I Interrupt Because I Care and Have No Chill.

I love a good story, but, because nothing is perfect, I can also be a chronic interrupter. Yes. Me.

The hypocrisy is strong.

I interrupt for two reasons. One: I have the attention span of a raccoon in traffic. I want you to land the plane. Get to the part where something explodes or someone cries or there’s a plot twist. Two: I interrupt because I’m trying to connect. If you say, “So then my flight got delayed,” my brain screams, THIS HAPPENED TO ME ONCE AND I MUST SHARE OR I WILL DIE.

I’m not being rude. I’m being relatable. But wow, is it annoying.

Apparently, this is a real public speaking trick. Allegedly used by FBI agents. Which feels aggressive, but okay.

It’s called a command pause.

You start your story with a short, bossy line. “Listen to this.” “Check this out, it’s nuts.” “You’re not going to believe this.”

Then you pause. Just long enough to make everyone uncomfortable.

That pause tells the listener’s brain, Something important is coming. Shut up. And shockingly, it works.

As an interrupter, I hate it. As someone who wants to finish a sentence for once, I love it.

Because here’s the truth: I know I interrupt. I’m working on it. Slowly. With effort. And deep internal screaming.

And I hereby give everyone permission—no, encouragement—to use this tactic on me. Please. Command pause me. Stare into my soul. Make me wait.

Because if you don’t, I will jump in with, “OH MY GOD SAME” before you reach the good part.

I want to be better, to listen and stop hijacking your story with my own emotional TED Talk.

So if you start a story with, “Hold on—this is wild,” and then pause, I’ll sit there. Quiet. Respectful. Barely breathing.

Just don’t pause too long. I’ll lose focus.