Speaking to strangers overseas
It took me nearly four years of marriage to finally approach someone at a bar.
Not to ask them out, of course—just to ask about their sleep.
Gotcha!
Last month, I had one of the best educational experiences of my life. I flew overseas with around 50 of my friends and classmates to Kellogg’s Phase Zero class. It was my final elective in a string of great courses.
Our task?
Join a group of other executives, get a customer segment and pain point, speak to Londoners we’ve never met before out in “the field,” and pitch to experts at the week’s end. We started on Monday. The pitch had to be ready by Friday.
I’m an equally big fan of Shark Tank and Nathan for You. I felt like I was preparing my whole life for this.
The problem?
I don’t normally approach strangers. Don’t get me wrong—I did some sales back in high school for Alzheimer’s research. I’ve worked in booths in farmers’ markets. But that involves people coming up to me more than the other way around.
And while I’m very comfortable giving speeches to folks who I know want to hear what I have to say, I’m conscious about imposing on other people. Who knows? They could be busy. They could have a million things going on inside their head. They could find me threatening. There were a lot of reasons to balk at this field research.
Some people don’t have this issue. But for any number of reasons—my childhood speech impediment, my great marriage to my high school sweetheart meaning I never had to develop the confidence to ask people for their numbers, or my generalized anxiety—I didn’t feel like I’d naturally excel.
Here’s how I gamed it out.
First, I realized that my anxiety was not outwardly visible. My peers commented that I would be perfectly suited to the task based on my public speaking experience. Sure, I said. If they believe in me, I can believe in me.
Second, I focused on interviewees who seemed willing to speak. I made eye contact and waved from a fair distance away as I approached to see if I would get a smile in return. I never tried to stop someone who was in the middle of moving, so I went to pubs, parks, and businesses with slow foot traffic and bored-looking employees.
Third, I tried to be non-threatening. I spoke gently and calmly and shared my nametag as a sign of no ill-will. I opened nearly every ask with a rehearsed, straightforward ask - “Hi! I’m Iain. I’m a student. Our professor wants us to survey strangers about sleep. Do you have two minutes?”
I also only got pictures of folks’ hands, since people did not want their faces on a stranger’s phone.
Like this!
Of the 50+ Londoners I spoke to, over 40 were willing to speak for over 5 minutes to a total stranger with a different accent. (Yes, I considered faking a British accent, but that made the whole situation seem TOO Nathan for You).
From the older gentleman in the pub who shared his fears about international relations and love of black market drugs, to the lady in the jewelry store who explained she hadn’t enjoyed good sleep since her father passed away 23 years ago, to the Iraqi man who was trying stay up late to earn British citizenship through the Life in the UK Test, I learned that not only does everyone have a story to share—a whole lot of folks are delighted to express it to a total stranger.
Do I want to keep approaching people in bars? Probably not. I don’t really drink. And you can easily take a guy asking you about your sleeping preferences the wrong way if you’ve had one too many.
But the experiential learning I experienced this week was life-changing. I feel more confident and connected than ever before.
I would recommend a similar project to anybody. The more anxious you feel, the more reason to start.
If you’re someone who dreads public speaking or even casual conversation, you’re not alone.
