Conference-Call Small Talk is the Worst Small Talk

Meetings of any kind are wonderful explorations into social interaction, which is great because most meetings have absolutely no value otherwise. But, as anyone who’s ever participated in a conference call can attest, conference-call meetings are the worst kinds of meetings. And, as anyone who’s ever interacted with a stranger or moderate associate can attest, small talk, in general, is excruciating.

You’re alone in a room, probably in your underwear, waiting for your undeniably useless conference call. You know the call is going to take up way too much of your time to accomplish nothing (aside from the inevitable final comment from the call’s leader, “I’ll follow up with an email full of action items,” which either never arrives or could’ve substituted for the entire call), and you know you have to deal with the constant interruptions of everyone talking over everyone else with unnecessary loudness, and you know there’s going to be one guy who doesn’t know how to mute his phone, so you have to listen to his children screaming in the background while his dogs bark at the mailman. You know all this going in, but the absolute worst part of a conference call is the pre-call small talk. Conference-call small talk is the worst possible small talk.

You likely barely know the people with whom you’re talking, and there’s a good chance you’ve never met them. Although you can’t see them, you can sense the awkward huddle of the small group of same-site co-workers, leaning in and shouting at their weird speaker phone at the middle of a too-large-for-their-company table, then leaning back and making snide glances at each other while people who aren’t in that room are speaking.

You’re peacefully in your own office, but if you call in at the wrong time, you’re going to have to endure the following:

Where are you located? Whoa, it’s hot/cold there. I was there once when I was six in some city 400 miles away from where you live. All I remember is (inane memory). Are we waiting for anyone else? Just (insert two names) and maybe (third name), right? Hey, are you a (perceived local sports team) fan? I’m a (team) fan. Now let’s nonverbally decide which team is doing better, with the fan of the better team now having the onus of making a joke at the other person’s expense, unless that other person has already made the identical joke in a self-deprecating fashion.

It’s all the same Goffman-labeled safe supplies you’ll find in real life, but even more overtly forced and insincere. I’m perfectly comfortable with total silence during these moments, so I neither lead nor further the small talk. I’ll answer the questions because I am not total scum, but I won’t follow up with additional questions. Most people, however, are not comfortable with silence, even when in separate rooms 4,000 miles apart in hot/cold environments with different sports allegiances.

Beep

To make matters worse, the small talk is always interrupted by a stupid beep and a goober shouting “HEY JIM’S HERE” followed by eight seconds of ear-piercing crinkling, which is probably Jim’s bag of chips he apparently couldn’t open prior to calling. Not only did you not want to talk about your team’s new shortstop, but you’ve now been stopped short while attempting to be courteous, making you look like a self-important dolt who can’t live without proclaiming your favorite teams.

It gets even worse as more people join the call, with every sentence beginning with “I was just telling (insert growing list of names here).”

You’re silently begging with failed telepathy for the blabberer to stop saying things until everyone is there, but really all you can hope for is, “Let’s just get started and hope Barry joins here in a moment.” Seven or eight sentences of preamble later, just as you’re finally getting to the alleged point of the call, Barry joins and you have to go through it all again.

Awful.

How can you ease the conference-call small talk? I’ve found the best way is to say nothing until whoever is leading the call asks if you’re there. And if you’re leading the call, it’s all your fault, so you get no sympathy. The call leader should be the first one on, greeting each new caller with “We’ll get started when everyone’s here.” Zero small talk. That is incredibly rare, so you need to have a strategy.

When To Call

Based on decorum, you owe it to everyone to call no later than the official start time of the meeting. Based on your own sanity, you owe it to yourself to best minimize the small talk. Here are your options:

Call Early

This is my preferred method. I call eight minutes early, which is almost always early enough to beat anyone else trying to be first. Sort of like bidding $8.12 rather than $8.00 on eBay. If you are the first on the call, you get that fancy “You are the first person in the conference” message and it is then totally up to you if you get sucked into the small talk. When others join, and if they say anything, ignore them. Although they didn’t get the you’re-first notice, they don’t know for sure they’re not first. If you respond to them, everything that happens to you from that point on is your fault.

As more people join, you’ll have to listen to their small talk, but if you stay silent, you don’t have to participate.

Call Late

This is rude, socially speaking, but it also gets you out of all small talk, unless you come in with some stupid story about why you’re late. This leads to the summary per the above Barry example, but to you, it’s not a summary. Everyone else has to endure the preamble a second time because of you, but you’ve skirted it all. You are selfish, but your skills are respected. This would be my second-favorite strategy if I weren’t so adamantly against being late.

Call Exactly On Time

This is my least favorite. Yes, you’re on time and therefore not a selfish scumbag, but the first thing you’ll hear is six voices talking over each other about sports and weather. You have to sit through eight or nine seconds of that before someone says, “Wait, I think someone just joined. Tim, is that you?”

You have to confirm your presence, then be drawn in to whatever inane conversation they’re having (but not before getting a summary of what they already said). Plus, there’s a good likelihood Barry is still out there, so whatever you’re hearing as you join will have to be repeated again when that selfish mastermind finally arrives.

Don’t Call

Probably the best solution of all. You avoid all the pre-meeting small talk and all the during-meeting non-talk and still get copied on the post-call email. So many voices were interrupting each other throughout the call, everyone will forget you weren’t there. You’ll face no repercussions.