My wife, Sue, can talk to anyone.
I’ve watched her strike up conversations with complete strangers—my umpire friends, their spouses, folks from the boards I sit on—and within two minutes, they’re smiling, laughing, and opening up about something real. She’s not just good at it. She’s present. Genuinely interested. There’s no performance. Just connection.
Me?
I almost always feel like I have nothing to say. If I can’t tell where the conversation is going, my brain starts drifting. I lose interest—not just in the topic, but often in the person. That’s hard for me to admit, but it’s true.
My mind is wired to look for patterns, for meaning, for direction, for efficiencies, for shortcuts. But most conversations—especially the ones that matter—don’t hand that over right away or ever. That’s not the intent of small talk. They meander. They warm up. They test the water.
Here’s what I’m still learning: Connection doesn’t begin with clarity. It begins with presence. When we don’t know where something is going, that’s not meaningless. That’s human.
In leadership, we want people to trust us, open up, be honest. But if we can’t be present in the slow moments—the ones without strategy or takeaways—why would anyone trust us with the real stuff?
The Truth Behind the Eye Roll
When you catch yourself checking out during small talk, it’s easy to dismiss it as meaningless.
But pause and ask yourself:
- Is it really the content that bothers me?
- Or is it the discomfort of not knowing where the conversation is going?
- The awkwardness of not having anything insightful to say?
- The sense that this moment isn’t productive enough to matter?
Most of the time, small talk isn’t the problem. It’s the discomfort that comes with slowing down.
We’re used to being in control. We’re used to adding value. We’re used to sounding sharp and having a point.
But that’s not what these moments are for.
Because small talk isn’t about information. It’s about access.
It’s the warm-up before someone trusts you with the real stuff. It’s the space where people learn whether you’re safe, or just smart. It’s where presence gets practiced—not performed.
Leadership Isn’t Always Deep. But It Must Be Available.
Some of the best conversations I’ve had with team members didn’t start with purpose. They started with passing moments—how someone’s kid was doing in soccer, or what they were binge-watching, or why they looked more tired than usual.
And if I’d have dismissed that moment as “fluff,” I would’ve missed the doorway into the conversation that truly mattered.
Here’s what I’ve learned coaching executives who struggle with this: If you only show up when it’s strategic, you’re training people to hide anything that doesn’t fit your agenda.
But if you can show up when it’s unpolished, when it’s inconvenient, when it’s not about you—then people will follow you into the real stuff. Because they’ll know you’re not just there to get something done. You’re there to connect.
People don’t decide you’re trustworthy during the big strategic conversations. They decide during the moments when you have nothing to gain—when there’s no agenda, no outcome to manage. That’s when they see who you really are.
The Practice
Next time you’re tempted to check out of a surface conversation:
Pause. Stay in it just 10 seconds longer. Ask your mind for a better question:
About them: “What’s this person actually saying underneath the words?” or “What do they need right now—to be heard, understood, or just acknowledged?”
About me: “Am I able to stay focused and present, or should we reschedule when I’m not distracted?”
About us: “What am I missing by trying to rush this moment between us?”
There’s nothing you need to do. Just be.
Because if we can’t stay present in the small things, what makes us think we’re ready for the depth we say we want?
The version of yourself that leads with even deeper impact? It’s not the one with all the answers. It’s the one who can be fully present even when there’s no clear destination.
P.S. My sincere apologies to those of you with whom I allowed my brain to check out of our conversation. Please know I’m working on this, and I’d welcome another opportunity to stay present with you—with no agenda and no rush.
What about you? Have you noticed yourself checking out during “meaningless” conversations? What would change if you stayed present for 10 seconds longer?
