Why Talking to Think?

A few years ago my husband Rob and I attended a workshop on the Myers-Briggs Indicator, a tool that helps people understand their personality type. After you answer a series of questions, the tool rates your personality tendencies along four scales with opposite inclinations, like Introvert-Extrovert. Most of us came out somewhere in the middle, with traits of both extremes. I remember that one of Rob’s coworkers, Devon, had the highest score possible as a Thinker, or a pure analytical type, versus a Feeler, or an empathizer. “Wow, I’ve never seen someone so far off the charts!” exclaimed the facilitator. All of the women, in one synchronized motion, turned and looked sympathetically at Devon’s wife, Andrea.

It was at this workshop that I first heard the distinction between those of us who think to talk, and those who talk to think. Here’s the basic difference: think to talkers wait to speak until they know what they’re going to say, figuring it out in their heads beforehand. But talk to thinkers, like me, figure out what we want to express as we’re verbalizing. To us, talking is a way to work through the haphazard collection of possibilities rolling around in our heads.

We talk to thinkers make connections between ideas as we go along. A discussion of how unfinished projects are driving you crazy eventually segues into the way your uncle would frequently begin a story with “Yep, that’s the way it was, all right,” and along the way thoughts on creativity, the raw food movement and some funny headline you saw on people.com may emerge. You’re never quite sure how you got from there to here, but you can always trace the path back, if you want to.

Most of my closest woman friends are talk to think, which makes things easy because we identify with each others’ methods and don’t mind being interrupted. We start out with “Now I’m not sure how I want to say this,” or “Help me figure this out,” and everyone knows what to expect.

My daughter is also talk to think, but Rob and both of our sons are think to talk, which is good for me to keep in mind so my style doesn’t overwhelm them. When the boys were younger, I would approach them about dinner this way: “What about barbequed chicken pizza, only you just had that pizza for lunch, or would the chicken be better, maybe with rice, but that’s kind of boring, or I could do that soup you liked, or do you want Caesar? What do you think?” “Yeah, that’s fine, whatever,” they would respond, obviously startled.

Once you know about talk to thinkers and think to talkers, it’s impossible not to want to place everyone you know in one camp or the other. (In a similar fashion, my sister-in-law Jennifer claims that everyone in the universe can be classified as either a pin head or a bowl head, but that’s another story.) But whether I can immediately identify someone’s style or not, I know that, with no conscious effort, I’m attracting others like me.

Yesterday I was standing at the gas pump, waiting for the tank to fill, when another car pulled up next to me. Out of it stepped a woman in gray sweatpants and a hip length striped top. She was tall, probably in her sixties. She had very white skin, very black hair and very red lips. We glanced at each other, made eye contact, and I smiled.

“Why, aren’t you pleasant,” she said, then informed me that she was feeling harried. “I just found out I’m having knee surgery,” she explained, gripping the offending knee. “I’ve already had hip surgery and I think I might have lost my credit card, but I may have left it home in my nurse’s uniform, but I went ahead and called the company and told them that if there are any charges before four o’clock they should deny them. They already cancelled the card and they’re sending me a new one, and I really think it’s at home but I didn’t have a chance to check, because I had this appointment. My hip’s been really hurting again, but it’s mostly because I need the surgery. And I only have ten dollars on me but that’s enough for gas.” She paused. “Thanks, it feels better to talk about all this.”

I knew just how she felt.