m one of those people who hijacks conversations.
My latest offense happened a few days ago when I met a friend for breakfast. I know him to be a devoted husband, father, and Christian. Somehow, we weaved the topic of promiscuity into the conversation.
“Personally speaking,” he said, “without the reinforcement of the church fold, I might be out in the fields sowing a few wild oats.”
Then I basically said, “I’ll take it from here,” and I told him exactly how he would be without his religion. Only I wasn’t even nice enough to warn him. I just took over. The ol’ anything he can say, I can say better.
Here’s the ironic part. (I’m using the word “ironic” to avoid using the word “hypocritical.”) Lately I’ve been telling my wife that I can’t read minds—in those annoying instances when I’m supposed to know what she’s thinking. But that’s a lie. Apparently, I can read minds. Otherwise, I wouldn’t dare finish people’s thoughts. Or correct them and tell them how they really feel, like I did to my friend at breakfast. People need only prime the pump a little for me to snatch the conversation and treat them to an expert’s point of view.
Want more irony? I hate it when other people think they can read my mind, because they are bad at it. The next thing I know, they’re talking, and I’m not, like I’ve just been pick-pocketed. You’d think I’d be tolerant, considering all the hijacking I do, but I don’t like people assuming they know me better than I know myself. Weird how that works.
Later that evening, I apologized to my friend for hijacking the conversation. I told him that I was giving him the benefit of the doubt—if a life of debauchery awaited him outside of his church, so be it. (At the restaurant, I shut him up by telling him that he would likely be the same person inside or outside of his church. Boy, did I blow it. He could have been building up to a titillating confession about a very salacious double-life he was secretly leading. Naturally, being the decent human being that I am, I would be appalled. But being the good friend that I am, I would lend a non-judgmental ear, naturally.)
If my hijacking tendency happens again, if I absolutely must speak when someone else has the floor, if an uncontrollable urge compels me to interrupt, I hope and pray that my only words will be “What makes you say that?” That’s a trick question—meant to hoodwink me into believing that the other person has something more interesting to say than I do. I’m not especially fond of tricks, but I can make an exception for this worthy cause to become a better listener. I prefer it to the trick of my friends wanting me to disappear.
Into the Comfort Zone 