You know what I'm really beginning to hate? And I mean "hate," with a pathological loathing that makes me wary of it everywhere I go?
Small talk.
Yes, I've grown to hate small talk.
Let me be clear with what I mean by "small talk." Before I define it, let me give a few examples of what I hate:
Example One: I'm running late (for whatever: an appointment, picking the kids up, trying to get the errand flurry from hell over with before 9:00 PM, etc.). I bump into another person who knows, or ought to realize, I'm running late. He then asks a question or otherwise attempts to engage in conversation.
Example Two: I'm concentrating on a work assignment. A co-worker bops in and starts a random conversation.
Example Three: I'm reading on a park bench. A person sits down and asks, "Whatcha reading?" (To which I am always tempted to reply, "Nothing right now. Ten seconds ago I was enjoying . . . ".)
Example Four: I'm working in my garden with my headphones on, listening to a podcast on the French Revolution or a biographical book on tape. Someone happens by and wants to talk.
If you look at these examples, there's a common element: the order of the moment has me engaged in something else. So for purposes of defining what it is exactly I hate, I can say, "random conversation when the order of the moment calls for something else."
A few examples of vocalized exchange I don't hate will help clarify my hatred:
Example One: Exchanging brief pleasantries in a chance greeting, even if I'm in a rush. I have no problem with pleasantries and, in fact, if you don't do it, you're a sonofabitch. But I mean BRIEF pleasantries. You say, "Hi. How's it going?" If you're feeling talkative, you say, "Tell your husband and said 'hi.'" AND THAT'S IT.
Example Two: A co-worker needs to discuss a work issue. So even if I'm concentrating on something else, it's not "small talk" because it's not just random conversation. There's a work issue that needs to be addressed and I'm at work, so even though it might be an unwelcomed distraction, I don't characterize it as small talk, and, therefore, it escapes my pathological hatred.
Example Three: I'm at the bar and my friend is talking to me about whatever the hell pops up. This is random conversation, to be sure, but I'm at the freakin' bar. The order of the moment calls for random conversation, so even though a person might label it "small talk," it's not the kind of small talk that I dislike. And, in fact, good conversation is a great good (Richard Weaver called it one of the "small arts"). The person who can do it well is a grace to mankind.
Example Four: I'm reading in the family room and one of my children sit down and start talking to me. Yes, I'm reading, but if it were serious study, I'd be in my study. When I'm in the family room, I am purposefully leaving myself open to such distractions.
So why my pathological hatred for small talk? I think it's primary just self-centeredness: I'm focused on something else, or I need to do something else, and now I'm going to be detained against my will for no apparent reason, other than the other person likes to talk.
I'm not going to apologize for such self-centeredness, though. As Theresa Avila pointed out, talkativeness is a serious form of self-centeredness as well. If I want to keep to myself, it's a form of self-centeredness that doesn't hurt anybody else. The talkative person, on the other hand, is constantly afflicting his self-centeredness on the unwilling, and I simply find it, at a minimum, annoying, and oftentimes find it downright oppressive.
There's probably a lot more that could be said about small talk, but this is a blog post and it has dragged on long enough already. I would only ask that, if you're the garrulous type, please be aware that there are people like me out there. We don't want to be rude, and we don't dislike you, but we don't like talk for talk's sake . . . and sure as hell don't like it when it's pulling us from something else.
