What Hijacking Actually Looks Like in Conversations

How to Avoid Hijacking a Conversation

It was late in the afternoon at Veltrix Assembly in Toledo. Forklifts buzzed through the warehouse. Most people were wrapping up for the day.

Janice, the warehouse supervisor, spotted Evelyn standing near the loading dock. She was holding her phone and looked worried.

Janice walked over. “Everything okay, Evelyn?”

Evelyn looked up. Her eyes were a little red. “I just talked to my mom,” she said. “Her health isn’t great. I’m trying to juggle everything—this job, helping her, my kids…”

She trailed off, clearly overwhelmed.

The Moment of Truth

Janice’s heart dropped. She remembered being in the same boat.

Five years ago, her dad had gotten sick. She had spent months caring for him, while trying to keep up at work. The long nights. The stress. The guilt. It all came rushing back.

“Oh, Evelyn,” Janice began. “I totally get it. When my dad got sick, I was a wreck.”

She dove into her own story. She talked about late nights managing his meds, then showing up at 6 a.m. for inventory. About doctors who didn’t communicate. About hospital runs during a big shipping deadline.

At some point, she noticed Evelyn’s body language shift. She wasn’t nodding anymore. She looked around the warehouse, checked her watch, and stepped back a little.

Janice kept going—until she realized Evelyn hadn’t spoken in several minutes.

A Quiet Realization

Evelyn tried to end the chat politely. “Yeah, that sounds really tough, Janice. I should probably get back to—”

Janice paused. Something felt off.

Then it hit her.

She had meant to help. But instead of listening, she had made the moment about her own experience.

She hadn’t asked Evelyn anything. She hadn’t learned what Evelyn needed. She’d hijacked the conversation.

Janice took a breath. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. I got caught up in my own story. I really do want to help. Can you tell me more about what’s going on with your mom?”

Getting Back on Track

Evelyn relaxed a bit. “She’s having some heart trouble,” she said. “The doctors want to run tests, but she’s scared to go alone. I’m trying to be there for her without falling behind here—especially with the new product launch.”

This time, Janice listened. Really listened.

She asked questions. About the timing. About her mom’s fears. About what Evelyn needed.

Turns out, Evelyn’s situation wasn’t like Janice’s at all. This wasn’t about long-term care. It was about showing up for someone during a scary time.

“Have you talked to HR?” Janice asked. “We have family leave options. And I’ll work with you on your schedule. The launch matters, but your family comes first.”

“Really?” Evelyn said, visibly relieved. “I wasn’t sure I could ask.”

“Of course,” Janice said. “And if you just need to talk, I’m here. It’s hard. You shouldn’t have to carry it alone.”

The Real Support

In the days that followed, Janice checked in often. She asked how the tests went. Asked how her mom was doing. Made sure Evelyn had the space and support she needed.

And the shift was clear. Evelyn wasn’t burned out. She felt seen. Supported. And when she returned, she came back focused—not drained.

Janice later thought back to that first talk. She had almost missed the chance to help because she was too eager to relate.

Her heart was in the right place. But empathy isn’t about proving you understand. It’s about giving someone space to feel what they feel.

When to Share—and When to Just Listen

When someone opens up to you, it’s a sign of trust. They’re handing you something fragile. Your job? Don’t drop it.

It’s normal to want to share your story. It can help. Sometimes. If it’s short and thoughtful.

But the key is keeping the focus on them.

The goal isn’t to explain your own hard times. The goal is to make them feel heard and less alone.

Sometimes that means asking gentle questions. Sometimes it means sitting in silence. And sometimes it means holding back your story—so theirs has room to breathe.

If you catch yourself taking over the talk, stop. It’s okay. Say something like, “Sorry, I got off track—tell me more about what you’re going through.”

That one line can change everything.

Good Listeners Don’t Have All the Answers

You don’t need to fix the problem. You don’t need to have the perfect story. You just need to be there—with kindness and care.

When someone leaves the conversation, they should feel lighter, not smaller. Heard, not ignored.

That’s what real support feels like.

Lesson Insights: What Hijacking Looks Like

• Most hijacking isn’t mean—it comes from trying too hard to relate
• Empathy doesn’t mean your story matches theirs
• People need space more than they need advice
• You won’t always get it perfect—but noticing and shifting matters

Best Practices: Stay Present Without Taking Over

• Pause before you speak: Are you about to help—or shift the spotlight?
• Ask open-ended questions: Try, “What’s been the hardest part?”
• Keep stories short: If you share, keep it under 30 seconds. Then turn it back to them.
• Watch body language: Looking away or checking the time? You might be losing them.
• Reflect and ask: Say, “Is this what you’re feeling?” to check in and connect.

Quick Checklist for Good Listening

• Did I ask two or more questions before I shared my own story?
• Am I really listening—or just waiting to speak?
• Have I summed up what they said to make sure I got it?
• If I shared something, did I turn it back to them?
• Am I offering help based on what they need—not what I would want?

Final Thought

At work, your title doesn’t make you a leader—how you listen does.

When someone trusts you with their story, it’s not a signal to jump in. It’s a call to slow down. Make space. And let them lead the way.

That’s how real connection starts.