Stu: Nice to Meet You

I met Stu at a 37Signals-new-office-open-house thing last year. When I met him, I had a super tough time remembering his name. So he taught me this trick he learned in an improv class:

“When you meet someone, sandwich “nice to meet you” in between their name. So, I would say, “Mari, nice to meet you, Mari.” The act of saying someone’s name twice cements it in your mind. Try it sometime.”

So guess what? If we meet, I’ll be saying, “Blog reader, nice to meet you, blog reader.”

And I’ll even remember that your name is “blog reader,” thanks to Stu.

Julie: Three Months.

Julie is one of my heroines. She’s mom to four amazing grown children, is a power attorney, drives a stick shift Mini Cooper and bakes the world’s best pot roast. Nom.

I was over at her house one Sunday a few years ago for dinner, and we were all chatty and having a good time. In the middle of the conversation, she said, “Hey, Mari – let’s schedule another one of these dinners in three months. When’s good for you?”

I said, “I have no idea. Three months?”

Her reasoning was fourfold:
1 – If we say, “Let’s do dinner sometime soon,” that ‘soon’ turns into a month, turns into six months, turns into 10 years. BAD.
2 – If we say, “Let’s do dinner next month,” there will inevitably be some scheduling conflict and then we’ll say, “Let’s reschedule for another time – sometime soon,” which turns back into #1. BAD.
3 – If we say, “Let’s set a date three months out to do dinner,” there are fewer scheduling conflicts, we can both put it onto our calendars now, and then we have something to look forward to in three months. GOOD!
4 – A lot can change in three months, so conversation will be fresh and fun. GOOD!

Now, I use Julie’s “three months” scenario with those who lead super busy lives, but who I MUST see again.

Julie, just so you know, aside from your pot roast, this is the BEST tip I’ve ever gotten from you. (Get it? Oh, I kill myself.)

Mrs. Dunn: Save a party.

A few weeks ago, Sydney and I went to the most random dinner ever with the most random group of people ever. It had serious potential awkwardness written all over it.

But then I remembered a game my 4th grade teacher Mrs. Dunn made us play on the first day of school to get us all to start talking to each other:

1. Talk about yourself, your accomplishments, your life, your goals, your dreams, your fears – for two minutes.
2. No embellishing allowed – just straight facts.
3. Those listening shouldn’t be judgmental.
4. Stop after two minutes.
5. Allow the others in the group to do Q & A / follow up on any interesting points for two minutes.
6. Move onto the next person.

By the end of this game (and before our dinners even showed up), I had something in common with everyone. No joke.

Mrs. Dunn, thanks for coming to our rescue – 21 years later. If you’re reading this, could you please remind me what the name of this icebreaker is? Because right now, it’s just called the 2-minute-bragging-game. And I’m positive you had a better name for it . . . .