Harvard’s Behaviour Expert: The Psychology Of Why People Don't Like You!

People obsess over why they’re not liked and how to fix it. I want the playbook, the questions, the science—everything—to become a more persuasive, influential, likable talker. Today’s guest is Harvard behavioral scientist Professor Alison Wood Brooks, and she’s here to unpack the mistakes we make, the art of negotiation, and how to get people to actually enjoy talking to us.

Conversation feels simple, but under the hood it’s messy and complex. That’s why we blurt, bore, or get hostile, and it’s why strategies like reframing nerves as excitement or moving beyond small talk matter so much.

Quick thank you to everyone who listens; it means the world. Professor, what do you do, and what promise can we make to listeners who stick with this?

I’m a behavioral scientist and professor. I created a course and wrote a book called Talk. If you learn even one effective strategy, your relationships, work, and decision-making improve dramatically, because everything runs on conversation.

Are many people disliked or misunderstood because they don’t know how to talk well? And what are we really aiming for—likability, connection, performance?

Most of us are misunderstood because we can’t say our whole selves out loud, and we all curate imperfectly. Our aims aren’t just to be liked; we want warmth, competence, ease, safety, progress, and good decisions. It’s a knot of motives, not a single target.

I’m more introverted than people think. Crowds drain me, I hate small talk, and I sometimes freeze when I feel judged—like meeting a colleague’s family. I even ruminate for weeks about awkward encounters.

That’s common among high performers who care about this skill. Also, preferencing one-on-one talks over groups isn’t a flaw—it’s a preference. Group dynamics are cognitively heavy; curate your social portfolio so the who and how many fit you.

Why this field for you?

I grew up loving teams, friendship, and I’m an identical twin, which is like watching another you communicate and learn. At Harvard I saw a gap: few people studied real transcripts at scale. That led to research on emotions in talking, especially turning anxiety into excitement.

Tell me about the anxiety work and negotiations.

High-stakes talks trigger uncertainty and low control, which fuels anxiety. When we label that state as excitement, we focus on opportunities and perform better, even in karaoke or public speaking. In negotiations, anxiety makes people concede too much or leave early. Training helps, and so does power—like strengthening your alternative offer so you’re not desperate for a yes.

How would you ask me for a raise without triggering my defenses? I’ve felt people can set my back up the moment they ask for money.

My personal stance is to become so valuable the raise chases you, but tactically, learn whether you’re talking to the right decision-maker, what constraints exist, and what proof matters to them. Ask questions before making demands, and build your best fallback option.

I’ll follow your framework. I’ve got blocks that spell T-A-L-K. You lead.

Let’s start by mapping your goals using a conversational compass. Picture two axes: information exchange and relationship focus. Every talk blends connection, savoring and enjoyment, protection of time or reputation, and advancing work like decisions or persuasion.

A recent example: I apologized to my girlfriend. I wanted her to feel understood and to know I owned it, without excuses.

That’s high on relationship. Great apologies own the harm and commit to change with a concrete plan. Don’t re-litigate or explain it away, and avoid repeating the apology endlessly in one conversation, which drags you both back into the negative.

How should we prepare for difficult conversations?

Don’t think in terms of “difficult” versus “easy.” Every conversation has micro-moments of difference—words, emotions, motives, beliefs, identities. The skill is receptiveness: fight the urge to win, validate feelings first, ask how they came to that view, hedge your claims, and even speak from multiple parts of yourself to keep things open. Avoid leading with “I disagree,” which shuts people down neurologically; try a gentle “I can see why you’d feel that way” and build from there. “Yes, and” beats “but.”

I once worked with someone who started every reply with “I disagree,” and it instantly raised my defenses. I’ve also seen brain scans that show disagreement lowers receptiveness. Swapping in “and” for “but” changed whole conversations for me.

Let’s tie this to likability and my TALK framework, which I designed to be teachable and rigorous, and it even aligns with how AI can coach language. T is topics. We’re always choosing what to talk about, not just at the start. Offload some thinking before you speak: jot two or three things you want to ask or share. It lowers anxiety, smooths transitions, reduces blurting, and makes you kinder because you remember what matters to them.

Prepping probably makes you more likable because you’re tuned into them. If I needed to be a one out of ten on likability I’d be distracted and rude. At ten out of ten I’m present, warm, and personal.

Exactly. Small talk isn’t the enemy; lingering there is. Move up a topic pyramid from general to tailored to deep, at a pace that feels natural. Vulnerability happens at the top, but you don’t have to sprint there.

A is asking. Most people should ask more questions, especially follow-ups. On dates, in meetings, and in fundraising, follow-ups power the benefits because they show interest and help you learn what matters. In speed-dating data, those who ask more questions are far more likely to get a second date, and men especially benefit because they ask fewer.

What makes a good follow-up? I tried staying with your story and asking you to take me through it, rather than pivoting back to myself.

That’s it. Avoid the boomerang move where you ask, then yank the focus back to your own tale. Our brains are egocentric, so it’s tempting; resist it and stay with them for at least another beat.

I’ve had to coach people who nod you into silence because they’re waiting to talk. Others get feedback that they’re not even listening. Self-awareness ranges wildly. Can people actually change this?

Yes. Over-monitoring can exhaust you, but many lack basic awareness and improve quickly once they see conversation as a high-impact skill with real returns. Clarity alone sets a growth path.

K is kindness. Names matter, and respectful language changes outcomes. In traffic-stop transcripts, more respectful speech led to smoother interactions, and biased language did harm. Also, energy is finite. Even good communicators fall short when tired, so tell people your battery level and ask for grace. Offer it back.

L is levity. The common enemy isn’t just conflict; it’s boredom. Use humor and warmth to keep engagement alive. Sense when topics go stale and switch. Callbacks are magic—they prove you listened and can be a great way to end a conversation gracefully.

In the gym, I’ll end a chat by offering my real email so they can follow up later. It ends things cleanly when I’m mid-set. I also lean one-on-one. Big groups can feel chaotic.

That’s reasonable. Protecting time is a valid goal. On introversion and extroversion, people differ in what recharges them. One sign: if a party goes awkwardly silent, do you feel it’s your job to rescue it or to slip away? I’ve built a quick quiz on tendencies with tailored strategies across topics, asking, levity, and kindness.

In groups I’ve seen people overtalk and erode their credibility. I call it a contribution score. I’ve also seen bad switching—dragging us off course just to speak. Clear roles and topic leadership help, especially with co-hosts or interviews where timing matters.

Airtime is tricky. If the non-expert dominates, value drops and others go quiet. There are many ways to contribute—facilitating, scribing, time-keeping, keeping the agenda aligned. Brief sidebars can add levity if you steer back fast. Clarity on who leads keeps things from splintering.

Listeners care about handling “narcissists,” tough talks, being liked, and persuasion. They rarely ask about listening.

Those are all about mishandled disagreement. People ignore the quiet failures—boredom and poor listening. Be interested more than interesting. Entrepreneurs should ask and learn before pitching. A former CIA officer put it well: your view and the other person’s view are different realities. The only way to see theirs is to ask. My favorite opener is, what are you excited about lately?

You mentioned new work on male friendship. Are men worse at conversation?

Conversation is hard for everyone, but I watched men meeting new male friends and they rarely shared hopes, fears, or goals. They stayed shoulder-to-shoulder on activities and didn’t cross into vulnerability. That makes it harder to form close bonds, and loneliness is brutal for men. All of this—better topics, braver questions, levity, apologies, listening—takes courage. It’s learnable and worth it.

Men seem more isolated than ever and often lean on a partner for all emotional needs. How do I actually make more friends as a man?

One honest conversation at a time. Signal that you’re up for real talk by asking what they’ve been wrestling with or excited about, and nudge beyond play‑by‑play or sports chat into something personal so a true bond can form.

I once watched a young professional stand up in front of hundreds and ask how to make friends, and everyone leaned in. It really can start with a simple hello.

Even my students need a prompt to turn to the person beside them. Read the room, then go past small talk with a lighter version of that famous thirty‑six‑question exercise, like asking what they’re excited about lately and following up; if it helps, blame me for asking.

I tried a version of those questions years ago and learned quickly that honest sharing opens the door to connection.

Exactly; friendship needs repeated positive moments and some vulnerability so you feel known.

Switching gears, how do I get better at persuading people at work when I’m selling an idea, not a product?

Influence grows from trust, warmth, and respect over time; learn their logic, affirm what makes sense, and remember that validating isn’t agreeing. Stay open to their view so they’ll stay open to yours.

When someone feels heard, the loop of repeating the same point breaks and I can finally make my case.

We often confuse disagreement with not being heard, so open with curiosity and acknowledgment before you counter.

It’s wild that talks about speaking go viral while listening gets sidelined.

Listening looks passive but it’s mentally hard, and the people we call charismatic are often just superb, responsive listeners.

A former spy told me he spent weeks riding with a driver, asking gentle follow‑ups until he understood what really mattered to the target, then he made the ask at the right time.

That’s the play; great listeners notice, think, and then reflect back in words with paraphrases and probing questions that prove attention, while nods and mm‑hmms are just the basics.

Given my mission to be the best conversationalist and persuader I can be, what did we miss?

Silence. Early on, long gaps feel like trouble; later they signal ease. And there’s the digital flood we live in.

Now AI is pumping out soulless messages, so I’ve even started throwing in intentional typos just to feel human again.

Try auditing a slice of time across every channel you use; juggling them is exhausting, and only in‑person exchanges feel truly real while devices keep tugging attention away.

I stopped reading certain AI‑styled interview write‑ups from my team and asked for their own voice and judgment; once the tone changed, I cared again.

That tracks; we invest in people, and generic models flatten voice. I even tested an AI version of my office hours that’s always available, removes grading pressure, and gives instant feedback, which leaves me genuinely torn.

All of which makes human conversation a superpower in the age of bots.

Completely; whatever the future brings, these skills will matter, so I’m all‑in on teaching kids to talk well, in real life.

I also think older generations got more real‑world reps, which shows.

Right; different eras forged different habits, and the generational gaps are real.

Your subtitle mentions the art of being ourselves; should we bring our authentic selves to work?

Practice deliberate authenticity; carry your values, read the context, and adapt your behavior to serve the shared goal, which isn’t manipulation, it’s good stewardship of the conversation.

So you can do something that feels slightly performative in service of genuine connection.

Exactly; those tiny moments pass as you find a real spark in what they say and follow up on it.

On a personal note, my partner and I are trying for a baby; it’s thrilling and feels like a huge trade‑off.

I’m excited for you; it’s both selfless and oddly self‑serving because life reorganizes around them, and the long project is teaching them how to relate and communicate.

How do I set them up for that, and should I be strict on screens?

Model it daily, let them stumble and succeed, and be firm with tech; we keep screen time brief and fixed, hold off on phones until high school, and push social media much later because the slope is slippery.

We end with a passing‑the‑baton question: if your life were a film up to now, what would the audience be shouting at you to do?

Leave Harvard and scale a conversation curriculum to help teens break digital addiction and loneliness by removing phones from classrooms and bringing real talk back in.

This feels like the definitive, research‑grounded guide to communication, accessible and useful, so thank you for the work.

Thank you for the platform and for amplifying it.