Small talk must be the biggest misapplication of language. Inauthentic chitter chatter to fill the silence truly annoys me. I have zero tolerance for mind numbing talk about the weather or food. Small talk scores equally as high as having to look at someone’s holiday photos. I lack empathy and interest. I refuse to be hostage of small talk.
The worst offenders of pseudo talk can be found in supermarket queues and on public transport. What is meant to be polite conversation about irrelevant topics makes my blood boil. No, I don’t want to share how my day was. No, I am not interested in what you will be cooking tonight. No, I do not care where you are going. I just want to be. Here. Undisturbed.
I have no urge to indulge in a Petri dish of linguistic and emotional nothingness. When conversation is meaningful and about politics, human rights, sex, puppies or a revolution, please count me in. Small talk?! Forget it! It’s not that I lack small talk skills. I simply hate it. My selfish gene does not care about someone’s momentary thought. Hm, let me overthink this …