Getting time-sucked can put a damper on a perfectly good night out

Thank me later, as I plan to introduce you to a phrase you will use freely from here on out to describe an epidemic that is sweeping the nation, one Chicago bar or party at a time.

It’s a phrase that unfortunately I cannot take credit for, but I anticipate will, from this point forward, take off and be used by movie stars and MTVers and maybe even — gulp — our parents, in an effort show us they can still be hip.

The phrase is “time-sucked.” I realize it sounds a little harsh, but it’s so descriptive, so perfect in its simplicity, that it shouldn’t offend. It should be referred to often, laughed about when need be and perhaps copyrighted.

“I just started saying it when we were at a party, because it felt like someone was sucking the life out of me,” says my friend Elizabeth, the originator of the phrase that has nowhere to go but mainstream society.

An explanation is in order, I suppose, because I can guarantee you’ve been time-sucked, and possibly even time-sucked others. Time-sucking occurs when someone gabs, and gabs … and gabs some more. They drag you through the most boring or time-consuming of conversations and, in turn, keep you from having a good time, catching the train, sleeping, shopping, beating someone to that last appetizer on the plate, hearing an infinitely more humorous story from someone who is actually entertaining, etc.

Time-sucking occurs when they sink their claws into you and won’t let go. They feel like talking, and they’ve targeted you to listen. It’s not defined by the level of boredom or length of time necessarily, but rather by an overwhelming need to escape. If you feel like you want to run and are looking for exits, you know you’re being time-sucked. Or if you’re generally an honest person and are ready to start lying to get out the ordeal.

According to Elizabeth, there are two kinds of time-suckers.

First is the kind who doesn’t care that they are time-sucking. They may know what they’re saying is annoying and uninteresting, but it doesn’t matter. They simply aren’t the slightest bit concerned with your time constraints. They’re going to say what they have to say, perhaps selfishly and no doubt in a rambling fashion, and you’re going to sit there and take it.

“They’re probably generally boring people,” says Elizabeth. “That’s them. They’d never talk if they were waiting for something interesting to say.”

The second kind is the person who is probably interesting from time to time, where he or she honestly believes what they’re saying at that time is appealing and has you intrigued.

“Sometimes, they don’t mean it at all,” says Elizabeth, “and halfway through, they probably realize they’re time-sucking. You almost feel some compassion for them.”

So what does it feel like to be time-sucked? Well, that depends largely on the situation. If you’re on your cell phone in rush-hour traffic or sprawled out on the couch with the AC cranked and nowhere to be, it’s not the end of the world. It’s still time-sucking if you’re less than interested in the one-sided conversation, it’s just on a lesser scale. When it’s bad though, when it’s really maddening, is when you’re forced to stop what you’re doing to listen, and what you’re doing happens to be a hell of a lot more fun.

“All I do is notice everyone around me having a good time, and I know that I’m not able to,” says Elizabeth about being time-sucked at a recent party. “It’s just a horrible, horrible thing to do to people.”

Yes, it is bad, but what’s worse is when other people know you’re getting time-sucked and they’re actually getting a kick out of it. It’s as if they’re saying, “Hey, better you than me.” If you know a boat’s going to sink, you don’t go jumping on board, do you?

Equally as stressful is when one person can be witnessed time-sucking an entire group individually, moving from one unsuspecting victim to another in a social setting, spreading the nauseating word about her trip to a family reunion in Kentucky or how her roommate opens her mail or how down he is about his ex-girlfriend or how his mechanic gave him a raw deal on a carburetor.

One source, who shall remain nameless for fear of time-sucking retribution, was recently held captive in her office for 59 minutes. She knows how long it was because she kept track, as she was supposed to be saving bleacher seats for friends at a Cubs night game. Instead, she was the last to arrive, right in the middle of the National Anthem. Her co-worker is going through a rough time in her personal life, so it was difficult to bolt without looking insensitive, but these issues are usually the only topic of conversation between them, to the point it has become “exhausting.” And magnifying it worse is the fact the co-worker never seems concerned with the element of time, or the subtle hints, like shutting down a computer, glancing repeatedly at your text messages or grabbing a purse and heading toward the door.

It’s gotten so bad that several victims I talked to recently said they’ve stopped hanging out with certain people in an effort to avoid the aggravation. Or at least they’ve tried to avoid contact in a social setting. That can be tough when it’s a friend, but surprisingly easy if it’s just an acquaintance. Think about it: You could be missing out on the best part of the night in the 20 or 30 minutes when you’re sitting there, listening to them drone on and on.

Which reminds me of an epic time-sucking last winter. I was at a birthday party at a bar, seated with three others at a table with booths, when a casual friend of two of the women at the table approached, pulled up a chair (basically blocking us in) and proceeded to tell two of us he had never met before and two others he knew only a bit about how he had broken up with his girlfriend earlier that morning and what went wrong in the relationship. For 45 painful minutes. He was a little too full of himself, too much of a potential used-car salesman who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, even at the expense of our brain cells. I actually felt dumber for having been seated there. I longed for a police taser. The mood at the table had gone from a peak to a valley. We went from sharing laughter about something we all had in common to listening to a virtual stranger talk about his diminished love life. He wasn’t asking for advice. He was just talking, and it was selfish and irritating.

At one point, when he wasn’t looking, I gave the international sign for getting hanged, which made the others chuckle. They understood we were all stranded in the same sinking life raft, and I didn’t care about hurting feelings at this point. Who does that to people they barely know? I don’t remember how, exactly, but I eventually managed to excuse myself, much to the dismay of my three counterparts, who shot me dirty looks as I bolted for my freedom. I felt like Andy Dufresne after he escaped Shawshank by crawling through 500 yards of sewer.

And that’s just it with a group time-sucking. No one likes it when someone escapes the net. You’re supposed to stay together and suffer together. But not me. I’m usually a very good listener. Many people will say so. But with this joker, my mind wandered to parts unknown as he described his morning argument with the ex. To places it normally doesn’t go in a social atmosphere. I was annoyed. I was looking for exits — or a taser.

A funny thing happened about an hour later. I was standing there, chatting with a few people, when one of the hosts of the party brings the same guy up to my new group to introduce him. I wanted to run and hide, but what does he do? He introduces himself to me all over again. He was so busy time-sucking the four of us before, he didn’t even bother to look me in the eye. He had no idea that he had met me earlier. He enjoyed the sound of his own voice that much. That’s 45 minutes of my life I’ll never get back, and forgiveness is not an option.

Elizabeth admits she’s even been time-sucked over e-mail. “That’s tough to do,” she says. I told her I’ve been time-sucked by a homeless guy. I let him start rambling about his days in the Army and comparing various cities in which he lived, and while I didn’t want to be rude to a man down on his luck, it delayed the delivery of this magazine by a good 20 minutes or more. As I departed, I handed him a sandwich I had in my car, but instead of taking a bite, he put it in his pocket and approached someone else, looking to chat some more.

I was raised well, to be polite and courteous and to listen. But I’m altering my approach from this day forward. I’m taking a stand. I will not be time-sucked anymore. I don’t have the patience, and I’ve got too many things going on these days. Including looking for those copyright papers before this time-sucked thing hits it big in Hollywood.

Trent Modglin
Publisher
The Real Chicago
Trent@TheRealChicago.org

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