I spend a lot of time writing from coffee shops.

Which means I also spend a lot of time unintentionally listening to other people's conversations.

A few weeks ago, two friends were sitting near me catching up.

One was complaining about a woman she worked with.

The other was complaining about a guy she worked with.

For twenty minutes they traded stories about two completely different people who apparently shared the same remarkable ability to make everyone around them fucking miserable.

Susie's a bitch.

Brandon takes no accountability.

Management doesn't care.

Someone dropped the ball again.

And while I was sitting there pretending not to listen, I kept thinking:

There has to be something else these two people could talk about.

Don’t get me wrong... Susie probably is a pain in the ass and Brandon likely does avoid accountability like it's an Olympic sport.

But they were so deep in the conversation, I don't think either of them realized they'd spent the majority of their time together talking about two people they didn't even like…

That's what's so insidious about complaining. Most of us don't even realize we're doing it.

A shitty interaction happens, you tell someone about it later and feel a little better once it's off your chest.

And when you spend most of your waking hours dealing with the same people, problems, and politics, there's no shortage of material.

So you get home after a frustrating day and your partner asks, "How was work?"

You tell them.

Then your friend calls and you tell them too.

Your mom asks how things are going and you give her the abbreviated version.

By the third retelling, you're not processing anything new.

You're just rehashing the same frustration for a different audience.

But there's a difference between seeking counsel and repeatedly narrating your own misery.

Talking through something because you need perspective creates clarity.

Complaining because it's become your only pressure-release valve keeps you emotionally attached to the thing you're trying to get relief from.

If you want to know which one you're doing, pay attention.

How many times in the last month have you told the same work story to different people?

How often do you start a conversation by asking someone how work's been, or notice they do the same to you?

If you think about your best friend right now, can you remember the last thing they were excited about?

Or just that they want to shoot someone in accounting?

If you slow down long enough to notice this, you might be surprised by how much of your time together is spent talking about work.

Changing this is harder than it sounds when you've been doing it on autopilot for years.

Which is why it helps to have a small practice that creates some separation.

When you finish work, take two minutes before moving into the rest of your life and decide how you want to show up.

If you're meeting a friend for coffee or sitting down for dinner with your partner, think of one or two things you genuinely want to ask them about.

Something they're building. Something they're excited about. Something they mentioned the last time you spoke.

Give the conversation somewhere else to go before work inevitably fills the space.

And when you catch yourself halfway through the same story about the same person who pissed you off on Tuesday, interrupt yourself.

"Actually, I've talked about this enough."

Then move on.

It might feel a little awkward at first.

When you've spent years defaulting to work, removing it from the conversation can leave a weird amount of empty space.

Good.

Give yourself a chance to fill it with something better.

Ask another question. Follow the story instead of steering the conversation back to your own frustration. Find out what the person sitting across from you is excited about, worried about, or thinking through.

You might be surprised by how much more there is to talk about when you stop giving the people you dislike at work the best seat at the table.

You already spend enough time dealing with them.

You don't need to bring them to dinner too.