The trick is never to be person number 2 on the video call. If you’re person number 2 the pressure is always on you to provide the small talk.
“Hi!” says the host, who has been twiddling their thumbs alone in the virtual meeting room for the past couple of minutes. “What’s new?”
The problem is, nothing’s new. I’ve not left the house for days. My agenda is: sleep; wake up; and one of a) work or b) feed, clothe and entertain an energetic and very vocal 2-year-old (the two tasks are very much mutually exclusive). The rest of my time is spent sitting on the sofa trying to recuperate and avoiding tuning into whatever apocalyptic news update is on Radio 4.
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The trick is never to be person number 2 on the video call. If you’re person number 2 the pressure is always on you to provide the small talk.
“Hi!” says the host, who has been twiddling their thumbs alone in the virtual meeting room for the past couple of minutes. “What’s new?”
The problem is, nothing’s new. I’ve not left the house for days. My agenda is: sleep; wake up; and one of a) work or b) feed, clothe and entertain an energetic and very vocal 2-year-old (the two tasks are very much mutually exclusive). The rest of my time is spent sitting on the sofa trying to recuperate and avoiding tuning into whatever apocalyptic news update is on Radio 4.
“I’ve barely read a book for months. Going to the cinema seems like a wild fantasy from a past life. My bi-weekly treat has been taking my son to watch the trains going past at our local station. At 16.18 you’d see two at once – each one going in either direction.”
I’ve barely read a book for months. Going to the cinema seems like a wild fantasy from a past life. My bi-weekly treat (during proper lockdown) was to take my son to watch the trains going past at our local station. At 16.18 you’d see two at once – each one going in either direction.
“Oh you know,” I say on the call, “not much.” We look at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Person number 3 joins the call and finally we can get going with the meeting.
But it’s not true that nothing’s new. The thing about small talk, you see, is that it isn’t small at all. Really, it’s the big stuff. Because when someone asks you “what’s new?” or “how’s it going?” your brain goes to the big things that are worrying you: the argument you had with your partner last night, the family illness, the vague but constant concerns you have about your job.
“The thing about small talk, you see, is that it isn’t small at all. Really, it’s the big stuff. Because when someone asks you “what’s new?” or “how’s it going?” your brain goes to the big things that are worrying you.”
Equally it goes to the big things that make you happy: the sunrise you saw this morning, the feeling you had when you lay on the lawn and listened to the bees and birdsong. The make-up hug from your partner.
Normal small-talk etiquette is that you avoid these subjects and talk about football matches, art exhibitions or the latest office gossip. But in the absence of subjects like this you have one of two choices:
There’s only one real option.
“Yeah, not much at all really,” I say.
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