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Many years ago, I lived in a large apartment building and had an upstairs neighbor, “Dave,” who was a compulsive talker. With Dave, there was no such thing as a conversation “in passing,” because every conversation quickly turned into a hostage situation.
There was a time when giving presentations meant copying a certain style of delivery. The “proper” presenter spoke with a resonant voice for radio, didn’t move much, and used stiffly controlled gestures. He or she was expected to formally demonstrate perfect poise and show no rough edges. The “best” presenters came across like onscreen narrators of old-school educational films—flawless execution, and bland as potatoes.
Anyone who has spent a few nights in a hospital knows how stressful the experience can be. In addition to physical pain or discomfort, nighttime interruptions by hospital staff and the steady beeping of bedside monitors can make sleeping difficult. Worries about one’s...
Hey, America—why this massive, meaningless, middling overuse of “kind of” and “sort of” (aka kinda sorta) in public and private discourse? Like uptalk, that ubiquitous rising inflection that makes statements sound like questions, kinda sorta is the death blow to...
Uptalk, also called upspeak, is when a statement is made with an upward-drifting inflection that makes it sound like a question. For example, a declaration of fact such as “I have a new car” sounds like “I have a new car?” -- in contrast to a falling pitch that...
Unless you’ve been hospitalized, you may be unaware of certain visitor behaviors that can make things truly unpleasant for the patient.
Oh, the possibilities are horrible. And endless. During your pitch presentation, you realize that your prospective client’s name is misspelled on every slide. You tell the boss you’re coming to her retirement party — and then remember it was supposed to be a surprise. You send an email claiming “Sam is a psychopath” to a coworker — who forwards it to Sam.
Many years ago I was strolling the French Quarter in New Orleans when I noticed the slow approach of a small, mule-driven flower cart. The man seated on the cart kept it close to the sidewalk, making it easier for passersby to stop and select from his buckets abundant with gladiolas, daffodils, and irises. Yet, as dazzling as the flowers were, my attention drifted to the mule.