Margin Notes: Small Talk

A few weeks ago, I had a string of awkward hellos — at least, I thought so. First, I walk past a boy who works on the student newspaper with me. We wave and trade “how are yous.” I respond, “Good,” but he says, “Oh, you know, fine,” an answer that perhaps suggests something more is going on. He’s looking at me, as if waiting for me to say something more, but we’re about to pass each other and I feel uncomfortable asking more about his life. Instead, I smile and blush.

Ten minutes later, I’m in my English professor’s office to discuss an essay.

“What a nice day out,” he says, looking out the window then turning back to me. I later learn he said the exact same line at the beginning of his meetings with two of my classmates.

“Yes,” I say. I smile and nod my head, hoping this is expressive enough. Is he going to bring up the essay or should I?

“We won’t get too many days like this,” he says.

“I know,” I say. Why can’t I think of any anecdote to share right now? A few seconds pass.

“Okay, well, your paper,” my professor says. Our social interaction is over.

There are countless opportunities for small talk each day: the people who live below you, the people who work with you, the people who wait in lines with you. Most days, it’s easy to find something universal: the weather, sports, holidays, upcoming exams. Other days (i.e. the day after the presidential election), small talk might best be postponed. Overall, however, no matter how insignificant small talk seems each day, these minute interactions so greatly influence how we feel the rest of the day — and about our lives in general.

My parents say they love visiting my college in Maine because they feel that people are friendlier there. People wave, or at least nod and smile, if you pass them on the quad. They open doors for you. They let you reach for the bacon bits first at the salad bar. They make this school a welcoming place and, in turn, perhaps make themselves happier.

According to the Atlantic, one study revealed that people who smiled, held eye contact, and chatted briefly with their Starbucks barista felt more connected to their surroundings. The Wall Street Journal analyzed a study that also concluded that the more interactions with acquaintances, the happier people were. Forbes detailed a study that even concluded “10 minutes getting to know someone was equivalent to [the mental benefits of] solving crossword puzzles.”

With all these benefits, why is small talk something we still complain about or perhaps even have difficulty with? Why did I feel so awkward moving past small talk with a classmate or even engaging in small talk with my professor that day? The surface level of these conversations perhaps leaves us not only feeling fake, but also wanting more. One study found, unsurprisingly, that college students who had more “substantial” conversations were happier than other students. But for those of us still snowed-in to talking about the weather, how do we get to these “substantial” conversations?

In my own conversations, I’ve found that some of the things we feel most deeply about can become small talk. Classmates and I comment on how “weird” it is we’re juniors and have less than two years before graduation. “Weird” substitutes for our sincere emotions — worry, insecurity, hopefulness — that we don’t want to say quite so cavalierly on the way to class. We gripe about how “strange” and often underwhelming the college dating or social scene is, commiserating in vague terms and replacing our emotions with easy laughs. The commonality of these topics (graduation and dating) makes them safe; the underlying significance of these topics (identity, time, love) makes them full of depth. Yet, still, we skate along pre-made circles of a frozen lake, waiting for someone to be brave or curious enough to break the ice and reveal what is below.

Perhaps sometimes we must be the brave ones and share something personal. Other times, we must be the curious ones, prodding our companion with the interest we would like someone to show us. Worst-case scenario: an uncomfortable conversation (this is good practice, I suppose). Best-case scenario: a new friend.

After my awkward interactions a few weeks ago, I immediately texted my best friend: “I need to not go out in public. When will I grow out of this?”

She tells me we should take a class on learning to be less awkward. I’d happily take a class — not because I believe it will make me any more graceful, but simply for something new to laugh about with my friend, someone with whom any conversation, small or big, feels real.

Rachael Allen is a junior at Bowdoin College and a lifelong Canton resident. The recipient of several writing awards, she currently serves as the managing editor for Bowdoin’s student newspaper, the Orient.

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Posted by Rachael Allen on Dec 9 2016. Filed under Featured Content, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.