Filling the communication gap

Frustrated? Go crazy, get divorced or try this trick

Communication is crucial in relationships. The fact that this topic crops up constantly both in private life and business is a sure indicator of its importance.

But what if the communication just isn’t working? This is particularly problematic with your significant other, someone with whom you spend a lot of time with — sometimes your whole adult life. That’s a long time to be communicating poorly.

Let’s say the communication is not working well, and you have already read a pile of self-help books, attended workshops and watched countless YouTube videos to discover the secrets of good communication. You feel you have a good handle on the key principles, but your partner sees no necessity to do likewise. They’re just fine with their communication style.

In their eyes, you’re the one with the issue. You got a problem? You deal with it.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

There is a lot of truth to the old adage that you cannot change your partner, but you can change yourself whether it’s attitude, behavior or both. This includes adjusting your own communication style to make up for their deficits.

If this sounds like a less than ideal solution, that’s exactly what it is. It’s a way of coping with the shortcomings of a partner, something we all must do at one time or another, regardless of how starry-eyed we were on our wedding day. Every person and thus every partner has lesser or greater deficits.

Coping with manageable deficits is necessary for a successful relationship. Cope, go crazy or get divorced.

I observed a friend dealing with a communication impasse with her husband in a masterful way. Her method was so simple yet so effective that even though this happened well over 10 years ago, it remains as fresh in my mind as if it were last week. I learned a key lesson that day, a technique I have used countless times since.

You can use it, too.

Here’s the story. We were several families on vacation together on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, an area famous for its beaches and huge vacation rental houses built to accommodate large groups of people. There were about 10 of us, standing around shooting the breeze about where to go for dinner. Hanging out in the kitchen, we were variously draped on barstools or leaning on the counter, tossing out different ideas about where to go. On our drive to the beach we had already spotted several potential eateries.

Except for Bob. He did not form part of the group, instead standing slightly back at a distance, watching and listening.

“There’s a Mexican place that looked good,” said someone.

“Oh, I love Mexican! Let’s eat there!” I said, already anticipating refried beans and margaritas.

“I saw a steak joint that looked good, too,” someone else added.

This was a great option for the three gluten-free folks among us, not so much for the vegetarians.

Then my husband chimed in.

“How about seafood? After all, we’re right on the coast. I love fish!”

At which point I remind my husband that our two daughters and I are still vegetarians.

The only person not participating in this banter was — you guessed it — Bob.

Bob is my friend Claudia’s recalcitrant husband of many years. He routinely says nothing in a group discussion. An uninitiated bystander would think that he was uninterested, but he is actually paying close attention to all goings on and building his own opinion. In silence. This makes him a master observer, one of the great advantages of being a non-participant in a discussion.

The downside of this, of course, is that your opinion doesn’t get heard.

This is where Claudia’s role comes in, at least as far as Bob is concerned. He expects her to listen closely, too, and to manage the discussion in his best interest. He assumes that Claudia will put in two cents on his behalf. That’s right, on his behalf. And while Claudia is very nearly a mind reader after many years of marriage, she is still sometimes unable to intuit his needs.

And why should she, you ask? Why can’t he speak up for himself? He’s a big boy, after all. How ridiculous for her to have to step in and say “Hey guys, Bob wants Mexican! He’s a big burrito fan, so he votes for Casa Grande, right Bob?”

Why should she speak up for him, indeed? A very legitimate question, one that has been a hot topic of discussion between Claudia and Bob countless times over the years. Ranting and raving, pleading, reasoning in neutral tones — none of this has inspired him to change his behavior. He simply won’t speak up.

Whatever happened to the idea that communication is 50/50? You give some, you take some, you meet in the middle somewhere? Or how about, say, 60/40? Can we do 70/30? 80/20? No?

No.

Claudia couldn’t change her partner, so how did she deal with a situation like this? She had two options: a) get divorced or b) cope by finding a solution, even if it is suboptimal.

Claudia found a solution.

I call it filling the communication gap. If your partner is not willing to stretch 50% of the way across the communication divide, then you’ll have to figure out a way to extend yourself not just to the halfway mark, but beyond it to make up the difference. Maybe it’s an additional 10%, 20% or 30% — only you can decide when the effort is too much. At some point it’s just not worth it anymore, in which case you’ll have to resort to option a (or go crazy).

Some people have a natural knack for this hyper-communication, but it does not come easy to everyone. It is a highly valuable skill, also in a business setting. The ideal meeting moderator will take mental note of both loquacious participants and the reticent ones and make it a point to elicit opinions from the latter. Precisely because of their silence, they have been able to listen attentively to all sides of an issue and weigh them carefully. They have not been wasting energy positioning themselves optimally to impress others, as type A personalities are wont to do in groups.

It is these silent participants who are often the ones with the best ideas — but will only voice them if they are asked. A good moderator will clear the verbal platform for them to allow space for their ideas, making any results a true team effort.

As for Claudia, she was not always adept at filling the communication gap. In the early years of their relationship, she just assumed that Bob was listening but had no opinion and whatever everyone else decided was just fine with him. After all, if he had been listening the whole time without saying a word, he must be in agreement with the conclusion of the discussion.

Wrong, wrong and wrong again! After everyone else had given their opinions and reached a joint decision — and it was a done deal — Bob would wait until no one else was around and turn on Claudia, full of fury.

“Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted?” he would snarl.

“I hate that restaurant — why are we going there?”

Claudia would be stunned and at a complete loss for words. Why hadn’t he said something during the discussion like everyone else? Why was he only saying something now that it was all over? How did this somehow become her job?

Very good questions indeed. To which there are no good answers.

After a few years of this behavior, Claudia devised a battle plan.

Let’s return to the kitchen in our rental house on the Outer Banks of North Carolina where everyone was casually discussing where to go for dinner, throwing out their opinions, except for Bob, as we saw earlier.

After about 10 minutes of weighing up options, Claudia turned to face Bob — squarely. Both feet planted firmly on the floor. Full frontal confrontation.

There was no misinterpreting this body language.

“Bob,” she said loudly and evenly, looking him in the eye.

He had no choice but to meet her stare, as did the rest of us. Her posture was so commanding, we nearly stood at attention. What was coming now? We were about to find out.

“We’re having a discussion here about where to go to eat,” said Katie. Loudly.

At first I couldn’t believe my ears. Did she think he was deaf? He was standing there the whole time! Why was she reiterating the whole conversation?

She continued quickly and loudly, never breaking her gaze.

“Someone has suggested Mexican, a steak joint was also brought up, and going to a fish restaurant was also an idea. What are your thoughts?”

Still standing firmly. Facing Bob. No escape.

Bob floundered (unrelated to the fish restaurant), shifted his stance and mumbled.

“Uh, well, lemme think…”

“OK,” says Katie, loud and firm, but patiently.

We all just stood there, watching and waiting.

Bob was clearly uncomfortable. Tilapia, tacos or T-bone wasn’t exactly a tough decision for the rest of us, but it sure seemed to be for him.

“Well, I guess…maybe…uh…” he muttered.

“Yes?” said Claudia, loud and firm. “What?” Her gaze was still unbroken. The rest of us were holding our breath, spellbound by this kitchen drama. Nobody said anything, just waiting to hear what Bob would say.

“Mexican.”

“What??”

“Mexican! I guess Mexican would be my preference,” muttered Bob under his breath, looking only at Claudia even though all of us were listening and watching. He was communicating with her only, not to the group.

At this point, Claudia broke her stance, whirled around and made a formal announcement:

“Bob would like Mexican!”

Yay! Hallelujah! Yippee! He said Mexican! Bob had made a decision!

I felt like I had just won at bingo!

Relief washed over us, but most of all, we were dumbfounded by this ridiculous situation. The discussion had just taken place right in front of him — why hadn’t he simply joined in?

Then it clicked. Claudia had long since learned exactly what Bob would have done if she hadn’t forced him to participate in the discussion, albeit on a one-on-one basis. He would have pulled his usual tactics: Kept quiet, pouted and gotten angry at her when his silent opinion wasn’t miraculously “heard.”

Stupid? Yes. Crazy? Yes.

But it worked. And works. It’s a brilliant coping mechanism that is easy to deploy. Not everyone is as recalcitrant as Bob, but many people fail to voice their opinions when it matters. And sometimes opinions matter — a lot. Unspoken, they are still there and festering, perhaps leading to a disaster down the road that is much greater than a less-than-optimal dinner choice, such as a movie you didn’t really want to see, a work task that is unsuitable, or even a partner you’d really rather not be with.

Claudia has used this superskill that she originally developed to communicate with her husband as a springboard to communicate better in general: with her children, her employees, basically with anyone else who for whatever reason hesitates to voice their true thoughts. I have also discovered her extracting things out of me that I didn’t know were there. Usually I’m the one coaxing opinions and decisions out of others. Perhaps, but I am no match for Claudia.

Claudia turned an exceedingly difficult situation into her own personal training ground; now she is the master. Her skill has helped her navigate other difficult situations in her life in cases where other, poorer communicators would have failed.

Nobody’s a perfect communicator. We cannot change others, but if we hone our own skills, sometimes we can compensate for the communication gaps that occur when others lack the expertise. There is often much more at stake than what to have for dinner. Most of the time, it’s worth the effort. Sometimes it can even save your marriage.