How do I tell a truth that’s going to hurt?
You can say anything, just not gratuitously
Someone offended defends himself. Someone laughing takes a look at himself.
“But I can’t tell him that. It’d hurt his feelings, poor thing.”
Chapter 22 — Itsy-Bitsy the Maggot and the Teeny Button
When it happens to you
You’ve got the comeback. It’s perfect, it’s true, and it’s going to really hurt. So you keep it on the tip of your tongue, you smile politely, and you chew on it for 3 days.
Why your two usual ways out are bad
If you keep quiet, it sits in your stomach and comes back up three weeks later about something unrelated — and then you look like the mad one. If you fire it off with no humour, you score a point, you offend, and nothing changes: someone offended doesn’t look at himself, he defends himself.
Rule
A truth that serves no purpose doesn’t need saying. One that does can nearly always be said with a laugh.
How to sort it out before you speak, in 4 steps
- First question: does it change anything for me? Or do I just want to score a point?
- Second question: can I say it in a way we can both laugh about?
- Yes to both → say it. It’s the right moment and the right form. No to the first → it serves no purpose: it goes in the notebook, not in the conversation.
- Yes to the first, no to the second → it’s too serious to be funny. So say it short and simple, with no frills and no dig. Humour isn’t compulsory; being gratuitous is always to be avoided.
⚠ What isn’t humour
The dig dressed up as a joke. The “I was only joking” that follows a sentence that was no joke. The test is simple: can the other person laugh with you? If the laugh only works against him, it isn’t humour, it’s a rock with a bow on it.
What it changes for you
You no longer have to choose between keeping quiet and hurting. Humour does two things no other form does at the same time: it unmasks the thing and it keeps the bond. It isn’t a watered-down version of the truth, it’s the same truth in the only form that stands a chance of being heard.
How to practise
Once a day, on something tiny: the neighbour, the queue, the meeting. You practise on the small things so you’re ready for the big ones.
Remember
The question is never what to say, it’s what for — and in what tone.
You may be wondering
And what if I’m not funny?
Then say it short and simple, with no dig. The second condition isn’t compulsory; the first one is.
He’ll take it badly anyway.
Maybe. What you control is the form and the intention. The rest is up to him, and it’s no reason to keep quiet.
Where do I put the stuff that serves no purpose?
In the funny diary, guide 09. That’s what it’s for: it gets it out, it makes you laugh, and it breaks nothing.