Dialogue: In all sincerity, you're being two-faced

From time to time, most of us probably wonder if our people skills need improving.

A difficult interview, an unsatisfactory encounter or awkward social situation might lead us to grab a self-help book which promises to hold the answers to all our communication problems.

Unfortunately, once you've read the book, rather than your social skills improving often the only thing that does improve is your ability to spot other people who have read the same book. And, ironically, that can then result in a marked decline in your own social skills.

If you meet someone at a function who uses your name at the end of every sentence, you know that one of two statements holds true about him.

It could be that he has a bad memory for names and has read that if he repeats a name enough times during a conversation, he might have a chance of recalling it. In such instances, it is difficult not to wish that he did his training in private rather than use you as a guinea-pig in his self-improvement experiment.

If you have read the same book, you will know that he's probably also trying to discover some characteristic of yours that rhymes with your name to further aid his ailing memory. Depending on what your name is, that can be a disconcerting realisation.

Alternatively, he has read that people love nothing better than hearing their own name uttered repeatedly by a complete stranger. This is particularly patronising and assumes we are all egocentric and trivial beings. The implication is that we are so shallow and gullible that we will immediately warm to any clumsy shyster who applies this rule.

In reality, it's likely to engender the opposite reaction: "Don't try to manipulate me with your cheap tactics, buddy" or "I'm on to you, mate" would be more appropriate responses.

The glib advice to make people feel important is just as bad. It implies that we're a bunch of insignificant, self-important megalomaniacs who crave a taste of power, however crudely bestowed it may be.

According to the rules, an adept communicator is supposed to get people to talk about themselves and to let the other person talk the most.

Can you imagine then what would happen if two people intent on social dexterity met?

They would argue about who should speak. "You talk." "No, you should." "No, no, no, it must be you, I insist." They would both end up outside with their sleeves rolled up and fists clenched. It's a sure recipe for disaster.

Handy hints such as "be sincere" and "be genuinely interested in the other person" ring very false and hollow. Is it really sincere if you plan to be sincere? If you set out to be genuinely interested, isn't that interest in fact artificial?

The other day, I uncharacteristically dropped in unannounced on a friend and suggested we go to lunch and then I also uncharacteristically chose the first dish on the menu without reading what else was on offer.

When my friend looked sideways at me, I said, by way of explanation: "I'm trying to be spontaneous today." We both burst into laughter as we realised that a plan to be spontaneous probably, by definition, didn't constitute spontaneity.

I imagine that the same goes for sincerity and interest. It makes you wonder if techniques designed to improve social skills lose their power once most people have become familiar with them. When you are able to detect that a person is valiantly putting Social Technique No 36C into practice on you, its potency is surely lost.

And wouldn't we prefer to have genuine human connections where everyone is being themselves - imperfections and all - rather than striving to be a manufactured replica of an ideal person?

The concept that people are being nice to others only to further their own selfish ends is anathema, anyway. It might be the age of disposable goods and instant gratification but does this plastic artificiality have to extend to our social interactions?

If instant friends can be made with the strategic use of some facile ploys, surely that undermines the whole nature of true friendship and admiration - which are hard-won over time, and run far deeper than the self-help gurus would like us to believe.

But enough of what I think. What do you think? I'm really interested to know, reader. I am, reader. Honestly, reader, it's true.

* Shelley Bridgeman is an Auckland writer.