Vollständiges Transkript von „How to Ask Questions That Make People Love You“. Klicke auf einen Zeitstempel, um das Video an dieser Stelle zu öffnen. Du brauchst ein anderes Video? Nutze den YouTube-Transkript-Generator.
0:00 Here's how to ask questions that make people actually like you. And the hard part isn't knowing what to ask. You already know. You just don't ask it. >> [sighs] >> Think about the last conversation you had that went nowhere. Not a bad one, just flat. You talked about work, you talked about the weather, maybe a show you both watch. Then you walked away thinking, "I wish that had gone somewhere real." Here's what's strange. Somewhere in the middle of it, you had a better question sitting in your head. One that would have made things interesting. You even felt it. That small tug right before the words would have come out. Then the moment passed, and you went back to the weather. You never asked it. Maybe shyness played a part, but it wasn't because you didn't know what to say. Your brain made a
0:46 guess about the person in front of you, and that guess told you to keep quiet. Most people make the same guess over and over. So, what did that person actually think while you sat there holding that question back? When you see what the researchers found, you'll look at that flat conversation completely differently. It started with an experiment. A team of psychologists wanted to know what really happens when people go deeper than small talk. So, they ran 12 experiments with more than 1,800 people, mostly strangers paired up to talk. Some pairs got shallow questions, like, "What's the best TV show you've seen in the last month?" Other pairs got deep ones, like, "Tell me about a time you cried in front of another person." Before anyone started talking, everyone predicted how it would go. The people about to get the deep
1:33 questions expected a lot more awkwardness from the people about to get the shallow ones. Then they talked, and it wasn't that bad. Deep conversations felt less awkward than people expected, more enjoyable than they expected, and they left people feeling closer than predicted. In one experiment, the deep conversations did feel a little more awkward than the shallow ones, but the gap people predicted was much bigger than the gap they actually felt. Another experiment let people try both. Everyone talked to one stranger about shallow stuff and to a different stranger about deep stuff. Before, they expected to prefer the shallow one. Afterward, they preferred the deep one, which means the gap between a flat conversation and a good one can be a single sentence. Ask someone what they do for work and you'll
2:18 often get a short answer, a job title. Sometimes that opens up, but it's easy for the conversation to stop right there. Ask what they were doing the last time they completely lost track of time and you're asking for a moment. A moment comes with a place, other people, and a feeling, so it's easier to turn into a story. So, why do so few of us start those conversations? Because of what we picture. When we imagine asking something real, we see the reaction. A blank stare, a polite smile, a few seconds of silence while the other person wonders why we're being weird. We figure they don't want to go there. You've done this. You looked at someone and decided, "No way. They wouldn't want that." But the strangers were more
3:04 interested than people guessed. We sold them short. And with friends, family, and partners, the guesses were closer to right, though still a little low. The problem is everyone else, the new coworker, the person you just met, the neighbor you've waved at for 2 years. So, you're not bad at asking questions. You're bad at guessing how people will answer. Think about how strange that is. If a friend told you they never ask strangers anything real because the stranger would hate it, you'd tell them they were being ridiculous. But that's exactly the bet you place every single day. But that's only the first mistake. The second one comes after the conversation is over. You know the replay. Did that sound weird? Did I talk too
3:50 much? Did they even like me? Psychologists wanted to know how accurate that replay really is. So, they ran five studies. People talked and then each person was asked how much they liked their partner and how much they thought their partner liked them. Then, the researchers compared those guesses with what the partners actually said. On average, people were liked more than they guessed. Researchers call it the liking gap. It showed up in conversations that ran anywhere from 2 minutes to 45. They even followed college dorm mates through a school year, and the gap lasted for months. In the first study, the shyer someone was, the bigger the gap. >> [laughter] >> If you've ever replayed a conversation in the shower, hit the like button. That voice in your head that says, "That was awkward. They didn't like me." is
4:37 working from bad information. In one study, trained observers watched videos of these conversations and could tell how much the two people liked each other. The signals were there. Researchers think the people in the conversation were too caught up in their own self-criticism to catch them. That doesn't mean it's true of every conversation, but that voice tends to run low. A different group of researchers at Harvard studied question asking in text chats and in real speed dating. In the chats, people who asked more questions were better liked. And in the speed dating, the ones who asked more follow-up questions were more likely to get a second date. But most people don't expect questions to make them more likable. So the instincts that keep you quiet are often pointing the wrong way.
5:23 Which is exactly why knowing it isn't enough. You can understand all of this and still feel a jolt in your chest right before you ask something real. So, how do you ask anyway? First, make the question smaller, not shallower. Most people think a deeper conversation needs a bigger question. "What are you afraid of? Are you happy with your life?" Those are hard to answer, even for a close friend. They feel like an exam. Shrink it down to one moment instead. A big question asks someone to explain their whole life. A small one asks about last Tuesday. "What's something you've been a little nervous about lately? What's been the best part of your month?" Those are easy to answer. and like the lost track of time question, each one points at a real
6:09 moment. You get the depth without the weight. Picture the break room, a co-worker you barely know. You ask, "Do you like working here?" You get, "Yeah, it's fine." Or you ask, "What's been the best part of your week?" And suddenly you're hearing about her daughter's first soccer goal. Same room, same coffee, totally different conversation, and you made it happen. Second, put a little of yourself in it. The researchers behind the first study pointed out that people tend to reciprocate. Share something real, and you're likely to get something real back. The Harvard team also suggested there's a balance between asking and answering, and that too many questions or rude ones could backfire. A string of questions with nothing from you starts to feel like an interview. So, give one sentence
6:56 first. I've been stressing about a career decision lately. What's the last big decision you had to make? Now, you're not collecting information, you're just two people talking. Third, give them a way out. Tack a small exit onto the end. Only if you feel like getting into it, or no pressure if that's too much. It might sound like it weakens the question, but it isn't a trick to get a yes. It takes the pressure off and lets them decide how far to go. Try it. What was the hardest part of moving here? Only if you feel like getting into it. That's not a demand for a story, it's a door left open. Some people will walk right through it, others won't, and that's their call. >> [sighs] >> Now, the moment you've been dreading. You ask something real, and the other
7:42 person goes quiet. Your hands get a little sweaty. 3 seconds feels like 3 hours. Your brain screams that you ruined everything. Don't rush to rescue them, don't laugh it off, don't throw out a new question to fill the gap. Count to three in your head. Sometimes that silence is someone thinking, because people don't get asked real questions all that often. Sometimes it's uncertainty or a little discomfort. Either way, a few seconds of room beats jumping in. And what comes after the pause can be the best part of the conversation. Think about the last time someone asked you something you had to think about. You paused, too, didn't you? And you probably remember that person better than the ones who asked how your weekend was.
8:28 But read the whole picture while you wait. A glance away might just mean they're thinking. If their answer stays short or they change the subject, they're telling you they don't want to go there. Say, "Fair enough." and move on. A short answer isn't a rejection. It's just information, and nothing was lost. Remember those 12 experiments? In the final ones, the researchers tried something simple. They told people that others are usually more interested in our deeper thoughts than we expect. Afterward, those people picked deeper questions to discuss with a stranger than people who hadn't been told. So, test it yourself. This week, ask one question that's a little deeper than normal. Before you ask it, decide what you think will happen. Maybe you're sure
9:14 they'll look at you like you grew a second head. Hold onto that guess. Then, ask and compare. After a few rounds, you may start to notice that other people want these conversations too. That jolt in your chest is a guess. So, treat it like one. Because when you do this, you're not performing. You're giving someone the rare feeling of being truly listened to. And people tend to carry that feeling out of the room and connect it to your name. Now, go back to that flat conversation, the better question you didn't ask. There's a good chance the other person was hoping you would.
