(by Amber Dembowski)
Small and Talk are like curse words to me. I’ve always hated small talk. I love my job, but when someone asks me what I do for a living, I immediately want to feed my face with a suck-it sandwich and then collapse to the ground and cry out like a wounded creature until they leave me alone.
This reaction is a far cry from my grandpa’s reaction. He doesn’t know a stranger. He is deeply intrigued by everyone’s story. He gives you his full attention and wants to learn more about you. You could live the most boring life and yet he is eager to hear more, mining for that little nugget of information that makes you special. He values everyone’s perspective and experiences they bring to the conversation, no matter your age or background. Everyone is important.
My grandpa, although passed, is someone who I deeply love and admire. His birthday is in July, so I tend to think about him more frequently during this month, and I always reflect on his courageous human-ness. He’s a huge role model for me, and although it seems impossible to attain, I’m always striving to become more like him each day.
And as I was reflecting on my grandpa’s incredible gift of small talk, and my strained relationship with the idea, I’ve realized, small talk is just an opener for a better conversation. When someone asks me what I do for a living, what they’re really asking is, “What should you and I talk about?” and my grandpa had this down to an art.
My grandpa realized each person holds a treasure within them. There's always something they can share that will surprise, amuse, shock, or enlighten you. Often, with just a gentle nudge, they reveal aspects of themselves that can enrich your own experience, offering insights into life's complexities and depths. When you connect deeply with someone, you absorb a fragment of their essence, and in doing so, you expand your own empathy, wisdom, and understanding of the world.
Here’s my problem: I suck at it, and I despise the thought of it. Technological progress has given us permission to withdraw, and has allowed us to avoid human interactions as a means of efficiency. This is amazing for people like me!
But Richard Sennett, a sociologist, praises the idea of friction in life, which is a concept that is almost becoming extinct. The frictions in life are the little inefficiencies that force us to interact with strangers – like asking for directions or ordering a pizza over the phone. But those mere tasks, which were once common practice, can seem daunting now.
I’m evidence of someone who avoids human contact if at all possible, and maybe you are too. I generally pick the self-checkout lanes even though there’s no line with the sales clerk, or answer the barista’s chipper questions with one word don’t-talk-to-me-anymore answers, and pray that the person sitting next to me on the plane puts her earbuds in and looks out the window. I often use these times, of sitting in a waiting room or standing in line next to others, to do some deep thinking. I choose to enjoy the solitude, even though other human beings are literally right next to me. Rather than finding ways to connect, I use the time to sit alone with my thoughts.
But, what the researchers have found is pretty incredible, considering we all tend to avoid any kind of interaction with the outside world:
For years there has been research on the power of strong and positive social connections, but most of those studies were directed towards your inner circle of family and friends. More recently there have been studies about connections with weak ties, such as passing acquaintances, parents of the students in your classrooms, or perhaps the principal down the street from you. Research found that when we connect with people who we aren’t normally connected to for brief moments throughout the day it creates multiple short-term boosts of happiness that have lasting benefits.
Interacting with strangers is good for us. It’s good for our mind. These interactions, complementing your already close relationships, creates a more balanced social diet. Something my grandpa already knew, and I wish I would’ve learned from him a long time ago. Giving myself permission to treat others as objects rather than sources of well-being has created missed opportunities of feeling happy and more connected to my community.
So what’s keeping us away from this readily available resource of happiness?
We don’t know how to do it because conversations with strangers are cognitively more demanding than conversations with people we know. We feel our awkwardness and insecurities are far more noticeable to strangers than those in our inner circle. And the social norm is to not talk to those around you, because we assume the stranger next to us doesn’t want to talk either.
Contrary to this is how my grandpa navigated life. He had a very innocent perspective on things, found joy and love in the simple pleasures and let curiosity lead the way. It was common for him to notice something, compliment the person or ask them a question – and he was always so genuine and sincere, it never crossed his mind that the receiving person would think negatively about the interaction. And he was right.
What my grandpa learned way earlier in life than me is talking to strangers helps us become happier, more connected, more trusting, and less lonely.
Everyone is interesting, but it’s not up to them to show you – it’s up to you to discover it.
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