Sep 2

Sep 2 One simple way to get the most out of small talk

The older I get the less I enjoy small talk. The sort of, usually fleeting conversation you have at a party or an event, with someone you’ve either just been introduced to, or don’t know all that well. You know the kind - they start with “good to meet, or see, you” then lurch onwards as you try to find common ground or interest. Or they progress with a perfectly pleasant update of family members and shared acquaintances. Occasionally they’ll flourish into something memorably meaningful or illuminating or entertaining, but more often than not they’ll settle in the shallows of ‘nice-but-forgettable’.

I realise that makes me sound like a grumpy party-pooper and I don’t mean it to. I love meeting new people and the possibility that an encounter could result in a new friend being introduced into my life. And I love it when an exchange reveals a shared enthusiasm, or I’ve learnt something new, or had a good laugh (even better if it’s all three). But increasingly the effort of getting to that point, or failing to, runs down my social battery to such an extent I wonder if it’s worth it.

At the second of the two weddings I was lucky enough to be invited to this summer (both fabulous occasions, both involving a lot of small talk), I witnessed a woman doing something that might just change my approach to, and feelings about, small talk forever. She’s someone I’ve known for a while, but wouldn’t say I know well enough to call her a friend, although I’d be happy to given the chance.

At some point during each encounter, either right at the start or further on in the conversation, she asked the person she was talking to the same, incredibly simple question. A question that almost unfailingly appeared to trigger the kind of animated response that leads to the kind of buzzy conversation which makes small talk so much more interesting and rewarding. And the question?

Tell me all about you.

The implied interest and enthusiasm in those five words is astonishingly flattering. This person doesn’t just want to know the bare bones about me, she wants it all. She’s not just peaking round the door to our conversation, she’s flinging it wide open. She isn’t politely asking about what I do, or where I live, or if I like the canapes. She wants to hear what I have to say about myself.

But she’s also simultaneously handing the control over what and how much I choose to reveal, to me. I don’t have to share or tell her anything I don’t want to. I can select the things about me I’m most enthusiastic about, or proud of, or fired up by. The stuff I actually enjoy talking about.

And whaddyouknow, it works.

It works whether it’s said to someone you’ve just met, someone who’s a passing acquaintance, or someone who you know but not all that well.

I know this, not just because I witnessed it in action with the guests of all ages and genders I heard her talking to, but because it worked equally well when she said it to me. And I very much hope she enjoyed the resulting lengthy, lively conversation we shared about our involvement with, and interest in, social support charity work, as much as I did (it was less worthy than that sounds, honestly).

Give it a go next time you’re presented with the opportunity - because that’s how this has made me see it - to dive into some small talk. I certainly plan to.