Listen

Sometimes listening can save you the trouble...

Of all the things I take for granted, I’m constantly surprised by how valuable listening can be. There’s more to it than hearing the words someone says to you, or the sounds around you. I’ve found that really listening to the conversations around me is a way to learn.

One of my part-time jobs when I was younger was working for a small greeting card company. The owner/creator, myself and the marketing manager used to work together through the day, talking to each other when we had the time. The tasks I had to do were fun, but they left my mind free to wander. During those days I not only developed a greater appreciation of ABC Radio National (which we listened to every morning), but I also realised a lot could be learnt from listening to the conversations my colleagues had on the phone. Some may say this is eavesdropping, but it was more the communication skills that interested me, rather than specific conversation topics.

Since then I have been more aware of how listening can create a better environment to work in. The number of times I have heard people say they need help, and then been able to offer my assistance has definitely increased. Plus, when you have to deal with people every day in your job, it helps to know how to really listen to what they’re saying.

Humans tend to say more than the words that come out of their mouth. The tone, emphasis and pitch all help indicate what’s really going on. As if the English language isn’t hard enough to navigate already, we can also gauge someone’s mood from their physical stance and facial expressions. In a sense that’s going beyond listening and into the realm of observing, but it’s all important in the end.

I once had a conversation with two friends which became quite amusing and frustrating. We were excited by some ideas being thrown around, when suddenly one of my friends quietly said, “I don’t think I can cope right now.” My other friend continued to talk excitedly, but I looked at her to see if she was alright. In an instant I suggested we get together later on and wound the meeting up as fast as possible. Afterwards, my stressed friend thanked me for my concern and explained that she had too much on to think about our project. She said it was a relief just to have someone acknowledge her concerns.

Imagine how many times in a day we don’t really listen. Supermarkets are a great example. I’ve been on both sides of the counter at these places, so I know what it can be like going in there. The classic “not properly listening” conversation goes something like this:

A: Hi, how are you?

B: Good thanks, how are you?

A: Good, and how are you?

At some point after A has asked “how are you” for the second time, both people realise the mistake and generally smile awkwardly for a while before the customer pays and leaves. Part of it is the monotony of the job, but part of it is not listening. It’s not exclusive to supermarkets either. I’ve had people do the same thing to me at cafes, bars, work…and the list goes on. If we want to know how people are, why don’t we listen when they tell us?

Creative Community

The bello bridge...an icon of my hometown

Brisbane's Brunswick Street Mall

I was tired, stressed and running late for my Monday morning meeting, walking brusquely through Fortitude Valley’s Brunswick St Mall when the pedestrian light changed to red. Instead of scowling or huffing in frustration, a smile came to my face. I wasn’t running late to a job I didn’t want to be at, or to the impending university lecture where I was to be assessed on a presentation I’d barely planned, I was going to something more important to me.

One of the things I love about drama is being able to tell stories. The other thing I love is being able to give something back to the community in a creative way. It’s fun, and seeing others have fun is part of what keeps me going. The project I’m working on now, the one I was running late for yesterday, will involve me and two others improvising and facilitating drama games for a specific community in the city. I was smiling because I felt as though the meeting I was about to enter would be challenging and fun. It ended up being a lot of work (there’s the challenge), but talking to everyone involved was a lot of fun.

Yesterday afternoon I met with a 17 year old girl who is involved in several volunteer community organisations, studying at university full time, and president of an organisation she founded for like-minded young people who want to help the world. The organisation was created late last year and is already developing a project with the State Library of Queensland to get a mobile book library for the Indonesian city of Depok. I’d never met this girl before but we got along instantly, connected by our similar interest in communities.

One thing I’ve learnt from growing up in a small town, and doing drama work with community groups, is that engaging with people from difference communities is a positive thing to do, but one which can often be overlooked. I used to know the names and phone numbers of my neighbours. Now, living in the city, I only know my neighbours as The Woman Who Talks Really Loudly On the Phone Right Outside My Window and The Family Including Someone Who Plays the Flute Loudly at Night. While I don’t really mind not knowing my neighbours, it’s disappointing that the neighbourhood community seems so disconnected.

The community work I engage in, and the people I meet through it, are all really friendly, creative people and I think that’s what makes the organisation so enjoyable. It could be like any other job – doing assignments, reporting back to people, discussing fees and budgets and resources – but it’s also a social activity. The reason I enjoy my classes at uni so much is because everyone gets along and knows each other well. The reason I volunteer to work at open days, or be a student mentor or any thing else for uni, is because I get on with the people I end up working with. And the reason I do drama projects in my own time, and have a passion for it, is because everyone is so easy to get along with.

When I compare these groups and activities with my current neighbourhood, one question arises: all around us are communities, but how often do we realise it, and actually engage with them?

Thanks, but I don’t trust you

Money or trust - what's worth more to you?

I was walking through the parking lot on my way home, laden with badly packed plastic bags that could have broken any minute, when I saw someone’s wallet sitting in the middle of a parking space. There were a few people around, mainly shoppers and a group of school-aged boys hanging outside a fish and chip shop right near me and the wallet. I couldn’t leave it sitting there out in the open because eventually someone might come along and figure they’d scored big. So I picked it up and took it to the fish and chip place, letting them know I’d found it and wasn’t sure what else to do with it. The guy thanked me and I went on my way.

Walking home I started thinking about the time I lost my own wallet a couple of years ago. It had fallen out of my pocket and I never saw it again. Luckily there’d only been $20 in it, so I didn’t lose much cash, but losing all my cards made me realise how important the things you keep with your money can be. I would have preferred to lose more money and keep my cards in the end because it was such a hassle to organise new ones. But I learnt my lesson and I’m constantly aware of where my wallet is these days, and if I see anything that looks like it’s been lost I make sure I do something about it.

The one I picked up was a lot thicker than mine has ever been. I don’t know what the person kept in there, I didn’t look because it felt invasive. Perhaps I should have looked anyway.

While I was in my reverie of wallet losses and life lessons that lead to good actions, a car pulled up in front of me. The driver wound down the passenger window and called out.

“Excuse me,” the man driving said looking directly at me, “did you pick up my wallet in the car park?”

“Yes, I did. I gave it to the fish and chip place because I didn’t want it to be outside. They should have it.”

He nodded impatiently, giving me the impression that he’d already gone and got it. “There was a lot of money in it before.”

“And it’s not in there now?” I asked, trying to figure out what he was really saying. I hoped he wasn’t accusing me. He just stared back at me, confirming my concern.

“Look, you can ask the boys down there if you want, but all I did was pick it up and take it to the nearest shop,” I told him, upset that he would think as much.

He muttered something under his breath, begrudgingly thanked me and drove off.

Normally I would be happy with a thanks for doing something nice, but this time the thanks was secondary to the lack of trust this guy had. Did I seriously look like someone who would steal money from a stray wallet? Why would I bother when there’d been so many people around who would have seen me doing it? And if I had decided I wanted the money, wouldn’t it have been easier to just take the whole package and leave?

I don’t know where his money went, but I was offended by the way he approached me. The car slowing down as I walked, then stopping a bit ahead of me was intimidating enough, but then his manner reeked of distrust too. The thanks wasn’t what it sounded like, it was a way of letting me know I was off the hook, that he didn’t think I’d taken the money after all, but still wasn’t happy with my actions.

If I did it over, I would still take the wallet into the shop. He could have lost his credit card, license and everything else if I hadn’t taken it somewhere more secure. But that didn’t seem to matter to this guy, it was the money he was concerned about and he was willing to accuse anyone of taking it. What really matters in life? A nice gesture, or money? Genuine concern for a stranger, or money? Helping a stranger, or money? Apparently this guy favoured the latter of all three. There wasn’t anything else I could have done, I have my own responsibilities to deal with and I wasn’t going to play guard dog for someone who might have taken hours to realise they’d lost their precious money.

In this instance, the thanks was like a slap in the face, telling me trust and good intentions can be overruled by the valued placed on money.