🟠 Why People Struggle With Small Talk

Fixing broken conversations in life, leadership & tech.

Author

Eva Karnaukh
June 29, 2025

The Social Code

Media & Network for Future-State Leaders

The quieter you become, the more you're able to hear, but only if you're listening for the right things."

Real Talk | The PhD Who Couldn't Talk to Her Uber Driver

Three weeks ago, I was in the back of an Uber with Dr. Lisa Chen, brilliant neuroscientist, speaker, woman who can explain quantum consciousness to Nobel laureates.

The ride started in perfect silence.

Our driver, Miguel, tried twice: "Beautiful day, isn't it?" and "Traffic's lighter than usual."

Lisa gave polite one-word responses. Then buried herself in her phone.

I watched her discomfort. The way she gripped her device like a shield. The slight tension in her shoulders.

Here's what I realized: Lisa wasn't being rude. She was terrified.

After we got out, she confessed: "I never know what to say to 'regular' people. I'm afraid I'll sound condescending or awkward."

This brilliant woman, who commands respect in boardrooms, felt powerless in a casual conversation with a stranger.

The tragedy? Miguel had just finished telling another passenger about his engineering degree from Colombia. His night job driving to support his family while building a startup.

Lisa missed connecting with someone who might have been her intellectual equal, because she was trapped in her own expertise.

What I've learned from twenty years of being the "smart girl" in rooms.

Intelligence creates distance when it should create connection.

We overthink the simplest interactions:

  • "Should I mention I have three degrees?"

  • "Will they think I'm showing off if I use this word?"

  • "What if they don't understand my reference?"

Meanwhile, the person next to us is just hoping someone will notice their new haircut.

The shift that changed everything for me:

I stopped trying to find the "smart" thing to say. I started looking for the human thing to notice.

Try this approach: Before your next casual conversation, ask yourself:

"What would I be curious about if intelligence wasn't part of this equation?"

Their story becomes more interesting than your status.

AI Literacy Micro-Lesson | Why Small Talk Is Humanity's Last Stand

Here's something that keeps me up at night as I build AI voice technology:

Artificial intelligence is getting scary good at deep conversations.

My latest voice agents can discuss philosophy, analyze complex problems, even provide therapy-level emotional support.

But ask them about the weird smell in the elevator? They're lost.

Here's why:

AI excels at information exchange. It can process vast knowledge and deliver relevant insights.

But small talk isn't about information. It's about energy exchange.

When you comment on someone's coffee choice, you're not seeking caffeine data. You're saying: "I see you. I'm present with you. We share this moment."

The deeper insight:

As AI handles more analytical conversations, casual human connection becomes our most valuable skill.

Think about it:

  • AI can give better medical advice than most doctors

  • AI can solve complex business problems faster than consultants

  • AI can even write poetry that makes people cry

But AI cannot:

  • Share a knowing look when the meeting runs long

  • Laugh about the absurdity of airport security lines

  • Create that warm feeling when someone remembers your coffee order

What this means for smart people:

Your ability to connect over seemingly "trivial" moments isn't a distraction from your intelligence.

It's proof of your humanity.

The competitive advantage: While everyone else is trying to be as smart as AI, master the art of being beautifully, imperfectly human.

Start with the small stuff. The weather comment. The shared experience. The moment of recognition.

These "meaningless" exchanges might be the most meaningful skill you develop.

Tools for Transformation | The "Observation Gateway" Technique

Want to know my secret for turning any awkward silence into genuine connection?

I learned to see the world like my horses do.

In natural horsemanship, you read everything: ear position, breathing patterns, weight shifts. Horses communicate constantly, just not with words.

Humans do the same thing.

Instead of searching for the perfect thing to say, notice one specific thing and share your observation.

What you observe → What you say:

  • They're typing intensely → "Looks like you're in problem, solving mode."

  • They chose the corner seat → "Good call on the quiet spot, it's crazy busy today."

  • They're drinking tea instead of coffee → "Tea person in a coffee world, I respect that."

  • They seem relaxed → "You have this calm energy, did something good happen?"

Not like this: ❌ "How's your day going?" (Generic, requires them to perform)

But like this: ✅ "You look like you're really focused on something." (Specific, shows you're paying attention)

People want to be seen, not interrogated.

When you share what you genuinely notice, you're offering a gift: "You matter enough for me to pay attention."

Advanced version: Add a gentle question

  • "You seem excited about something, want to share?"

  • "That looks like a fascinating book, what drew you to it?"

  • "You handled that difficult customer really well, where did you learn that patience?"

The magic ingredient: Specificity

General observations feel like small talk. Specific observations feel like care. So, at least once a day, share one specific thing you notice about someone. Not their appearance ("Nice shirt") but their energy, their choice, their way of being.

I tried this with the barista at my regular coffee shop. Instead of just ordering, I said: "You always remember everyone's names, that's a gift."

She lit up. Told me about her memory techniques. Turned my 2-minute transaction into a genuine moment.

The lesson: Everyone has a story. Your observation might be the key that unlocks it.

Closing: "One Final Thought"

I've been thinking about something my daughter said last week.

She was frustrated because kids at school call her "the smart one", like it's a box that contains all of who she is.

"Mom, I'm not just smart. I'm funny and weird and I love terrible music and I worry about things and I want people to know all of me."

Her words hit me like lightning.

How many of us have been reduced to our intelligence? How many brilliant people walk through life feeling like their minds are both their greatest asset and their loneliest prison?

Here's what I want you to know: Your intelligence is a gift. But it's not your only gift.

Your curiosity, your humor, your ability to notice beauty, your capacity for wonder, these are equally valuable.

Small talk isn't beneath you. It's the doorway to everything above you.

Every casual conversation is an opportunity to show the full spectrum of who you are. Not just the brilliant part. The human part.

The part that notices things. Cares about things. Finds joy in simple connections.

The world needs your mind. But it also needs your heart.

Use both. Start with something small.

Know a brilliant person who needs to read this? Share the love.

Stay connected,
Eva - The Dialogue Architect™

P.S. I'm collecting stories about unexpected connections that started with small talk. What's yours? Hit reply, I read every single one and often feature them (with permission) in future issues.