The real challenge quickly became clear: Although Brian had agreed to be interviewed, he was actively disinterested. We had recruited Brian specifically, but here we were with the entire family. We pressed ahead, explaining our study, and starting in with our planned questions. Since Brian was the person with whom we had the arrangement, we focused our attention on him. He responded with one-word answers (which sounded more like grunts) and the occasional glance at his brother, causing them both to giggle.
My colleague and I avoided looking at each other (it may not have been physically possible, given the tight quarters) for fear of displaying our despair. Sure, we had arranged this interview, but the cues we were receiving were making it clear the arrangement wasn’t worth much. At this point, we had already awoken quite early to conduct this interview, so there was no point in giving up. If they changed their mind explicitly, they’d let us know, and we’d leave. Meanwhile, what else was there to do but press on? I asked questions with very little response. I tried the brother, at which point Brian bolted out of the room for a few minutes, without a word. The brother was only slightly more amenable than Brian, mostly interested in making critical comments about his parents (to Brian’s great grunting enjoyment), rather than providing any actual information.
Indeed, it appeared that Brian had not informed his parents that we were coming. Although I directed some of the questioning toward his mom, she reacted with pretty serious hostility, informing us (in the context of an answer to a question) that they did not welcome strangers into their house, and (while she was preparing food) highlighted the intimate nature of food preparation as a symbol, which was even less open to strangers. The message was very clear.
But again, what could we do? Pressing on until we were specifically asked to leave, under the explicit agreement we had made, seemed the best approach. We asked our questions, following up on the information they had shared, listening closely, looking for clarification, offering up as much space as we could for them to talk, all in trying to build some flow and dialogue.
Even though the message was negative, at least the parents were willing to talk to us. And so the young men faded out of the conversation, and the interview eventually switched over to the parents. Two hours later, it turned out that we had completed an excellent interview with them; they each had great stories about our topic area and revealed a lot of background about their family, about growing up, about their activities, and even their perspectives on what made the United States the country it had become. By not giving up, by ignoring our own discomfort, and by being patient in building rapport, a near-failure turned into a triumph.
Indeed, before we left the house, the mother insisted on cooking up some fried bread, fresh and hot for us. She stated that “No one comes here and doesn’t get food,” thus reiterating the intimate nature of food she had mentioned at the beginning, but this time as a compliment rather than a warning.
As soon as we left the house, my colleague turned to me and said, “I don’t know how you pulled that off; I thought we were done for and would have to leave.” I was very pleased with how the interview turned out, especially because it began so poorly, but there was little magic to it. I didn’t try to solve the big problem of the complex dynamic we had walked into; I just focused (especially at first) on the next problem—the immediate challenge of what to say next. I was certainly keeping the larger goals in mind of how to cover all the areas we were interested in, but I was focusing my energy as an interviewer on the next point. And by working at it in small pieces, bit by bit, the dynamic shifted. As interviewers, we had to compartmentalize the social experience of the event—the extreme discomfort and awkwardness of the early part of the interview—and stick to our jobs. We didn’t handle the situation that differently than any other interview, and it served as a testament to our approach—listening, following up (and showing that we were listening by the way we followed up), building rapport and trust bit by bit, until there was a great deal of openness and great information.
Looking back on this experience years later, it’s obvious that there are better ways to communicate with the participants ahead of time to screen out the unwilling. I should have spoken directly to the person we were visiting before the day of the interview, in order to get that person-to-person communication started early. But, given the diversity of people, there’s still a good chance that you’ll end up with someone sometime who isn’t initially comfortable with the interview process, and it’s your job to make them comfortable. Doing so may make you uncomfortable, but with practice, you’ll learn to set aside social dynamics and focus on the question asking and listening that will make the interview a success. See Chapter 8, “Optimizing the Interview,” for more on troubleshooting this type of common interview problem.
Work Toward the Tipping Point
There’s often a visceral point in the interview where the exchange shifts from a back-and-forth of question-and-answer, question-and-answer to a questionstory setup. It’s such a tangible shift in the interview that I feel as if I can point to it when it happens. Stories are where the richest insights lie, and your objective is to get to this point in every interview.
The thing about this tipping point is that you don’t know when it’s coming. So you have to be patient in the question-and-answer part of the interview because you don’t necessarily know that what you’re doing to build rapport is getting you anywhere. You have to trust in the process, which is easier with experience.
Acknowledge That the Interview Is...Something Unusual
Although your participants are using “social call” or “vendor meeting” as their initial framework for their experience with you, it’s not a perfect model. Strangers don’t typically visit us and take video of us grinding coffee beans. Falling back on naturalistic observation is disingenuous; it’s not easy for participants to pretend you aren’t there and just go on as they would normally. If we make the generous assumption that people on reality TV shows are in fact behaving naturally, that is typically due to an extensive amount of time surrounded by cameras, where what is natural shifts to something different. You won’t have enough time in your interview to accomplish that. Instead, leverage the constructed nature of your shared experience. You are empowered to ask silly-seeming detailed questions about the mundane because you are joined together in this uncommon interaction. Frame some of your questions with phrases such as “What I want to learn today is...” as an explicit reminder that you have different roles in this shared, unnatural experience.
Listening
When you engage in conversation, you’re often thinking about what you want to say next and listening for the breathing cues that indicate it’s your turn to speak. As you jockey for your 51% of the conversation space, listening becomes a limited resource. Although we all like to consider ourselves “good listeners,” for interviewing you must rely on a very special form of listening that goes beyond the fundamentals, such as “don’t interrupt.”
Listening is the most effective way you can build rapport. It’s how you demonstrate tangibly to your participants that what they have to say is important to you.
Listen by Asking Questions
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