Gensheimer: Advice to enterprising liars

Most of us grew up learning that although we should never lie, it is OK to tell the occasional… Most of us grew up learning that although we should never lie, it is OK to tell the occasional fib.

To fib, by definition, is to tell a small or trivial lie. To lie, however, is to speak falsely with intent to deceive.

I have always been under the impression that fibbing is a much smaller infraction than lying. My mom would tell me, “If you tell a girl you like her dress when you really don’t, but it makes her feel good about herself, that’s a fib or a white lie. But if you tell me you’re going to a friend’s house, and you’re really doing something else, that’s a lie.”

Once I thought I had mastered the fine line between lying and fibbing, I’ll admit, I became the fibbing queen. The problem that remains, however, is that the line between a fib and a lie is murky at best.

Is fibbing simply telling a lie to make someone feel better? In that case, I’ll tell my mom I have never been drunk. That’ll make her proud. I’ll tell my dad that a tree fell over and hit my parked car instead of admitting that somehow the red traffic light just wasn’t bright enough. He’ll feel much better thinking his daughter isn’t an irresponsible driver.

You’re probably thinking, “Girl, your parents would never believe that crap,” in which case, you’re right. Yet if you’re anything like me, you’ve experimented in the realm of fibs and lies to see what you can get away with. Unfortunately for me, I can’t get away with anything.

But with two simple steps, you can minimize the risk factor and make anyone believe anything. Well, maybe.

The first step to successful lying is playing the part.

Now, some people are naturally good liars. They don’t break eye contact, breathe heavily or spill coffee because of uncontrollable tremors. Basically, they’re real-life actors and actresses.

To make someone believe what you’re saying, you must speak casually, as though you are stating what you ate for breakfast. Take a deep breath, keep your body loose and remember to keep it cool.

First, say something true, and then immediately carry over into the lie. Toss it in without appearing awkward. Let’s practice.

Truth: “Yeah, I had Cheerios for breakfast with skim milk and a banana.” Smooth transition into a lie: “Oh, and by the way, I don’t have a thing for your boyfriend at all. Totally, like, whatever. No, I definitely don’t.”

See how it works? Easy. It just requires some practice to get it right. Always slip a lie in between a lot of true statements because it’ll be far more difficult to recognize.

Let’s move on to the second step of a great lie: keeping your story straight. This step is more challenging, as it requires strong compartmentalizing skills. Based on how many lies you’re telling at one time and whether you’re telling the same lie — or some version of it — to different people, you must keep your lies organized.

If you possess a high-functioning brain and really think about what you’re saying, then you should be OK. If you’re forgetful like me, I suggest keeping a handy lie journal. Organize it either by person or by lie, and then document the details of the lie. The drawback: It might be just a little obvious if you refer to your lie journal mid-lie.

“So anyway, yesterday when you called I was getting coffee with … Hang on. Let me just look something up in my journal really quickly … Oh yeah, I was having coffee with Christine.”

Not so smooth. Your best bet is to review the contents of your journal before any social encounter so that you are on your fibbing A-game. Now, if you’re thinking that everything I’ve told you is absurd, you caught me. I told you I can’t get away with anything. But if you’ll actually implement these tips — well, best of luck to you. Gullibility might be a bigger issue for you than lying.

E-mail Alie at alg62@pitt.edu.