The monologuer

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The monologuer is probably the most prevalent type of conversation killer. Most commonly male (talks about his job) the monologuer can also be female (talks about her wellness).

The defining characteristic is an ability to talk under wet cement and a talent for circular breathing. The circular breathing means they never have to pause for breath. If by chance you do get to ask a question or make a comment, the monologuer is not listening. They’re just waiting for your mouth to stop moving so that they may continue their monologue as planned.

The interviewee

This is the person who assumes you are asking them questions because you find them fascinating. They don’t get that it’s actually because you are hoping for some conversational quid pro quo.

I once interviewed a man at a party for a good 45 minutes about franchises. He was a franchisee and I now understand every aspect of that concept and how he implements it on a day-to-day basis. He, however, still knows nothing about me.

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The vague question-asker

“How’s things?” is their opening gambit. I don’t like vague questions because I generally have trouble making decisions. So if someone asks me, “How’s things?” I simply don’t know where to begin. There are so many things that “things” could entail: my mental state, my physical health, my existentially pointless job, the state of my chronically leaky roof.

Asking generally about “things” means I have to sift through them all and make a whole lot of decisions about what’s socially appropriate before I put my mouth into gear.

The party barnacle

This is me. At a party, if I find someone who will put up with me, I graft myself on like a barnacle and refuse to let go. Even when the conversation has petered to a dribble of “so” and “anyway” I simply cannot bring myself to leave.

Being a barnacle does not make for good conversation because it means you just say things to keep the other person from wandering away. Dead-end things like, “Have you had one of the chicken sticks yet?” or “Where’s Bob gone?”

The oxygen thief

This is a subset of the barnacle, but this barnacle doesn’t actually offer anything towards keeping the conversation afloat. Neither do they move on, monologue, ask any questions nor give answers that will underpin further verbal interaction. They just stand there and suck up all the oxygen.

Let me put it this way. If the conversation were a game of catch, they just keep letting the ball bounce onto their chest and fall to the ground. They don’t pick it up. They just watch as it bounces slowly to a halt and rolls back to you. Then they wait for you to throw it again.

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The “throw it out of the circle” guy

This is the guy who takes your topic and shuts it down with either a discrediting “fact” or a dismissive scoff. It’s the equivalent of taking the conversational ball you threw across to them and just randomly chucking it out of the circle, so that it cannot be retrieved. Game over.

The clanger dropper

This is the person who keeps dropping conversation-stopping clangers into the group apropos of nothing. Whether it’s bitching about their ongoing acrimonious divorce or a detailed description of their latest rash, they keep trying to manoeuvre a nicely-ticking general conversation back to something very specific and awkward.

We should all think of conversation as a game of catch. The ball must stay in motion ... you can’t just keep the ball for yourself.

They keep throwing a new ball into the circle that no one is willing to receive.

Which brings me to my final point.

We should all think of conversation as a game of catch. The ball must stay in motion at all times, you can’t just keep the ball for yourself. If someone throws it across to you, get involved and keep the ball in play. Match the other person’s vibe: if they throw it lightly, don’t return it with a cannonball stomach-cruncher.

And if someone wants to move on, don’t keep throwing the ball at them to make them stay.

Penny Flanagan’s latest novel, Surviving Hal, is out now.