I have a friend in Vancouver—well, friend-of-a-friend, anyway—who prides herself on her straight-talk. “Penelope” (let’s call her) has no problem telling you if she doesn’t like the pattern on your tie or the colour of your top. She will let you know if your choice in music is uninspired, if the brisket you prepared for dinner is too tough, or if your latest fling is a boring conversationalist. She especially enjoys critiquing the things that people have created and will happily point out dropped stitches in a sweater someone has knitted or opine that someone else’s watercolour painting of Salt Spring Island is “a bit naff”.
It is a mystery to Penelope why some folks find her manner to be rude and off-putting. She is, after all, “just telling it like it is”. And besides, her criticisms “come from a good place,” with the intention of helping others to improve.
I think Penelope is labouring under the illusion that people are eager to receive uninvited judgements and will respond with gratitude for the input. The reality is nobody wants to hear thoughts of this kind unless they are positive. This holds true even if somebody asks for your opinion of their latest poem, cheesecake recipe, husband, hairstyle, or parachute pants. Any hurt feelings and resentment your negative judgement engenders are magnified a hundredfold when it comes to receiving unsolicited advice. And this is doubly true for cooks, artists, writers, and performers.
According to my latest research (refreshingly unhampered by logic or information) less than one tenth of one percent of people who invite your thoughts are actually wanting you to be honest. When we ask whether you “like” something, we are really fishing for compliments and want to hear something nice.
Obviously, wide-eyed, gobsmacked gushing about the level of skill it must have taken to make that clay bust of Deadmau5 or prepare that onion dip are the gold standard of feedback. And if this fawning approval is genuine, so much the better. But if that level of prevarication is beyond your capacity for theatrical performance at that moment, a simple white lie will more than suffice. Insincere compliments are always relatively well-received, and vastly preferable to negative reviews, no matter how insightful or well-intentioned they might be.
Granted, there are times when receiving unvarnished feedback can be vital for an individual’s development. When Uncle Stepho shows you the first draft of the speech he’s writing for your cousin’s wedding, you might want to remind him that “we’re not allowed to call them that anymore”. If an air traffic controller is prone to “drifting off” on the job, say, or a surgical resident tends to confuse the cranial cavity with the abdominal cavity, it is best for someone in a position of trusted authority to point these things out. But usually there’s not much riding on whether someone’s gravy is flavourful enough, or if the skirt-over-pants look is flattering on them. And has anybody ever truly “grown” or improved based on another’s supposedly candid criticisms? At best, they are a minor trauma to be overcome. Or potentially motivation for some future revenge.
No, as far as I’m concerned, keep your insulting judgements to yourself. Tell me nothing at all, tell me lovely, lovely things, or tell me sweet little lies.