Michelle: Alright Mark, I'm going to say a book title, and I want your gut reaction. How to Talk to Anyone: 92 Little Tricks for Big Success in Relationships. Mark: Sounds like a manual for someone who learned their social skills from watching aliens in a human suit. 'Trick #47: To show friendliness, bare your teeth in a wide, sustained grimace.' Michelle: Okay, not far off! Some of the tricks are definitely… specific. But the author, Leil Lowndes, is actually a world-renowned communications expert. Mark: Really? Not an alien? Michelle: Not an alien. She's coached everyone from Fortune 500 executives to government officials, and this book is basically her entire playbook distilled into these 92 techniques. It’s become a staple in the self-help world, but it's also got this polarizing reputation. Some people swear by it, calling it a social lifesaver. Others find the 'tricks' a bit… calculating. Mark: Calculating, I like that. It suggests there’s a system. A system for something that feels like it should be pure, un-plannable chaos. I'm intrigued. Where do we even start with 92 tricks? Michelle: We start before you even say a word. Lowndes argues that the most important part of any conversation happens in the first ten seconds, completely in silence. She quotes a drama teacher who once told her, "The way you move is your autobiography in motion." Mark: Oh, that's terrifying. So my autobiography is mostly about slouching and looking vaguely confused? Great. Michelle: Exactly. People have already read three chapters of your life story based on your posture and your smile—or lack thereof—before you even get to "hello."

Mark: Okay, so if my body is writing a terrible autobiography, how do I edit it? What's trick number one for not looking like a human question mark? Michelle: It starts with your smile. And here’s the first counter-intuitive idea from the book. Lowndes says the most effective smile is not a quick, big, immediate one. She calls it "The Flooding Smile." Mark: A flooding smile? That sounds… messy. Like something a villain does in a Disney movie right before the monologue. Michelle: It sounds dramatic, but the psychology is fascinating. An instant, automatic smile can feel generic, like you give it to everyone. The Flooding Smile is about creating a delay. You look at the person for a second, absorb who they are, and then you let a big, warm, responsive smile flood your face. It makes the smile feel specific and genuine, as if it’s just for them. Mark: Hold on. I’m trying to picture this in real life. I feel like I'd just look like my brain is buffering. Is there a risk of looking insincere or just… creepy? Michelle: That's the risk if you overdo it! It’s not about a slow-motion, five-second wind-up. It's a brief pause. The key is that the smile feels responsive to the person, not a pre-programmed social reflex. Lowndes tells this incredible story about a friend of hers, Missy. Mark: Let me guess, Missy had a terrible, non-flooding smile. Michelle: She had a very bubbly, quick-to-giggle personality. When she inherited her father's corrugated box company, he told her that her quick smile might hurt her credibility in a tough industry. He advised her to slow it down. Years later, Lowndes has dinner with her and three potential clients. She notices Missy—who now goes by Melissa—is completely transformed. She's poised, insightful, and sincere. Mark: And she's doing the slow-motion smile? Michelle: Exactly. She lands all three clients at that dinner. Afterwards, she tells Lowndes her secret was training herself to pause before smiling. It gave her, as Lowndes puts it, a "richer, deeper, more sincere cachet." The clients felt her smile was earned, that it was a genuine reaction to them. Mark: Wow. So a one-second delay in smiling can be the difference between being "bubbly Missy" and "CEO Melissa who just closed three deals." That’s a powerful little detail. What else is in this silent language toolkit? Michelle: The next big one is eye contact. But again, with a specific technique. She calls it "Sticky Eyes." Mark: Sticky Eyes. These names are fantastic. It sounds like a condition you'd get from a cartoon accident involving honey. Michelle: It’s about pretending your eyes are glued to your conversation partner's with warm, sticky taffy. When you have to look away, you do it reluctantly, slowly, stretching that taffy until the connection finally breaks. Mark: So it’s a friendly version of a staring contest you’re determined to lose gracefully. Michelle: That's a perfect way to put it. It’s not about aggressive staring; it’s about conveying intense interest and respect. It makes the other person feel like their words are incredibly important. There was even a study done in Boston where researchers had people count their conversation partner's blinks to force more intense eye contact. Mark: Wait, they had them counting blinks? That's so clinical. Michelle: It is, but the results were wild. The people who were being "stared at" by the blink-counters reported significantly higher feelings of respect and fondness for them. Even artificially induced intense eye contact made people feel more connected. Mark: That is bizarre. So you're saying I can make people like me more just by being a little bit of a weirdo with my eyes and my smile timing? Michelle: According to Lowndes, yes. Because those non-verbal cues communicate one thing above all else: "I see you, and I find you fascinating." And that is an incredibly seductive message, long before you’ve even talked about the weather.

Mark: Okay, so you've nailed the silent movie part of the introduction. You've smiled a slightly delayed smile, you've made sticky eye contact... but now you have to actually speak. This is where it all falls apart for most of us. The dreaded small talk. Michelle: And Lowndes acknowledges that. She says the fear of small talk is almost universal, especially among intelligent people who feel pressure to say something brilliant. But she argues that small talk isn't about exchanging brilliant facts. It's about creating a comfortable melody. The goal is just to put people at ease. Mark: A melody, huh? My small talk is usually more like a dial-up modem sound. All screeching and awkward pauses. So what's the first trick to composing a better tune? Michelle: One of her most famous ones is a bit of a prop comedy trick. She calls it, "Always Wear a Whatzit." Mark: A Whatzit? Michelle: A "Whatzit." Wear or carry something unusual or unique. A strange pin, an interesting bag, a book with a provocative title. It’s an object that makes people ask, "What is... that?" It's a built-in conversation starter. Mark: I don't know. Doesn't that feel a bit desperate? Like you're wearing a sign that says, "Please talk to me, I'm interesting, I promise!" Michelle: You could see it that way. But Lowndes frames it as a generous act. You're making it easier for other people. You're giving them a safe, easy opening line. They don't have to comment on the weather; they can ask about your weird lapel pin. You're taking the social pressure off of them. Mark: Huh. I never thought of it that way. You're providing a social service. The 'Whatzit' isn't for you, it's for everyone else. Okay, I'm slightly less skeptical. What happens once the conversation is actually started? How do you keep it from dying a painful death? Michelle: This brings us to another great technique: "Never the Naked City." It's her rule for answering the most common, conversation-killing question of all: "So, where are you from?" Mark: Oh, I know this one well. Someone asks where I'm from, I say 'Ohio,' and the conversation just dies right there. A moment of silence for our fallen dialogue. Michelle: Exactly! A one-word answer is a conversational dead end. It forces the other person to do all the work. "Never the Naked City" means you never just give the name of the place. You always add a little fact, a story, or a hook. Mark: Give me an example. How do I make Ohio sound interesting? Michelle: Lowndes says you should have a few different "baits" ready, depending on who you're talking to. If you're talking to a foodie, you don't just say "Ohio." You say, "I'm from Ohio, which, believe it or not, has this incredible food scene popping up in Columbus." If you're talking to a history buff, you might say, "I'm from Ohio, home of eight U.S. presidents." You give them something to grab onto. Mark: So you're basically pre-packaging interesting conversational threads for them. That's actually really smart. It's less about being an amazing talker and more about being a helpful one. Michelle: It's all about making it easy for the other person. Another technique in this vein is called "Kill the Quick 'Me, Too!'" Mark: Okay, what does that mean? Michelle: It means when someone shares a passion or an interest, and you happen to share it, you should resist the urge to immediately jump in and say "Me too!" For example, if someone says, "I just got back from a trip to Italy, it was amazing," and you also love Italy, don't say "Oh my god, I love Italy too! I went to Florence and..." Mark: But why not? That's how you find common ground, right? Michelle: It is, but the timing is everything. If you jump in too quickly, you steal their spotlight. They were excited to tell you their story, and you just made it about your story. Lowndes says to let them savor their moment. Let them tell you all about their trip. Ask them questions. Then, after they've had their moment, you can say, "That sounds absolutely incredible. Your story makes me want to go back." You create the connection without hijacking the conversation. Mark: That is a very subtle but powerful distinction. You're letting them be the star of their own story. It's about focusing the communication on the 'you,' not the 'me.' Michelle: Precisely. In fact, one of the chapter titles is "Comm-YOU-nication." The core principle is to always shine the spotlight on the other person. When you do that, they don't just think you're a good conversationalist. They think they are. And they love you for it.

Michelle: When you pull back and look at all these techniques together—The Flooding Smile, Sticky Eyes, the Whatzit, Never the Naked City—a clear philosophy emerges. Mark: It feels like the philosophy is that social interaction is a game, and here are the cheat codes. Michelle: You could see it that way. But I think what Lowndes is really arguing is that social grace isn't an innate talent; it's a craft. It's a set of learnable skills. It’s about consciously designing interactions to make other people feel seen, heard, and valued—first with your body, then with your words. Mark: But that brings us back to the 'calculating' criticism. Where is the line between a 'craft' and 'manipulation'? Is the goal to be authentic, or just to be effective? If I'm consciously delaying my smile to get a better reaction, is that genuine? Michelle: That's the core tension of the book, and it's why it gets such polarizing reviews. Lowndes would likely say the techniques are just tools. You can use a hammer to build a house for someone, or you can use it to break their window. The tool isn't inherently good or bad. The intent behind its use is what matters. Mark: So if your goal is to genuinely connect with someone and make them feel comfortable, these 'tricks' are just a more skillful way of expressing that good intention. Michelle: Exactly. They become bridges to connection. If your only goal is to get something from them—a sale, a date, a job—then yes, it's just manipulation. The techniques amplify your underlying intent. They don't create it. Mark: That makes a lot of sense. The 'how' is in service of the 'why.' If your 'why' is good, the 'how' becomes a form of social generosity. You're making the hard work of human connection a little bit easier for everyone. Michelle: Perfectly put. The book is less a manual for faking it and more a guide to becoming a more considerate and effective communicator. It forces you to think about the impact of your smallest actions. Mark: So it really makes you ask yourself: when you communicate, what are you actually trying to build? Are you building a bridge or just setting a trap? Michelle: A question we could all probably stand to ask ourselves a little more often. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.