Mountains On The Moon
I hope this post finds you well.
I really do.
We joke about this line in the office quite a lot.
It’s such a cliché that nobody reads it and takes it as an honest enquiry into your health and well-being.
This week I was talking to someone who works in the world of neurodivergent inclusivity and they shared with me a slide-deck from a recent workshop on why small talk is so important.
It defines “social chat” as:
“…small talk, an informal type of interaction that does not cover any functional topics of conversation or any transactions that need to be addressed.
“It is polite and standard conversation about unimportant things.”
The implication is that autistic people use small talk once a connection has been made, whereas neurotypical people use small talk to establish a connection before they know them.
Small talk is hard to do in a business context because it often lacks authenticity. Saying “I hope this post finds you well” has become worse than not even asking at all.
So how do you authentically ask if someone is doing ok, if you’re also then going to ask them to do some crap work for you?
Internally, I’ve found this increasingly difficult to get my head around as we’ve scaled.
When there were five, and then ten of us in the team, I knew everything about everyone. You could build deeper bonds, but more importantly you knew what might be a trigger if someone is having a bad day, or what the thing is that drives them more than anything.
It’s a recalibration, because you can still build connection without knowing this stuff, but it hits the authenticity if it is surface level and just going through the motions.
Are they in a relationship? Do they have kids? Do they still have a relationship with their parents? Do they play any sports? Do they have any long-term health conditions? Do they have any irrational fears?
Of course, there are fields in CRMs that enable you to note down facts about the person that you can use to callback in future chats.
I get this a lot as a football fan, there are people who you can see ask the question because they’re genuinely interested, and those who have noted it down last time we spoke and don’t quite remember the context in which they scribbled down “ask about Wrexham”.
Is this genuine connection? Would it read better if I opened this email with “I hope you enjoyed the result on Saturday?” or “How is Poppy getting on in uni?”
Does it matter if they checked back on their notes before asking?
How much of this social construct alienates some folks where others thrive?
The unwritten rules, the etiquette, and expected behaviours that are impossible to know unless you’re already in the class or club.
Pistyll in the Wind
Last month, on my holiday, I went for a drive down to Pistyll Rhaeadr and on the way went past an old chapel and pub in Glyn Ceiriog which brought back a long forgotten memory of going to a christening at 18 in a suit which had a zip.
I remember buying this suit from D2 (you might need to look that one up) and thinking “yup, that’ll be formal enough”.
It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties that I started to learn about suit etiquette, and how important trivial things are like the exact point at which the tie needs to meet your belt and how to honour King Edward VII when you’re wearing a blazer or waistcoat.
There’s certainly nothing in the GQ “how to wear a suit” guides that mentions a suit with a zip anywhere on it.
Connecting my knowledge now with the memory of then was awkward, but that moment of cringe quickly fades when you consider the mountains on the moon.
There are two reasons for this week’s post.
One is about perspective, and one is about the beautiful futility and dangerous reliance on habits and patterns in our everyday life.
Perspective
The question at the start is hollow, but it serves a purpose.
There is a real desire to know what someone is experiencing in order to work together better.
If I’ve learnt anything from the last five years of running TownSq especially it’s that people go through a lot.
How people can stay focused with so much playing on their minds equally astounds and inspires me.
I’ve had things fed back to me that would look extreme in a soap opera, and require a lot more therapy and coaching to deal with than is readily available.
This week we had some really bad news in our team. The worst type of news.
This news is going to affect peoples’ ability to do their job for the foreseeable future.
That it has happened in the team creates an epicentre that focusses in on how much impact these events can have.
It isn’t a business issue, it needs a new perspective altogether.
How Are You?
Whenever someone asks “how are you?” I’ve always struggled to just give a “fine thanks, you?” response.
If we have that brief window of opportunity to be candid about what is going on and build a more authentic answer and picture.
Of course, often the other person doesn't really want to know how you are. They’re just following protocol.
You can see the shock and dismay in their face the second they realise you might actually give them an answer.
It’s the most and least important question we get asked every day. It’s a window into how people are really doing in one moment or a brief formality depending on how you ask and how you listen.
Our Futile Existence
The second part of this is a reflection on the futility of our existence.
I talked about my interest in space last month (and my desire to have as much fascination with our own planet).
Sometimes you just have to remember there are mountains on the moon.
I’m going to write more in the future about eustress and the value of stress when it’s managed well, but we need perspective.
When someone sends you a narky email on a Friday at 4pm, or you get a set back that feels like it sucks away all momentum, it’s important to think about Mons Huygens or Mons Wolff.
From the mountain on the moon our planet looks small, and our dramas are impossible to see.
Yet nothing is bigger than our relationships and human connections. Than knowing the answer to the question: “how are you?"
Humanity has existed for 200,000 years, max. History begins around 2,900 years ago. Relative to the universe (13.8bn years) or our earth (4.5bn years) we are fully insignificant. Earth will outlast humanity, and if humans exist in another 200,000 years (or even another 2,900) it will be miraculous.
Every part of our existence is that, miraculous.
It’s working all of your life to gain a little bit more freedom to do things your own way, spend more time with your family and friends, and pursue your own hobbies and lifestyle.
And then have that taken from you.
Mortgages on Mars
The other part of the futility is there are no mortgages on Mars.
I’ve mentioned Sapiens a thousand times in these posts, it had a profound affect on me.
Everything is created by another human being. Everything is a constructed process or mechanic to solve a problem.
Even where we have forests and patches of grass these days is a decision taken by humans to preserve or not destroy them (for now).
Mortgages are not a natural thing, they don’t have a divine right to exist, same as mobile phone contracts, UX, umbrellas, or pensions.
We live in a constructed environment that we take as inevitable or fixed. This makes our lives easier to live, order more likely, and predictability to plan what happens decade to decade, generation to generation.
We either choose to accept this framework or we don’t. We often accept it unknowingly, or we use entrepreneurship or rebellion to try to change it.
I don't know whether I need to emphasise this next line, but in case it needs saying and people think this is bleak.
None of this is to bemoan this, it just makes it more precious.
I remember when an artist got mad at me in Kazakhstan for saying that all art was just our neural pathways referring to our synapses and creating new ones.
They felt like that took away the magic but I think it’s the opposite. That we see and experience joy in this way appears to be a uniquely human advantage.
It is the most beautiful thing that this is all part of our evolved form.
It is something we see in mourning and suffering. We feel the pain, the deep gut-wrenching pain of losing someone too soon. But we love that we had them, and what their existence did to make ours more meaningful.
That we met them, that we were able to spend time with them, and that their loss is felt.
And if we’re lucky, we realise that those relationships we still hold are not permanent and more precious than anything.
They’re particularly more important than any email on a Friday afternoon, they’re on a different planet.
Read next…
Of Course I Love Your Terrible Idea
Never ask anyone what they think of your idea.
The previous three weeks have been a three-parter on social entrepreneurship and systems change. If you’ve missed them, here they are:
Part one
Social Science Is Harder Than Rocket Science
One day last March, Steve Wozniak really pissed me off…
Part two
I really didn’t want to go to Saudi Arabia…