The Smalltalk Epidemic

And how you can vaccinate yourself


There are more than a few reasons why I enjoy working from home, and not just because of the proximity to my bed.  There's no commute, which means I don't have to suffer bodily injury and panic attacks while sandwiched uncomfortably between a religious zealot who doesn't believe in showers, Old Country Buffet's Customer of the Century, and Fortysomething-Guy-Who-Still-Overstuffs-His-Jansport.  There's my departmental assistant, who clears his throat and goes "AAHHHHH!!!!" every time he takes a sip of whatever beverage is handy, constantly interrupts his superiors to spout nonsensical bullshit, and is a specific breed of schmoozy, tampon-stuck-up-his-ass douchebag that thinks a jazzy dance accompanied by a thumbs-up validates his "friendship" with everyone else in my office.  There's the guy next to me who is definitely hard of hearing in at least one of his ears and speaks about 15 decibels louder than what's generally considered to be audible.  There's the gossipy office manager who looks like Luis Guzman and truly believes he is privy to everyone else's goings-on, public or not.  There is, of course, my phobia of eavesdroppers when I talk to anyone on the phone, personal or business-related, and my anxiety that they are silently snickering at me from their adjacent cubicles.  There's the fact that I simply happen to be more productive when I'm in an environment in which I feel comfortable.

All of these rationales aside, which may seem like deterrents enough, the number-one reason I prefer to shorten my commute from Lincoln Park-Loop to Bedroom-Living Room, and it's not the 3:30 airing of Jeopardy!, although that's close to the top; the primary impetus for avoiding at all costs the offices of Nameless Corporation, is this:

I FUCKING HATE SMALLTALK!

I think it's really unfair that just because I am thirsty and a slave to caffeine, just because my glass of water is empty, that I have to sit there with some asshole with whom I'd never interact outside the confines of this glass prison and pontificate about the finer points of Trader Joe's hummus versus Whole Foods hummus.  I don't like your hideous sweater.  In fact, I hate your hideous appliqued sweater.  And I know you don't like my boots (even though they're awesome).  So why are we exchanging pleasantries outside the door while fumbling for our keycards (for the record, it would be a lot easier to find the damn thing if I didn't have to glance bashfully down at my [awesome] boots and force out, "Oh, thanks, I got them at the Nordstrom Semi-Annual Sale! On SALE!").  When weighing the options over for attending the company holiday party, I constructed a traditional pro/con list as follows:

PROS:

-Free Food

-Free Booze

-Possibility of making some work friends/casual sex with one of 3 decent looking coworkers

CONS:

-Gabbing/chitchatting/shooting the shit about the weather/sports/"what your holiday traditions are"/favorite moronic cupcakery in the city with a gaggle of tools. On a trolley.

Enough said.  I RSVP'ed with my regrets, saying that I had a root canal, a colonoscopy, and my grandmother's corns to massage that night instead.

For instance, at this very moment I'm listening to 2 coworkers small-talking about basketball.  One of them is clearly both passionate and knowledgeable about the sport, both college and pro, and is enjoying flexing his considerable breadth of expertise.  The other one knows absolutely nothing about either, and is nodding and blinking like a slackjawed, slightly retarded basset hound, occasionally chiming in his assent with an "uh-huh" or a "definitely", or even an "I know, man! It's amazing."  He clearly could not care less.

Unfortunately for that guy, he doesn't possess the mental acuity I do when it comes to avoiding small talk.  Here, a couple of tips for the less erudite:

1. Keep your head down and stay out of sight.  If no one can see you, then no one will talk to you.

2. When forced to engage in small talk, use monosyllabic answers, shrug nonchalantly, giggle awkwardly, and turn your back.

3. Keep your headphones on AT ALL TIMES.

4. Swear.  It makes people uncomfortable and they will want to speak to you less.

5. If all else fails and you can't avoid having a pointless conversation about cashmere socks, just suck it up, tell them you like the ones from Neiman's the best, and go about your day.  Because like a yeast infection, smalltalk is awkward, uncomfortable, and distasteful, but it won't actually kill you.

Basketball Diaries

You can get a Triple Double in real life, too! Here's how:

1. Points:  The amount of times you score.  Does this mean sexual partners, meaningful relationships, dates, etc? Whatever constitutes a field goal for you, think about the following:
  -What's your percentage of completion?  How many times do you try to score and actually make it?  Are you shooting wildly, blindly, and just hoping it goes in or are you making a few calculated and usually successful attempts?  Be like Mike.  Think before you shoot.
  - What is your degree of difficulty? Are these 3-point shots, lay-ups, dunks, or undefended free throws?  The analogy speaks for itself here and shouldn't require any further explanation, but for all you dolts out there, think of it this way:  would you rather have a meaningless one night stand with the stand-in from Eric Stoltz's acclaimed film Mask or a few fun dates with the Josh Duhamel look-alike from the bowling alley?  I leave it to you.

2. Rebounds:  We take a quick departure from the more literal "Points" section above to tackle the tricky issue of the rebound.  A rebound is what/who you do after the end of a relationship.  Less of an actual skill in the game of life and love, rebounding is more like an arcade pinball game than the calculated sport of basketball, although it's usually marked by some pretty aggressive behavior in the paint - people on the rebound are definitely out for the win.  We've all been there: feeling rejected and scorned, we're thrown off the bench and into a tough matchup with an impressive and completely foreign opponent: singledom.  We barely know the rules, let alone possess the skills needed to come out victorious.  If you're anything like me, there are going to be a few errors before your efforts will be rewarded with some points.  You may commit a few minor technical fouls, such as over-texting or drunk dialing; you may even rack up some more serious personal fouls (sleeping with this new prospect too soon, divulging too much info about your failed relationship, or projecting a massive future onto this relative stranger and scaring him or her into total oblivion), but fear not.  Reacquaint yourself with the rules, and always remember to practice, practice, practice. Surround yourself with a patient coaching staff and supportive teammates. You'll be a pro in no time (fingers crossed).

3. Assists: Are you more Steve Nash or Lebron James?  As in, are you a team player?  How effective of a wingman/woman are you?  Life isn't all about the breakaway dunks; sometimes there's as much pleasure to be had getting your point guard some glory.  And remember this: if you help out your teammates, they'll feel more compelled to return the favor and get you to the basket.

This may not even come close to the "One Inch" speech in Any Given Sunday (I know, that's football, not basketball, but it's my favorite sports movie lockerroom scene), but I hope I've inspired some of you to suit up and get in the game.