Deep (Throat) Lessons From Bob Woodward

July 2005

Forget “gabbing”—strike up conversations, then listen up

By Matt Baron

I’d heard the phrase many times before, but for some reason it grated on me recently when a young lady uttered the words: “I don’t have the gift of gab.”

An aspiring communications professional—she wasn’t sure what realm yet—she had just spewed the verbal version of nails on a chalkboard. I nearly leapt through the phone as I admonished her never to repeat the phrase.

“Even if you think it’s true,” I cautioned, “don’t say it.”

Besides, if she ever wanted to get “the gift,” then it would come only after she stopped treating it as some special possession that descends from the heavens at birth.

The truth is that the “gift of gab” is not a gift at all. It’s a series of choices, and the biggest one is to choose to put your focus on others rather than yourself.

Professional, ethical, effective journalists cannot write with long gazes into their navels. They must seek input from other sources.

Public relations professionals seeking to build solid rapport with media members do not merely “smile ‘n’ dial” and hope that some coverage-worthy mud sticks to the wall. PR pros try to figure out how journalists tick, what they are looking for, and in what form they prefer to receive information.

The top-performing salesman poses a few questions, allows the prospect to talk about his or her objections and needs, and then zeroes in on the closing approach that stands the best chance for success.

In all of those cases, the individual seeking to learn more from key contacts is taking a page out of the playbook described in Dale Carnegie’s classic “How to Win Friends and Influence People.”

Carnegie shares the story of how he met a botanist at a party and sincerely began asking questions about his world. The botanist talked for hours. At the end of the evening, he gushed to the host about Carnegie, whom he described as a “most interesting conversationalist.”

“An interesting conversationalist? Why, I had said hardly anything at all,” Carnegie went on. “I couldn’t have said anything if I had wanted to without changing the subject, for I didn’t know any more about botany than I knew about the anatomy of a penguin. But I had done this: I had listened intently. I had listened because I was genuinely interested. And he felt it. Naturally that pleased him. That kind of listening is one of the highest compliments we can pay anyone.”

How cool, you may be thinking. Why is it so rare?

Much of the answer boils down to fear. Fear of the unknown and fear of rejection are two biggies.

Those are self-absorbed ills. All of the focus is on your little self, and worst-case scenarios of what could happen to you. Besides that, they are statistically remote illusions, a fervent faith in negative results that hardly ever materialize.

Consider what you can gain by practicing the discipline of focusing on others, of speaking very little and listening very much.

In his account of how he first met W. Mark Felt, the man who would later become his pivotal Deep Throat source, Bob Woodward experienced the powerful impact of looking beyond himself and stepping out of his comfort zone.

In 1970, while he was in the U.S. Navy, Woodward was in the White House waiting to deliver documents to the chief of naval operations. Felt sat down near him. After several minutes of silence, Woodward introduced himself.

For many of us, saying anything to a stranger can push us out of our comfort zone—especially when we are in the company of someone whose stature may intimidate us. (Woodward recalled Felt as “very distinguished looking” with “a studied air of confidence.”)

Woodward went on to share more about himself with Felt. Though the older gentleman initially did not reciprocate, he became more engaged when Woodward hit on common ground. Woodward was taking graduate courses at George Washington University, and Felt replied that he had gone to night law school there before he joined the FBI.

Bingo, a key fact emerges. From there, the two found more common ground and spoke at length as Woodward continued to push through any comfort zones he may have had.

“I peppered him with questions about his job and his world, and as I think back on this accidental but crucial encounter--one of the most important in my life--I see that my patter probably verged on the adolescent. Since he wasn’t saying much about himself, I turned it into a career counseling session.I asked Felt for his phone number and he gave me the direct line to his office. He was going to be one of the people I consulted in depth about my future.”

Woodward is being overly modest. This was no “accidental” meeting, for the simple fact that Woodward’s boldness and persistence transformed what could have been a routine, superficial mutual head-nodding moment into an historical turning point.

Think about your moments, minutes, hours and days ahead.

It’s not a gift, it’s your choice.

What’s the worst that can happen if you say “hello” to someone on the elevator? How uncomfortable is it, really, to introduce yourself to someone in the crowd at the city council meeting? Why don’t you make that contact you’ve been putting off for days?

Better yet, ask this question: What’s the best that can happen?

So strike up a conversation. More than likely, you’ll be amazed by what you learn.

BARON BIT: Develop the discipline of remembering folks’ names, and spelling them correctly. Being able to recall a name is the gateway to subsequent conversations. Conversely, don’t assume somebody has remembered your name—reintroduce yourself to spare the person any potential embarrassment or awkwardness