Let's make small talk cool again

Dogs sniff each other’s butts. We make small talk.

“I’ll have one of everything, am I right?!”

The older woman next to me in line had just flashed a warm smile my way, imploring me to join her in lamenting the beautiful overwhelm of the shimmering pastry display in front of us.

I obliged. It was, no doubt, a glorious display. Dark chocolate mousse, lemon tarts, mini raspberry cheesecakes: sugary goodness galore. The girl next to the woman chimed in too; they appeared to be related. Soon I learned they were visiting from Charlotte for a mother-daughter trip, in anticipation of the daughter’s birthday next week (how cute). They found out I was a local and asked which of the myriad pastries I’d recommend. I sheepishly admitted I’m a frequent-admirer, but have only ever tried one of them; I’m more of a latte girl lately. We all chuckled.

Next thing you know, the woman at the cashier was asking me what I wanted to order, and ummmmm was the best answer I had. I had gotten so immersed in chatting with my new line buddies that I hadn’t noticed the time — or the line — fly by. I ended up panic-ordering the wrong thing (oops).

Okay, so. Small talk.

Those two dreaded words.

Almost as dreaded as the small talk itself.

What’s the deal with small talk? Why is it even a thing? Why’s it gotta be evvvvverywhere? Why can’t we just jump into the medium and big and actually meaningful talk already?

Why are we wasting our lives discussing how pretty the leaves are right now, how the traffic on I-95 keeps getting worse, or how much we hate small talk (meta, much)?!

I mean, people with real substance don’t bother with surface-level conversations…Right?

This was me a couple of years ago.

And yet, here I was now, gladly — maybe even eagerly? — participating in the grand gesture of it all: talking to two strangers about raspberry cheesecakes and cherry almond scones. Not only participating, but reveling in it. Beaming all the while.

I don’t remember exactly when the shift happened, or why for that matter, but I’ve been shit-talking-about-small-talking sober for a while now. I’m a card-carrying convert at this point, an avid fan.

And the truth is, my life has been all the better for it.

It turns out small talk’s got so much value to offer us when we honor its place in the world. Has it become cool to hate on, trendy to eyeroll at? Sure. But what if we could reverse the trend?

I’d love to see us stop needlessly bemoaning small talk and start giving it the credit it deserves. (For the record, I feel the same way about Nickelback, but that’s a hot take for another day.)

Dogs sniff each other’s butts. We make small talk.

Small talk is our hyper-efficient (even if not always 100% effective) threat detection system. It’s how we try to quickly vibe check each other, establish rapport, and assess someone’s openness (or lack thereof).

It helps us see if there might be the potential for connection.

When Penny the feisty Teacup Yorkie and Poppy the glorious, Lassie-looking Collie — two of my favorite dogs in the neighborhood — greet each other, they have no shame getting all up close and personal, noses next to derrières. It’s just a ritual for them, and one that happens to give them some important intel on present company.

They partake not just willingly, but welcomingly.

Can you imagine if our cute little canine friends instead got outraged every time another dog tried to get back there and do its thing? (Something tells me those dogs wouldn’t have nearly as much luck getting playdates at the dog park.)

We humans aren’t so different. Seemingly “idle” chit-chat helps us co-regulate our nervous systems in the presence of others. It’s the proverbial butt-sniff, just slightly more polite.

If a little small talk feels deeply uncomfortable, or incredibly effortful, it could be a sign that we’re out of sync and not interested in connecting with our fellow small talker. And there’s nothing wrong with that! In those instances, maybe retreating is the right move. Small talk done right is rich with signal; it’s time we tuned in.

Small talk is the gateway drug into some of our closest, most cherished relationships.

If you look around and take stock of the people you’re closest with — outside of family, since usually we get a small-talk-free ticket into our parents’/siblings’/relatives’ lives — I’ll bet you my next three pistachio lattes that a good chunk of them started with some form of small talk.

Maybe you borrowed a pencil from someone (remember back when pencils were a thing?) sitting next to you in class in grade school, and that started up a conversation — eventually progressing you into bestie status. Maybe a stranger in a random hotel lobby complimented your earrings as you passed, and now you can’t imagine not inviting them to your [entirely-hypothetical-at-present] wedding. (True story btw.) Maybe your first conversation with the person who’s now the love of your life started with a quick exchange about something decidedly not that important.

It’s no secret that trust is built gradually, usually over the course of many repeated interactions. And there are few better playgrounds for building trust and camaraderie than small talk; we get to know each other one quip, one question, one “trivial” comment at a time.

We progressively raise the stakes as our comfort levels increase. What started as a “wow, the lines here are really long, huh?” sometimes even turns into a “wanna go to Lisbon together for a week?” in due time.

Small talk is how we microdose friendship.

…But it doesn’t have to lead to a close bond.

Are that mother-daughter duo and I going to run into each other again and become fast friends? Almost certainly not (though I’d welcome the opportunity — they seemed incredibly sweet).

But here’s the thing: Not every connection has to become close. Not every interaction has to graduate to the next rung of relational intimacy. Closeness isn’t always the goal.

I remember I used to feel like a friendly interaction was only a “success” if it ended in an exchange of contact info, a commitment to hang out, or ideally an actual follow-up interaction. I’d swap numbers with cool people I met on trains and airplanes, thinking that was the right move — only to never speak to them again.

But over time, I’ve come to appreciate — and enjoy, even — the fleetingness of some of these lovely encounters.

Even though my interaction with those women from North Carolina probably ended in that line, I’m still so glad we talked. Our chat was brief but overflowing with good vibes, and it made my day. Sometimes pleasantries about pastries mixed with genuine feelings of goodwill are enough.

When all is said and done, small talk serves a necessary and important function: it’s a social lubricant (that’s much cheaper and healthier than booze).

It’s a journey to find common ground, an attempt to make another person feel seen and acknowledged rather than simply ignored. It’s a reminder that, despite all our differences and imperfect assumptions and incomplete information about one another, we still share more than we think — starting with the same skies (isn’t that all weather talk really is?). Oh and maybe heart eyes for delectable-looking treats.

Small talk doesn’t have to lead to something “meaningful” to matter. The meaning is in the medium. Sometimes it helps us connect with others; sometimes it just helps us pass the time! And besides, weak tie connections are hella good for our health.

Ultimately, small talk is simply a dance, a passing-of-the-ball. Being “good” is far less important than leading and following, keeping the ball in the air. It’s less about the content, more about the exchange. The weather outside is not what’s on trial; it’s your willingness to talk about it that is.

If we accept the fact that small talk is a feature and not a bug, it actually becomes an invaluable tool in our search for belonging. 

Whether it’s just a momentary reminder that we exist in relation to others, a distraction from an otherwise-shitty day, or the beginnings of the world’s next best bromance, it matters.

My exchange with the adorable mother-daughter pair was technically nothing big or exciting. But it was the perfect way to express a quick “hey, I don’t know you but you seem safe and friendly and cool” without actually having to say any of that out loud. We felt like acknowledging each other and connecting, so we did. Our interaction was like a head nod with words.

Talking to these lovely ladies in line made the wait go by faster, made my mood less meh, and made me feel connected to strangers — even if just for a few brief moments.

It made my world feel a little smaller, my shared context a little cozier. And all for the price of…a little casual chit-chat? (Okay fine, and accidentally ordering the wrong thing.) Is that really so bad?

Small talk represents people’s desire to connect, if nothing else. And I find that so beautiful. So get in losers (that includes you, Vidhika of yesteryear) — we’re making small talk cool again.