At the end of a work meeting, two people sometimes find themselves in the awkward position of having concluded much earlier than expected.
They have a decision to make:
A. Call it a day.
B. Engage in tentative small talk so neither seems aloof and purely outcome-oriented.
A few weeks ago, I went with option B. This acquaintance and I ended up sharing about our respective life situations and challenges, and at the end of it, they asked if they could pray for me.
I'm not religious, so this threw me off a little. But I decided to roll with it, and there we sat, heads hunched over in the middle of a crowded Kopi & Tarts. After what felt like a good 5 minutes, the prayer ended, and we said our goodbyes.
Later, I found myself thinking, "That was actually quite nice." While I may not have connected with this person's faith, I understood the words, and I recognised that this was a gift.
I've been reflecting a lot on what it means to connect with others. For a long time, I was someone who would dread having to work with or even be around other people. Human interaction was always something to be endured, and the best part of any meeting was when it was cancelled 5 minutes before it started.
But like it or not, people exist—I see you, fellow introverts—and can't always be avoided. Despite my best efforts, I've ended up working in roles that are essentially all about people: talking to people, understanding them, managing them, growing them, telling their stories, and so on.
One thing I'm learning to appreciate more these days is that connection is so much more than just combinations of words exchanged between two individuals. It's also about the person we choose to be in these moments.
It doesn’t need to be perfect to be wonderful
From 2021 to 2022, I happened to do some babysitting for my extended family. All the parents out there will know that getting kids to do what you want is up there with trying to solve the climate crisis. And so when I first started doing this, these sessions frustrated me to no end.
Things changed when I stumbled upon The New Fatherhood, and started reflecting on how I was showing up to these afternoons. I noticed that once I ditched my expectations, and accepted that whatever was going to happen would happen, and all I could do was go with the flow, I enjoyed myself so much more. I began to build an actual relationship with my nephews.
(Yes, I know that babysitting is nothing like full-time parenting—it's just an analogy!)
One of the things I struggle with is that I am always hyper aware of when I'm feeling disconnected from a conversation. This can happen when I feel misunderstood, when someone doesn't get my sense of humour, or if they just don't seem interested in where I'm trying to lead the conversation. Accordingly, I can often show up to social interactions hoping they'll go a certain way.
I might hope that a friend would not bring up a specific topic, or that a colleague would be agreeable and ready to buy into something I'm trying to accomplish. It's a weird place to be in, because then I'm constantly on my guard, trying to shape the chemistry or quietly looking out for points of attack and when I might need to play defence.
I've previously written about the concept of flow, and I'm trying to do this more with the people I choose to spend time with. I accept that I don't know how it's going to go, and that even in moments of disconnection, I can pause and simply find another way.
I try to remind myself that if I'm only willing to accept a particular outcome, I'm the one choosing to disconnect, because I'm not allowing the other person to simply be who they are.
Shut up & show up
To do this well, it really helps to practise curiosity. I use the word 'practise' because it's something I've had to be very intentional about doing. Quite literally, I sometimes keep a mental tally of how long I've spoken for, and when I should start asking questions. I'll track the things someone has shared, and watch for opportunities to return and dive deeper into them.
In management and coaching, we talk a lot about asking good/better questions. Sometimes, I find that it's enough to just ask more questions. And as a result, I've also learnt to embrace and really enjoy making small talk—I ask about someone’s weekend, their kids, what they had for breakfast, how they got to our meeting place.
So long as the talk isn’t kept small, and is used as an entry point into getting curious about who this person is and why they spend their time the way they do.
My problem is that I often like to introspect and go on abstract philosophical tangents. So when I meet people who like to do the same, I generally have a good time. But sometimes I forget that this isn't always what the moment calls for, or what other people necessarily want to do.
In that same vein, curiosity isn't just about good conversations. It's also about things like saying yes when a friend invites me to attend some event that I'm sceptical of, and getting curious about what could happen.
Sometimes, it's enough to simply show up.
Tell your friends you love them
Okay, maybe not literally. But also maybe literally.
When I was in secondary school, my classmates and I were for some reason discussing a teacher's love life. At one point, I blurted out, "Love is when someone sees in you what you don't see in yourself!" I had no idea what this meant at the time, but I think I do now.
These days, I try to do things like thank people for the little (and sometimes big) things that they do for me. I tell work friends that they've got this, because remember that time when you did something similar and killed it? When I meet someone for the first time, I send a follow-up text telling them what I appreciated about our exchange.
I do this also because, as I've gotten older, I've realised that most adults continue to struggle with the insecurities and anxieties that have plagued them for as long as they've been alive. We think we're bad friends, we can never seem to follow through on healthy life changes, and we're always messing things up at work. We're all just pretending to be more confident, more charismatic, more heroic, more put-together, more 'totally fine' than we really are.
So I try, when I can, to let others know that I see you, you're doing great so far, keep going.
We all need other people
And yet, I am still learning how to be on the receiving end of such kindness.
Back in June this year, when I began telling the individual members of my previous team that I would be leaving the organisation, I really dreaded those conversations because I felt as though I was letting all of them down. When everyone responded by being overwhelmingly supportive, telling me I should prioritise what I felt was most important, all I could think was, "Why is everyone being so nice to me?"
Somewhere in my OS was a tiny voice that continued to say, "This isn't right. You should feel bad. How dare you put your own needs before others?" And it took me over a week to properly process what was happening.
I came out of this experience realising that connecting with others is not just about giving, it is also about knowing how to receive.
Often, we talk about 'getting help' as though it's such a simple thing. But depending on where you are on your journey, 'getting help' could look like:
First even recognising that you need help
Getting to a place where you are ready to receive it
Learning how to ask for it
Having the willingness and capacity to accept it and use it
Each of these steps can entail its own complex learning curve, but if we genuinely believe that we don't want to do this whole life thing alone, then learning to connect with others is just one half of the picture. The other half is allowing others to connect with us.
How you treat people is who you are
Had I been in my mid-20s when someone asked if they could pray for me, I would have politely declined and felt like I was standing up for my values. These days, when things like that happen, I try to take a second to ask, "What's really going on here?"
Sometimes, what's going on is that someone is attempting to evangelise and introduce you to their faith. Sometimes, they're just connecting with you in the way they know best. And the only way to tell the difference is by being open to what's possible, rather than retreating and letting past experiences dictate your present reality.
I like to joke that everything balances out at the cosmic level. Usually, I say this just so we can stop pretend-fighting over who's picking up the bill this time. But I think that I do actually believe this—that there are times when we give, and times when we receive. Whether it's time, money, or personal favours, it all eventually comes back to you.
One quick thing before the end of today’s post:
I recently started training to be certified as a coach, and in order to qualify, I’m looking to clock a minimum of 100 coaching hours. If you’re interested to work with me or to just find out more, you can drop me an email, and I would love to share about my specific background/expertise and what we could potentially work on.
Otherwise, take it easy, keep going, and I’ll catch you at the next one. 👋🏻
PS. I don’t typically like covers of Goo Goo Dolls songs, but this one has been on repeat this past week. Also, if you like rambling, long form conversations about art, creativity, and everything in between, I highly recommend Tetragrammaton with Rick Rubin.