When in doubt, just ask: "Wait, What?"

The first time I ever asked “Wait, what?” was moments before my son, Will, was born.

My wife, Katie, and I thought we had the whole labor and delivery thing figured out, even though we were first-time parents. We went to birthing classes; we practiced breathing; we watched videos. When the moment came, and Katie’s water broke on the morning of February 25, 1996, we knew we were ready.

We checked into the Lenox Hill hospital in New York City and were taken to a labor and delivery room, which was decorated like a room in a Marriott Hotel. The idea, I believe, was to replicate a home delivery in the hospital, assuming your home was decorated like a Marriott. Because this was her first time, Katie had no real idea whether she was in active labor or not. She had some mild pains, but the veteran nurses were not impressed. As we walked around the hospital, hoping to speed the process, with Katie mostly smiling and occasionally wincing, one older nurse told her, in classic New York fashion: “Honey, you know what you need? A real contraction.”

The real contractions came about ten hours later. They were hard to miss. The problem was that nothing else seemed to be happening, and after a while, Katie and our soon-to-be-son, Will started to suffer. The doctor came into the room and said nonchalantly that it was time to take us to a different room. This was not part of the original plan, but we went along without question.

The other room was actually an operating room, so we went from the cozy confines of our ersatz hotel quarters into a brightly lit, cold, tiled chamber. Waiting for us was a team of technicians and nurses. I stood next to Katie’s bed, while the doctor explained very calmly that Will was essentially stuck, likely because he had an unusually large head, and that they had to get him out right away. The doctor asked if we preferred forceps or a suction cup to aid the delivery. Katie screamed: “Just make it stop!” This was not directly responsive to the question, but I decided it was best not to point that out. I instead replied that I thought the doctor might be in a better position to make the choice, explaining that this was our first time through and pointing out that none of the videos we had watched went over the pros and cons of suction cups versus forceps. He decided on the suction cup.

The next thing I knew, a man was standing next to me. He introduced himself as a doctor and then explained, also very calmly, that he was going to press his forearm on Katie’s stomach and squeeze out our baby, “kind of like you might squeeze a pit out of an olive.” As he reached across Katie’s stomach and grabbed the opposite bed rail for leverage, I distinctly remember thinking that we never went over this particular procedure in birthing class, nor was this “squeeze the pit out of the olive” move ever featured in our birthing videos.

But all I could say was: “Wait, what?” Instead of answering, the doctor pressed down on Katie’s stomach. Katie politely explained that this was causing her some mild discomfort—I think her exact words were “Get off me or I’ll kill you.” Moments later, Will acted just like an olive pit and popped out.

I have since asked the question—Wait, what?—many times, and it has become a ubiquitous question among the younger crowd, including my four children. It can be derided or dismissed as evidence of distraction or as proof of the continued degradation of language and mangling of grammar. Some might complain, for example, that the “wait,” which precedes the “what,” is entirely unnecessary.

But I think the question is an essential one to ask and to ask again. In particular, the “wait” is especially useful because it signals surprise and a request to slow down in order to ensure understanding. When I asked the doctor this question, for example, I was expressing my complete surprise and hoping he would slow down for a second to explain himself. It didn’t work in that instant because time was of the essence, but that was the intent and it is often the result of asking this seemingly simple question.

Asking this question is especially important today. Too often, we fail to take the time to truly understand an argument or an issue. Instead, we hear just enough to quickly form an opinion either in favor or against. In rushing to judgment, we are also prone to cast aspersions on those with whom we disagree as either ignorant or evil. Indeed, this has become a common feature of our public discourse, which seems more like an exercise in picking sides than a genuine conversation.

If we instead inquire a bit more before we make judgments or advocate, we can avoid needless conflict and, just as importantly, we will ultimately be in a better position to advocate for our own views. The only way to persuade someone with whom you disagree—whether it is around the kitchen table or in the board room—is to address the very best version of the other person’s argument or position. If you fail to fully understand and appreciate that version, you may do a very good job at knocking down straw men, but you are never going to persuade anyone who doesn’t already agree with you. So before you make a judgment and begin arguing, it pays to ask “Wait, what?” to make sure you fully understand someone else’s views.

Wait, what? isn’t the only essential question to ask, of course. In a forthcoming book, I suggest it is one of five essential questions. The other four are: I wonder? Couldn’t we at least? How can I help? And What Truly Matters? As I explain in the book, these questions are useful across countless contexts, and they can just as easily get you through a Monday morning at work as they can help you steer your way through life’s biggest decisions. They are also very handy, practical questions that can help you make connections with those you don’t know and may not understand, which is a skill that is both critical and in seemingly short supply these days.

When I think of these five essential questions, I am reminded of the custodian in my elementary school. He had a huge key ring, hanging from his belt. The keys fascinated me, in part because they seemed to outnumber the doors in our elementary school, or at least the doors that you could see as a student. I wondered what other doors, unseen, the keys might unlock, and what lay behind them. Keys, to me, signaled power, and for that reason I thought the custodian was the most powerful person in school because he had all the keys.

Questions are like keys. The right question, asked at the right time, will open a door to something you didn’t yet know, something you hadn’t yet realized, or something you hadn’t even considered—about others and about yourself. What I am suggesting is that these five essential questions are like five critical keys on a key ring. While you’ll certainly need other keys from time to time, you’ll never want to be without these five, starting with the very first: Wait, What?

Adapted from WAIT, WHAT? And Life’s Other Essential Questions. Copyright ? 2017 by James E. Ryan. Published by HarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.