Dabble in some Babble

Barring the odd Kings and Queens of small talk, most of us fall into the latter category of people who are anything but adept at small talk.

There are the hugely-annoying sorts too though, who sniff you out, and then starts the barrage of queries, much to your chagrin. So Ms Nosy Parker sails into a lift, drowning you in a sea of cheap perfume – your ears are subsequently assailed by the volley of questions that she throws – thankfully not at you, but at the unfortunate colleague, who suddenly goes from atheist to a believer – never before has he probably sent up a prayer. But this time he does, crinkling his eyebrows, hoping that the lift would whoosh to the top floor.

Not really his lucky day – he has to answer several questions in the course of that interminable 3-minute elevator ride. By the end of it all, when the doors finally open, giving him some much-needed air, his co-passengers have all had their fill of gossip and dope about him, including a very very embarrassing personal problem that he would rather have remained an untouched-upon topic.

The others fall into that glorious classification of people who struggle to bring up ‘safe’ topics to discuss with people whom you’d term anything between acquaintances and friends of friends. Weather is probably the first dwelled-upon area, followed by what’s happening around the world or on the idiot box. The world of sports is the second runner-up, which politico put his foot into his mouth (yet again), followed closely by most people’s personal favorites (mine excluded) – ‘the country is going to the dogs’ dialogue. And mind you, a mighty animated debate follows.

I like to call myself a lousy conversationalist. Put me in a party, and chances are that I might smile fixedly at a few people, nod in acknowledgement at those who I recollect faintly, down a couple, and then head for the nearest exit. I understand that it is rude to not converse with others, but I’d rather disappear than make a polite effort to know about the other’s migraine, job, hobbies, family, or jilted love story.

Give me some good music, throw in a couple of ‘spirits,’ and I’m good.

No chattiness for me. Sometimes silence just is golden.

Amen!