Readers & Skimmers
A few months back, I sat beside an old friend at a formal dinner. Call her Penny. Penny and I hadn’t seen each other for about three years, but we’d kept in touch through periodic e-mails. Penny happens to be one of the most industrious, inexhaustibly creative people I know, besides which, she’s always impressed me as having a virtuosic ability to stay connected to her innumerable friends, and to connect these people to each other — effecting introductions that often result in dynamic partnerships.
She’s a nexus, as I told her once (which only made her blush). She’s what might be called a natural expert in networking.
So imagine my surprise when, while chatting over our dinner, that very term arose and Penny sat back in her chair, shook her head, and said matter-of-factly, “You know, I really hate that word.”
“Networking?” I said.
“Yeah. It just gives me the creeps.”
I decided I’d avoid mentioning that it was a sort of keyword that popped into mind every time I thought of her. I gave a moment of silent consideration instead.
Finally I said, “You mean, it sounds too mercenary for your tastes.”
“Yeah! Exactly! I just happen to like people. I find them fascinating. I like to listen to their stories and learn about them.”
Penny’s artlessness is priceless. And I suddenly understood — after thirteen years of observing this woman’s social mastery, her lively, life-loving way of constantly undertaking new, exciting projects and forging relationships with highly creative, one-of-a-kind individuals — how it was that she managed to be so productive, so inventive, so ceaselessly inspired and inspiring.
Instead of channeling her personal and professional energies into schemes to “capitalize” on certain associations, Penny just opens herself, all the time, to the personalities around her. She primes the pump of whomever she’s seated beside at a party. Not because she’s looking for anything in particular, but because she’s unfailingly inquisitive, and always ready to entertain a diverse viewpoint or to query somebody and learn from their unique perspective.
Penny’s what I would call a People-Reader. She listens. Her interest is genuine and personal.
When it comes to books, some individuals are deep readers, plunging into the classics, annotating the margins of every printed page they lay eyes upon, constantly drawing connections between ideas digested from various sources. And some people read only skimmingly, sticking to headlines, or hurrying through great literature, or scanning ephemeral cyber-text.
In a similar way, certain people learn to cultivate deep “reading” habits in their social interactions, while others are content to “skim.”
Talk to Penny at a party and you’ll find yourself in a real conversation. Never will you feel that she’s taking measure of your “usefulness.” There’s always an authentic give-and-take with Penny, a sense of good old-fashioned human interaction — discourse of a kind that seems rare these days. That’s what Penny thrives on; that’s what she’s in it for; she’s never been in it for anything else. (I can only imagine how she’d cringe at the term “social capital,” though surely many who employ it do so innocently.)
Penny knows that the value of our life and our work can only be real if our relationships are real. True connections and meaningful accomplishments begin from a shared humanity.
A People-Reader like Penny never plots and calculates how to make this acquaintanceship or that third-degree connection or that person’s inimitable talent “add up” to profit for herself or advancement toward her own harbored ambition. That’s the stock in trade of People-Skimmers, a whole different breed, the true social mercenaries.
People-Skimmers are unpleasant folks. We’ve all run into them at one time or another. They’re the ones who prowl parties, cv’s pinned to their lapels and ears stopped against irrelevant pleasantries. They hasten through introductions and practice a form of small talk that’s like speed dating for the obsessively professional. Their radars are primed for prestige; human kindness and friendships are merely incidental byproducts of ambition — welcome, but of secondary importance. Not so for the likes of Penny. For her, Courtesy, Kindness, and the Art of Listening are everything.
I believe there’s an awful lot to learn from people like Penny. And I hope I’ve gotten better at really reading individuals as she does. I hope mere headlines don’t distract me too much.
And I believe, though Penny’s too pure to explicitly affirm this, that the deeply human traits necessary for good People-Reading are as fundamental to real success as they are to enduring friendship — and you just might get both in the bargain.
What could be better?
2 Comments to Readers & Skimmers
Nice article. However, you would do well not to categorize people into “People Readers” or “People Skimmers”. There are people who enjoy social interactions, and there are people who don’t. There are people who use other people, and there are people who don’t.
Would you call Albert Einstein a ‘people skimmer’? How about Howard Hughes? Or any number of great engineers, scientists, financiers who loved their work, who would rather spend all day working with a new concept of science or mechanics rather than talking to people.
My point is, there are people who do, there are people who don’t, and there are people who do and don’t. Courtesy, kindness, and the art of listening? Those are either learned, or they are innate to our being, or they are stamped out of us when we were young. To imply that we should suddenly “open our ears” to people is to ask that we become someone we are not.
Michael, Thanks for the comments. I must emphasize that nowhere in this post, or in this blog, have I advocated that one ought to become something one is not. That’s simply not a part of the Soul Shelter vision. (See Tim’s post on this very subject.)
In “Readers & Skimmers” I never intended to bifurcate humanity at large, and am sorry to learn that this wasn’t clear. I merely intended to take up the subject of networking, and posit an observation relating to this blog’s theme of fulfillment: that networking, if practiced in a holistic and humane manner that values people and their unique stories over “social capital,” or relationships over “connections,” can serve as a means to broad personal fulfillment rather than gross personal advantage.
I’m what might be called an extreme introvert. In fact, I would side with Einstein as you characterize him in your example, in that I would generally rather spend my days toiling in my writer’s studio than socializing.
I’ve never been a networker, having bumped into and been repelled by one too many folks who practice networking’s less appealing, and, as I see it, shallow form (here dubbed “people-skimming” for convenience). Actually, it’s these kinds of folks (and I would never suggest that they comprise a full half of humanity; perhaps they’re only a tiny 4% of us, but we’ve all run into them) who do categorize the human race into two types: 1) those who can get me what I want and 2) those who can’t.
But my friend Penny’s comments shed some light on the fact that, for those who would be ashamed to people-skim, or forage for “connections” thusly—and I would venture that individuals who seek fulfillment ahead of fortune are generally of this disposition—there’s a whole other style of learning about people, forging relationships, and finding a nice dose of fulfillment in the meantime.
A somewhat obvious observation, perhaps. But not being a networker in any sense, I’d never quite thought about it, so figured it was worth sharing.
Thanks for reading. ~Mark