I caught up with Stuart Thomas last month. He wasn’t in town promoting his book “Getting to No, the Art of Passive Aggression,” at least not officially. I saw him at a holiday party.
Holiday parties are a trade off. On the one hand, we get to reconnect with friends we haven’t seen in a while and have drinks and snacks on someone else’s tab. On the other, it is the time of year when weather is rotten around here and getting out of the office or even the car is not something I look forward to doing. Anyone who sees me can tell I have plenty of drinks and snacks at home so there is a delicate balance between free drinks and the comfort cost of going out to get them.
“How are things, Stu?” I asked.
“Not so bad really, I can’t complain,” he replied. I knew this wasn’t true. When two old friends get together, there is always something to complain about.
“You know what I miss these days?” he asked without missing a beat.
“Your memory? Knees that don’t hurt? Can you give me a hint?”
“Good conversation,” he said, not bothered in the least by my sarcasm. “A lot has changed over the years, and the art of party conversation has been lost.”
I scratched my head a moment, but he was right. Gone are the days when politics and religion are on the forbidden list. More important than being alert to the topics we know to avoid are the people we try to avoid at gatherings. Stuart and I made a list:
Bob Loblabla aka Bob the bloviator. A conversation with Bob is a conversation only in the most general sense. Rather, it is an involuntary monologue that holds the other person prisoner. We look for an exit or pray for our own death to get out of these conversations. Sadly, the best way out of an encounter with a Bob is to avoid him altogether. The second best escape is to introduce Bob to another unwitting victim and then slide away.
Karen Controversy. Karen isn’t always a Karen in the modern sense, but there is some crossover. Karen avoids polite party patter to start a discussion that will lead to an argument right from the start. I was visiting with another lawyer when Karen walked up and began to ask my compadre about his firm’s diversity practices and what they were doing to hire more bilingual attorneys. As a solo practitioner, I had nothing to add to the discussion and slipped away, leaving him to fend for himself.
Terry Two-Bears. Terry doesn’t get his moniker from a native American background, but rather his habit of unfaltering one upmanship. If you say, “I shot a bear while camping,” the words will barely (sorry for the pun) be out of your lips before Terry will tell you about the time he killed two bears on a canoe trip using only some dental floss and his wits. Your best bet for escape from a Terry is to find a nearby Karen who is anti-bear killing. Those conversations are actually fun to watch, but only from a safe distance.
Buddy. I don’t remember Buddy’s actual name, but he or she remember an uncomfortable amount of facts about me – my wife’s name, what my kids do for a living, and a (semi) interesting case I handled against him or her in the past. “Good to see you Buddy,” is the best greeting I can muster and hope not to reciprocate with a question that is uncomfortable. I failed at this recently, asking a Buddy how his wife was, only to learn that they were divorced.
Frank Freeloader. Frank knows everyone and always shows up at holiday parties. If he learns there is a lawyer present, he will unleash a torrent of questions looking for free advice. Same if he sees a doctor or plumber. The good thing about Frank is he is easy to spot and avoid- he is the guy with the plate loaded up like the Tower of Babbel.
Stuart and I agreed that if you don’t recognize these folks, you may be one of them. After we commiserated about the death of conversation, We headed off in opposite directions. He saw a Bob headed our way, and was kind enough to give me a wink and a nod. I escaped towards a face I recognized who greeted me with, “Buddy! How are you?”
©2024 With All Due Respect. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this publication or directly to him via email at farris@farrislaw.net. He apologizes to Mitch Albom, but doesn’t really think his chances of meeting anyone in heaven are very good.