So Many Words, But Nothing To Say

Our complex has a really nice swimming pool. Recently, I was hanging out by the pool on a sunny Saturday afternoon. There were about 50 people there. The pool is very large, with lots of chairs, tables, and umbrellas all around it. So, it didn’t seem crowded at all. There was the typical background noise you’d expect at a public pool: kids splashing and giggling, folks chatting in little groups, and some lively music coming from someone’s cell phone.

Then, after a while, I noticed one young man, who was standing in the shallow end of the pool with a few of his friends. He was talking very quickly and very loudly and completely non-stop. Frankly, it was amazing. This guy had a terrific voice, kind of like a radio announcer. He was articulate, with excellent enunciation skills.

Somehow, my ears zeroed in on his frequency. His relentless monologue was cutting through the din of the crowd and flowing directly into my brain. No matter how hard I tried to tune him out, every single syllable he proclaimed went directly into the core of my consciousness.

As someone who does a little public speaking now and then, I was extremely impressed with, and jealous of, his vocalization talent. What a set of pipes!

But here’s the thing: this young man’s non-stop soliloquy, however well-delivered, was completely inane. He spoke thousands of words over the course of 20 minutes, and every single one of those words was meaningless. He talked about his car (a Honda Accord); he talked about his dog (Sparky); he talked about his job (dispatcher for a freight company); he talked about his favorite team (the New York Yankees); he talked about his girlfriend (Darlene, who apparently was not present, based on the comments he made about her); and he talked about his favorite eatery (New England Pizza in Vernon). These particular topics certainly have aspects about them that can be interesting. And yet Mr. Chatterbox did not offer a single interesting take. Every single thing he said about every single topic was fatuous, insipid, pointless, vacuous, and vapid. (Yes, I had to turn to the Thesaurus to paint a complete picture of this gentleman’s performance.)

It was stunning to listen to this young man speak so many words and say absolutely nothing. He should go into politics. In addition to being stunning, it was very maddening. I was starting to have an anxiety attack. If the CIA needs a new and effective interrogation technique, they should hire this man. (On second thought, if the government unleashes this fellow on a terrorism suspect, it surely will be labeled torture and a gross violation of international law.)

I was angry at myself for not bringing my noise-canceling earbuds with me. On the other hand, I’m not sure the latest technology from Apple’s laboratories can keep up with this guy.

What that young man needs is a writer on staff. I was tempted to go over to him and offer my services. “Sir,” I planned to say, “you have a real gift for speaking. But what you need are some interesting words to speak. I’ve been known to string together a few sentences and tell engaging stories once in a while. How about we work together? I’ll write the copy, and you recite it.” 

But I decided not to approach him. I noticed that even his friends could not get a word in edgewise, so what chance did I have, as a total stranger, to break his filibuster?

The next time I go to the pool, I’ll bring my earbuds. And if they’re unable to block out Galloping Gabby, I’ll contact Apple Corp. This could be their biggest technological challenge ever.