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Susan Lee, regional print editor(Image: Liverpool ECHO)

Small talk is a big loss

The ECHO's Print Editor tells it like it is...

by

Small talk is a big loss

I never thought I’d say this but . . . I really miss the office.

I know, I know, remind me of that statement in the dark depths of next January when I have to once again face the 6am alarm and the commute from hell. Perhaps I’ll feel differently.

But right now, from my current position - working at the kitchen table surrounded by empty coffee mugs and with only the cat for company - I’d give anything to be getting up in the dark and travelling to work.

I miss meetings where everyone attending is in the same room. I miss the view of the building site - and yes, alright, the builders - I used to enjoy from the window behind me. I miss choosing a Tesco sandwich for lunch and saying hello to the bloke on security first thing and goodbye to a different bloke on security last thing.

Nigel from accounts? Who used to drone on about his classic car? I’d give anything to hear about his broken gasket now.

The bloke from sales notorious for stealing other people’s milk? My heart aches to roll my eyes behind his back again.

Even the three flights of stairs I used to climb to avoid the shuddery lifts are now bathed in a rosy glow of nostalgia. So what if I could barely speak when I reached my floor - at least it upped my daily step count. Now my exercise revolves around walking to the kettle and back.

But what I really miss about the office is the small talk, the sometimes inane but strangely nourishing chit-chat among folk who share the same printers and stationery cupboard.

Small talk gets a bad rep but it’s actually an underrated skill and a pleasure.

Whereas big talk belongs to politicians and chief execs and world leaders, small talk belongs to you and me, ordinary folk just trying to rub along. Yet it’s no less powerful and arguably produces more results.

For a start it creates pockets of companionship, moments that bind us together as we make a brew and which say: ‘we’re on the same page, aren’t we?’

It is from small talk that allies and friends are made. It lubricates awkward social situations and opens up doors you didn’t even know were shut.

Of course small talk can take place anywhere. In the supermarket queue, at the bus stop, at parties.

But office small talk is in a class of its own, a common language that everyone recognises as a way of easing each other through the working day and to which you can return the following day, a safe harbour of dullness when life outside is stormy.

It might be the weather or last night’s football result or the new colour of paint the boss has chosen for reception, it doesn’t matter. When you’ve had a hard morning or a difficult meeting, those little exchanges provide a ray of sunshine which might just see you through to home-time.

And then there’s small talk’s more dangerously attractive twin - gossip; that frisson of excitement which elevates a dull afternoon, a juicy distraction you can chew over on the bus home or share in a whisper in the toilets.

None of this happens when you’re working from home. Zoom calls and phone calls are not the same as bumping into that bloke from IT in the corridor and swapping intel on the latest Netflix must-see.

One day, of course, I’ll be back at my desk and moaning bitterly about it again

And frankly I can’t wait.