It was late afternoon, and dozens of people had already visited our exhibition booth. The next guy was looking for a German-speaker. He found me. A tall man in a blue jumpsuit, he immediately proceeded to pour out what was inside of him in a mild East German accent.
The man turned out to be a retired owner of a small construction company who had taken a significant chunk of his retirement funds and put it into our company’s cryptocurrency. He was currently down on his investment and needed to vent. I was surprised at how eloquently he did it.
The man was clearly intelligent. He illustrated our company’s and industry’s problems with so many colorful allegories, it was hard to keep track. If he had written down his thoughts and structured them, it would have made for a great article. Instead, he kept talking at me for a good 10-20 minutes, in which I said all but six sentences, if those.
Suddenly, one of my team members interrupts us. “Sorry to barge in, but Nik, our boss is looking for you on the first floor balcony.” Relieved, I left the exhibition hall, ready to thank my boss for whatever problem she might throw at me next. It couldn’t possibly have been harder than sitting under an endless information shower run by a stranger at an event where your senses are already constantly overloaded.
When I got to the balcony, all I saw was security, a few stragglers, and people down in the main stage area converting the space into a dinner hall. No sign of my boss. A friendly man advised me the room was currently closed, and I left in a bit of a daze. On the way out, the colleague who had alerted me found me. Lo and behold, she deserved my thanks—the whole “you’re needed elsewhere” was a rescue ruse to get me away from an unfruitful conversation, and she played it by the book.
“Oh my god, thank you!” I said. I had been ready to let the man finish, of course, but it had also been clear our chat was headed nowhere. Still, I hope he felt a bit lighter after getting some of his concerns off his chest.
There’s a good book by Sam Harris called Lying. It shows reasonable ways and an ethical argument towards always telling the truth. It’s a great read to aspire to live by—but every now and then, if a friend is worth saving, the little lie that could can go a long way.
