WW 18: How to Make Small Talk
I hate small talk. I hate small talk so much that in our household division of labor, "small talk" has been officially assigned to my husband. New neighbor rings the doorbell? Burr, you're up. Folks looking to commiserate while waiting in line? One glance from me tells him to handle it. Chatty rideshare driver? Truly, that is Burr's time to shine.
The thing is, my husband doesn't like small talk either. He just hates it less than I do. And he's got a genial demeanor; people like talking to him. I have Resting City Face, which I have carefully supplemented with the ability to shoot laser beams out of my eyes. This combination is about 70% effective at keeping strangers at bay; alas, I am a woman in the world so men are particularly intent on getting my attention when it's clear that I do not want to engage with them.
There's just one problem: The Land of Enchantment is also The Land of Small Talk. New Mexicans are immune to Resting City Face. They want to chat all the time. After about six years of living here, my aversion to pleasantries made me feel like a jerk. So, I've been on a gradual campaign to reframe my thinking about small talk.
Have I learned to love talking to strangers about nothing? Wonder along to find out.
The Small Idea: Small Talk Isn't Small - It's How We Build Shared Reality
What if talking about nothing in particular is how we learn whether it's safe to talk about everything that matters?
|
|
Nancy Martira
Clew Strategy
|
Organizational psychologist Adam Grant has built a brand position around making us rethink our assumptions about work, success, and human behavior. One of his signature provocations: skip the small talk and go straight to "big talk." Instead of asking "How are you?" or commenting on the weather, Grant suggests opening conversations with deeper questions: What's your proudest accomplishment? What goal are you pursuing? What idea has intrigued you lately?
Now, this is more my style. Small talk is superficial. Life is short. Why waste time on pleasantries when we could be forming real connections? And yet, when you’re standing around a coffee shop and someone turns to you and says, “Can you believe they’re getting seven bucks for a coffee now?” even *I* realize that it’s insane to come back with, “I know, right? So, what has been your deepest regret in life?”
There’s got to be some middle ground, somewhere.
In a conversation with Simon Sinek on the A Bit of Optimism podcast, Sinek mentions that Trevor Noah isn't really a small talk guy—their conversations always go deep immediately. But I dialed in when Noah pushed back. He's actually a "huge fan of small talk," and here's why:
"We don't realize that small talk is what connects us as people and big talk is what separates us. So if you have the foundation of a lot of small talk, you find similarities, you exist in the same realities. But then if you only have big talk, then it's like large ideas ... So when you go, 'Man, the weather,' the other person goes like, 'Yeah, I can't believe how beautiful it is.' And you're like, 'I know.’ … In that moment, it's the craziest thing ever. You have literally created reality that you share, and now it's easier to say, how do you plan to vote?"
I could immediately buy into Noah’s idea that small talk creates shared reality, but I find it harder to swallow the idea that “big talk” divides us. So, I kept exploring.
The Case Against Small Talk
Adam Grant's position makes intuitive sense to a lot of us, especially introverts who find networking events exhausting. Small talk feels like a performance—saying things you don't mean to people you don't know, following a script everyone pretends is spontaneous.
There's research backing up the idea that deeper conversations make us happier. Psychologist Matthias Mehl found that people who had more substantive conversations (as opposed to small talk) reported greater life satisfaction and well-being. His study, published in Psychological Science, tracked participants' conversations throughout the day and found that the happiest people had twice as many substantive conversations and one-third as much small talk as the unhappiest people.
Grant's "big talk" questions are designed to bypass the shallow stuff and get to what actually matters. They're the conversational equivalent of a shortcut—why take the scenic route when you can just... arrive?
But here's where it gets interesting.
"Small talk is not necessary for everybody, but it's crucial when you don't know whether or not you're in the same tribe." - Trevor Noah
The Case for Small Talk (or Why The Scenic Route Matters)
Trevor Noah's insight flips the efficiency argument on its head. What looks like wasted time might actually be essential infrastructure.
Think about it: when you tell someone "the weather has been wild lately" and they agree, you've just established that you're both experiencing the same physical reality. You're in the same place, at the same time, subject to the same conditions. That sounds trivial until you realize how much of modern life involves people who aren't sharing the same reality.
Small talk is how we check: Are we in the same world right now?
Simon Sinek challenged Noah on this, pointing out that their friendship skips small talk entirely. But Noah had a brilliant response: "Small talk is not necessary for everybody, but it's crucial when you don't know whether or not you're in the same tribe."
When Sinek and Noah met, they were introduced by a mutual friend who vouched for both of them. The tribal verification was already done. They could skip ahead because someone else had already built the bridge.
But with strangers? With people whose worldview, values, and intentions are unknown? Small talk is reconnaissance. It's how we figure out if it's safe to go deeper.
What the Science Actually Says
So who's right? Does small talk make us miserable (Mehl) or does it build connection (Noah)?
Turns out: both.
Psychologists Gillian Sandstrom and Elizabeth Dunn studied brief interactions between coffee shop customers and baristas. They found that even minimal social exchanges—a smile, eye contact, a genuine "how are you"—increased feelings of belonging and happiness on both sides. These weren't deep conversations. They were textbook small talk. And they mattered.
But here's the nuance: it's not small talk vs. deep talk. It's forced small talk vs. genuine small talk, and both vs. substantive conversation. When small talk is authentic—when you're actually curious about the answer to "how's your day going?"—it works. When it's performative obligation, it drains us.
The mistake both positions make is treating this as binary. Grant's "big talk" assumes you can skip the foundation and jump straight to intimacy. But Noah's counter-argument reveals that the foundation isn't optional—it's how we establish enough trust to risk going deep.
You can't ask someone about their deepest fear if you haven't first established that you're both standing on solid ground.
When small talk is authentic—when you're actually curious about the answer to "how's your day going?"—it works. When it's a performative obligation, it drains us.
About That "Shared Reality" ...
One of the reasons I hate small talk is because it often feels like people are making assumptions about me. I’m not talking about, “So, how’s your day going,” chitchat with cashiers; I ‘m talking about people who expect me to validate their world view.
During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I went in for a mammogram. It was a time of deep social isolation, and the thought of having an in-person conversation with another human being seemed exciting and novel. I was about as open to small talk as I was ever going to be.
The waiting room was nearly empty, but there was one other woman sitting there filling out her forms. We were within earshot of the receptionist who sat behind a plexiglass divider. I could hear her mumbling to herself, and immediately a red flag went up. Our intake paperwork had two questions about gender identity, including “sex assigned at birth.” This was a source of consternation for the older woman, and as her mumbling to herself grew more direct, trying to engage me.
“What is this,?” she asked a mostly-empty room. “Sex assigned at birth? Gimme a break. This is ridiculous.”
And there it was, my opening to demonstrate a shared reality; my cue to say, “I know, right? First teenagers are demanding litter boxes for public school bathrooms, and now I have to be subjected to these gender delusions before I get a boob smash?”
It made me mad, furious actually, that this woman assumed I was of her “tribe” and that I shared her reality. What I actually said was, “That question seems to be giving you trouble. I’m sure you can leave it blank if you don’t know how to answer it. But it’s an important question for healthcare providers to ask. Get over it.”
[That was an extra painful mammogram, as I anticipated returning to the parking lot to find my car had been keyed. Thankfully, my property was in tact.]
| How Do You Feel About Small Talk? |
|
|
|
|
|
Here are two small experiments to try:
|
|
The Genuine Question
This week, when someone initiates small talk with you—the cashier, the dog walker, the person in the elevator—pause before giving your automatic response. Instead of "fine, you?" ask yourself: Am I actually curious about the answer? If yes, ask a real follow-up question. If the barista says "crazy weather today," try "Have you been able to get outside much this week?" Notice what shifts when you're genuinely interested versus just performing politeness.
The goal isn't to have deep conversations with everyone. It's to practice recognizing the difference between authentic curiosity and social autopilot—and to give yourself permission to choose which one serves the moment.
The Boundary Test
Pay attention this week to moments when someone uses small talk to test for tribal belonging—complaints that seem designed to elicit agreement, observations that assume you share their worldview. Practice responding in a way that maintains your boundaries without escalating. This might look like:
- Redirecting: "I haven't really thought about it that way. How's your [change subject]?"
- Mild disagreement: "Huh, I actually think it's a good question to ask."
- Strategic silence: Sometimes not validating is enough.
The goal isn't to correct strangers or start arguments in waiting rooms. It's to recognize when small talk is being weaponized and to practice not being complicit—even in small ways.
|
The Wonder of Knowing When to Talk Small
Here's what I've come to understand about small talk: it's not inherently shallow or deep, connecting or dividing. It's a tool. And like any tool, its value depends entirely on how you use it.
Authentic small talk—the kind Sandstrom and Dunn studied—builds bridges. When you genuinely ask the barista how their day is going and actually listen to the answer, you're creating a tiny moment of human connection that makes both of you happier. That's not trivial. That's the social infrastructure that keeps us from feeling completely isolated in a world of transactions.
Performative small talk—the networking event script, the obligatory pleasantries—drains us because we're performing connection without actually connecting. It's the worst of both worlds: effort without reward.
But there's a third kind I didn't fully appreciate until that mammogram waiting room: small talk as values in action. When someone uses casual conversation to test whether you'll validate their prejudices, your response—however small—puts your values into the world. "Get over it" won't change anyone's mind about transgender issues, but it signals that this particular stranger won't be finding tribal validation from me today.
The real skill isn't choosing between Grant's "big talk" and Noah's "small talk." It's knowing which mode you're in and whether it's serving you. Sometimes the weather conversation is the depth—because establishing shared reality with a stranger builds the trust that makes everything else possible. Sometimes jumping to "what are you most excited about right now?" creates instant connection with someone ready for it. And sometimes the most meaningful thing you can do is refuse to play along with someone else's script.
I still hate small talk in waiting rooms. But I'm learning to recognize when it's building something versus when it's testing for something versus when it's just... nothing. New Mexico hasn't made me love chitchat with strangers. But it's taught me that choosing how I show up in those moments—genuinely curious, politely distant, or quietly resistant—is itself a form of agency.
Small talk isn't small. It's where we practice being human with each other, one mundane exchange at a time.
The Question
When was the last time small talk surprised you—either by creating unexpected connection or by revealing someone's assumption that you'd validate their worldview? How did you respond, and what did that response reveal about your own values?
Did someone forward you this email? Congratulations! You've got excellent taste in friends. Use the button below to subscribe to Wonder Work. You'll receive the next edition directly in your inbox.
|
|
And now for the Mystery Link!
And now for the Mystery Link! Today we're getting the insider experience. One door leads to a behind the scenes tour of a physical place and one door provides insider knowledge for something we use every day.
So, which will you choose: Door Number One or Door Number Two?
|
|
Work with Nancy and Borrow My Wild Brain
(or buy me a coffee.)
Meet Nancy Martira.
I'm a brand strategist and communications consultant who brings endless curiosity to every project. If you've got a challenge that needs a fresh, unexpected perspective, let's talk!
|
"To invent your own life's meaning is not easy, but it's still allowed, and I think you'll be happier for it."
— Bill Watterson