Everyone knows that person who loves to talk. They have the same things in common with which you may use to identify them. Most people are walking away from them at a rapid pace with a purposeful gait, they have spittle in the corner of their mouths from all the talking, and they probably have a little halitosis. Well, I’m not scientifically certain about that last one but it seems to be a halfway decent approximation.
So. There’s this guy. He yaps all the time. He won’t shut up. He won’t let you out of his oral grip and you’re forced to try to extract yourself from him by using your wiles. But the problem is that I don’t like to be mean. I like to do things delicately and have a peaceful end to all encounters. It’s the middle child in me. I may have mentioned this before.
One time, several years ago, Yappy McWon’tShutUp trapped me. We were both dropping off our children at VBS and he stopped to talk shop with me. When my children were little and went to VBS it gave me a solid 2-hour window to get shopping done or mop the kitchen or do laundry. It was a blissful 2 hours that I had to myself in the summertime when I’m off work and they’re off school. Back then when I taught middle school I was anxious to snatch that free time because 9 months of the year belonged to students during the day and the other 3 months were concentrated time with my own kids. This conversation took an ugly turn and we discussed a dozen topics before I knew it. By the time I realized that I was caught in Yappy’s snare almost the entire time had passed and we had 15 minutes left before we had to be back at the church to pick up the children. We were standing in the church parking lot this whole time.
Back then I was young and stupid and polite and naive.
I’m past 35 now. I don’t have to put up with that crap.
So, recently, Yappy McWon’tShutUp was the target of a question that several people needed answered. I didn’t know anyone in the group had dealt with him until I heard them discuss who was going to go ask him a question.
Oh, no. I don’t want to go talk to him. Every time he talks I’m more confused than before!
I’m not doing it. He can take the most mundane thing and make it so convoluted that you don’t know your own name by the end of the conversation!
I don’t even understand him. It’s like he speaks his own, weird language.
It was a weak moment for me. After all, it had been years since I dealt with him and I had learned a few things in that time. First of all, you make the question simple. Easy to answer. Don’t give Yappy any opening to burst forth the dam. Second, start walking away from Yappy once you think the question is answered so that you are already in the process of leaving. Third, well, there is no third. There is just this: MAKE IT SNAPPY, YAPPY!
“I’ll go do it.” I heard myself say. “No one else wants to and I think I can do this now.”
It was at that point that I recounted the VBS story for them and some of them frowned and some laughed and others practically looked at me like I was a saint for having dealt with him in the past. There was a halo growing from my head because I decided to take one for the team. I set myself on a course to go speak with him and work my magic.
Me: I need a question answered. Can you tell me (super simple request inserted here)?
Yappy proceeded to expound on the need for policies and protocols and why there are seventeen different answers available for the one question I asked.
Me, to myself: Jesus, Mary and Joseph this is going to take the next twenty minutes!
Me, to Yappy: Uh huh. Yep. I get that. Sure. I know. Yes, of course. Yes. That makes sense. Ok. Ok. O.K.
As I’m beginning my exit strategy of backing away and getting to the door frame I start to end the conversation. I am pointed, direct, and there is no second guessing that I am about to leave. I’M GOING, YAPPY. YOU HEAR ME? I’M PHYSICALLY WALKING BACKWARD AND SEARCHING BLINDLY FOR THE DOOR WITH MY HANDS BEHIND MY BACK.
And that’s when he threw me for a loop. Yappy pulls out the Whopper. The Big Dog. The Ultimate Move to suck me back in and shock the hell out of me.
Yappy: So, that’s the first part.
Me, to myself: The first part? WHAT? Motherf…
Yappy: Yeah, so here’s the second part.
Yappy: 1
Kelly: 0
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Funny to me, too!
I think I was possesed by yappy today. I hope you get nominated for sainthood.
This was HILARIOUS. I used to work in an office where half of my department was made up of Yappies. I do not, as it turns out, miss them.
Also, hello, there are no baby ninjas in this post!
Captured by The Verbal Lasso. Years ago I had a friend at work who did that, but we’re good enough friends that I would tease her when it happened.
You’re very brave!
I used to work with a “Yappy” we called “Snagglepuss.” He always had the spittle thing going on. You had to stand a safe distance away from him when ever he talked to avoid the spray.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… thats all…
As the mother of 2 boys with Asberger’s, I wonder whether McYappy might be somewhere on the austism spectrum? Sure sounds like it’s possible.
not only do i know a person like this, i LIVE WITH a girl like this. well actually, there are 5 of us girls in this way-too-small-for-5-girls house… the good news is: she is moving out in a matter of weeks. i’m counting down the days.
One day at a meeting, one of my so-called “friends” told this man who “had an interesting story” that I was a newspaper reporter. The guy started to talk. And talk. And talk. His story was about how he had been wronged and was suing but everyone was against him and he had figured out all these arcane legal loopholes about the judge not being legitimate because the 12th amendment had never been ratified by Kentucky or something…10 minutes went by this way.
I said, “I really need to wrap this up and get out of here.”
Five minutes later I started giving him the “wrap it up” hand signal (See: Ari Gold, 5:33 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVhIFhOT6xc) but he kept yapping.
Five minutes later I said “I can see your lips moving, but I can’t hear what are saying anymore” and walked off. I mean, COME ON. Have some courtesy.
I had a busy attorney boss once who would stop me mid sentence and tell me to give him the short version of whatever I was saying. And I practice verbal economy! This guy needs people to do that to him. You have to be willing to control the conversation. This guy sounds desperate to control every damn conversation, it’s kind of sad. But be willing to stop him and press for the short version that you want. He is being disrespectful, even if polite, in taking up your time. There’s no reason you can’t be assertive and respectful and shut the guy down.
There is one of those in every school. You should earn some kind of merit badge for taking on that initiative!
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