Quiet People Rule The World

   

They told me I was qualified for the job,but I was too quiet.

“You’re not vocal enough,” the hiring manager told me. “People will walk all over you.”

The company I worked at posted a new job opening. It was a level above my job position at the time. I was qualified for this job; at least I thought I was. I had interviewed with several folks over two weeks. At the end of the interview cycle, I met with the hiring manager.

“Look,” he said. “You have the requisite skills. Everyone likes you, but this role requires a bit of brashness, and you’re just too quiet. You need to work on that to get to the next level.”

Quiet. You don’t want that label in a culture that prizes the extrovertive, talkative and charismatic.

The quiet guy gets revenge

The hiring manager hadn’t suggested I seek treatment for my quietude, but I could read between the lines. I didn’t get that job just then, but I did get it a year later. The guy they had ultimately hired was a bit too brash with his speech. He said some things early on in his tenure that pissed off a lot of people. Nobody wanted to work with him, and so he had trouble getting things done.

He left for another job and they handed it to me.

Quietness is not a disease

If it were such a detriment to survival, we would not have made the evolutionary cut.

I’ve been this way my entire life. I spent much of my teenage years and early adulthood trying to “fix my problem,” taking courses and reading books on the art of conversation. It wasn’t until my early 40’s that I realized my problem wasn’t a problem, and I embraced my true self. I saw it as a strength, one I could harness if I used it properly.

In retrospect, a part of me always embraced my true self. I always rooted for the man or woman in the movie who played the role of the quiet number two. They weren’t talkative or charismatic. They quietly sat in the passenger seat and pulled the strings or advised the man in charge. When the shit hit the fan, they survived unscathed. I always identified with that guy — the one in the shadows who secretly ruled the world — rather than the larger than life protagonist.

Our talkative counterparts sometimes think of us as social misfits wondering if a magic pill exists to cure our lack of verbalization. They sometimes suggest we seek therapy while they reel off a list of symptoms.

“I ask you questions, and you don’t answer right away. You tell me you need to think about it first.”It’s called thinking before speaking. Try it.

“You’re not assertive enough.”
They confuse quietness with sheepishness. They’re two different things.

“Nobody ever knows what you think or believe.”
Discretion and subtlety can be an advantage.

Our culture may not celebrate quiet people, but we have advantages over the outgoing talkies. We think before we speak. We may speak fewer words, but they’re more thoughtful.

A former mentor of mine who appreciated my economy with words said it best.

“You can’t say anything stupid if you say nothing at all.”