Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Guido Problems: How to Deal with Complainers



I think we can agree with Katie: conversations with serious talkers can be THE worst.  One particularly frustrating brand of serious talker is the classic “complainer.”  This person’s idea of a gripping conversation involves giving you an exhaustive laundry list of recent traffic jams they’ve encountered, observational comments on poor weather, and numerous other bland misfortunes that pop up throughout their days.

If you enjoy listening to this kind of verbal torture, then more power to you—you must have either the patience of a saint, or the hearing abilities of Helen Keller.  If not however, here are my top three go-to responses reserved for complainiacs.

Guido Problems
Ever have to listen to someone rant on and on about how they couldn’t find their car keys one morning?  These little rant sessions can seem to last forever when you’re on the receiving end.  While it would be nice to bellow “WHO CARES?” in response, society sadly deems this not socially acceptable.  An effective alternative I’ve recently begun to employ is to respond with a cryptic yet sympathetic “guido problems!”  Unless you are talking to an actual guido, this phrase won’t really suit the situation perfectly.  But it will probably cause the complainer to cock their head in confusion long enough for you to make an escape even more glorious than Andy Dufresne’s.
 


Womp Womp Womp
One type of complainer that is especially difficult to deal with is the “Debbie Downer.”  This person will complain at length to anyone who will listen, and if you make the fatal mistake of attempting to turn their frown upside down with a “look on the bright side” approach, they will undoubtedly counteract your positive point with a negative one.  Let me warn you now: there is no reasoning with Debbie—your optimism is futile.  Instead, try responding with a well-placed “Womp, womp, womppp!”  No, it’s not exactly a sympathetic response, but sometimes Debbie needs to be called out for her wompish ways.  Bonus points if you can play the trombone, as it really adds authenticity to a womp.


Well if You Think That’s Bad!
Perhaps the most effective way to defeat the complainer is to beat them at their own game.  It works like this: the complainer shares a banal story of misfortune with you.  You respond with, “Well if you think that’s bad…” then follow up with a fictional account of an extreme story of personal misfortune.  If you’re comfortable, dig deep in that imagination of yours and come up with a doozy all your own.  If not, movie plots work great as well!  See example below:

                Complainer: Oh man, I couldn’t decide between the chicken or the steak at the restaurant I went to last night.  I hemmed and hawed before deciding on the steak.  What a mistake—the worst steak I ever had!

                You: Well if you think that’s bad, you should hear about a similar tough decision I was recently faced with! So I was on this huge boat the other day, and found myself engaged to a wealthy man I didn’t love, when I met a handsome, penniless artist who looked a lot like Leonardo DiCaprio.  I had so much trouble choosing between them, but finally chose Leo.  Then the ship sank, and my new paramour died of frostbite.  It was dreadful!  But you know, sounds like you had a pretty rough night with the steak, wanna keep talking about that instead?


Boom!  Complaint: neutralized, and you can kiss Debbie Downer goodbye!

2 comments:

  1. Leo seems like a bit of a Debbie Drowner... Amiright!?

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  2. I think we can agree that Joge is on to something. She has a plan to deal with complainiacs. A great label, BTW. I must adopt this approach in the future. My current method of muddling through such social dreck always leaves me, and the offending drone, I assume, less than jovial.
    As an aside, how is it that this phenomenon is so universal? Where do these dullards come from? I know we are here to help others, but are we here to hear others as well?
    The problem is my best ideas, come backs, and plans, sadly, show up eleven minutes late. This means one minute after I've executed a one eighty on the physically static, verbally active energy sink. Employing mathematics to the situation reveals a loss of ten minutes. Ten minutes of life lost. And they ain't coming back.
    My current technique is to first mark the time and then go to my happy place, while feigning large amounts of interest. The important thing is that they can't tell. I hope. And I truly hope there will never be a way for them to find out. That could prove disconcerting.
    They will be yammering on about lost keys or traffic jams for example, and I will be flying, usually aerobatics. They will be warming the atmosphere with history of their dying cat, dog or cat or whatever and I'm skiing. Quite well, thank you. They will be explaining in intricate detail a gross inequity they're experiencing at work, and I'll be skateboarding. There are at least two problems with this technique.
    The first problem is if the social load stops blathering in the middle of one of my royal reveries. I don't see it coming, and how could I, and they put the brakes on. If it's a really great flight, I'm finishing it. So, I don't run right off. This could cause the meathead to actually believe I'm interested. In more.
    The second problem is time spent, or more accurately, wasted. It must be limited. With all respect to happy places, there must be limits in this world. I often don't wear a watch. This is why I employ outside stimuli as an alarm clock. If the two legged burden is going on about something potentially interesting, I will wait for three planes to pass over. If they're banging on about weather, two overflying birds they get. If today's topic is family or work related, the next car I see with four wheels takes it.
    I will definitely try the Joge Technique in the future. That's my plan and I sincerely hope you finished your flight before I finished my speech.
    Stone Thrower

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