“MORNING” I NOD, as I walk in the park with my two young children scooting beside me.
“Mummy, why are you saying hello to that person?” My ever-questioning four-year-old probes.
“Because it’s nice to be nice,” I say. “But whyyyyy?” my four-year-old asks.
“Do you even know that person?” he pushes. “No,” I say. “Then why are you talking to them?” he sighs, genuinely frustrated at what he considers a fruitless, ‘boring’ encounter.
As a Covid baby, he spent half his short life in and out of lockdown. People wearing masks, mouths covered, social distancing and the distinct lack of those lovely, random, and often inconsequential chats with strangers that normally pepper most people’s days.
I sometimes fear it’s all had a bigger impact on him than I realise. But then I remember I grew up in the late 80s under the fear of ‘stranger danger,’ when most of us were told the golden rule over and over; “don’t talk to strangers.”
I was a shy child and can vividly remember being mortified when going out for walks with my dad as a teenager. He would without fail, always say “good morning,” or “good afternoon,” whenever we passed someone on the path. He was and still is the sort of person who’d happily strike up a conversation with anyone. At the checkout, in the aisles of a shop, on a walk with the dog, on a train, etc. I used to roll my eyes and wonder why he was saying hello and chatting to someone he didn’t even know. “Sure, it’s good to shoot the breeze,” he’d tell me. In retrospect, he was right, but for some reason, acknowledging, or even worse talking to, strangers just made me feel maximum cringe.
Whether it’s the influence of ‘stranger danger’ or the hangups from Covid, it seems an almost universal fact that young kids and teenagers get mortified by their parents’ love of random chats with strangers.
Ah, the circle of life though; it’s got a savvy sense of humour really, because I have now morphed into that person who genuinely finds joy in the utter inconsequential stuff I talk to strangers about. When I’m getting a coffee, or out with the dog, those unscripted and quick random chats with strangers give me a pep in my step. We talk about nothing and everything. On the one hand, it is utterly unimportant, and yet in another sense, it’s hugely important, because repeated studies show that talking to people we don’t know is good for our wellbeing.
It would be all too easy to assume the social interactions that matter most and the ones that benefit our mental health are those with people already within our circle. Our families, partners, work colleagues and friends. However, studies show that a more diverse range of social interactions is best for our overall wellbeing. They give us a more rounded look at the world, allow us a chance to hear different points of view, and open us up in so many ways.
Modern life, however, is set up to reduce these little random interactions. Working from home, self-service checkouts, ‘humanless’ banks, ordering everything on apps instead of leaving the house, and of course the rise of the smartphone have all had an effect. When we do find ourselves in potential situations for chats with strangers, more often than not you’ll find people with their heads in their screens and headphones on, so absorbed in the virtual world, that they are almost unaware that there are fellow humans in the room or on the other side of the till.
Social media has fundamentally changed how we interact with people and while it has allowed us to make wider virtual connections, talking to strangers online just isn’t the same as in real life. For example, there’s something about the presence of a screen that makes us more comfortable with being aggressive towards others with differing opinions. Words get misconstrued, meaning gets lost along the way and it often ends in negativity. Whereas if we have those discussions in the flesh, they are more likely to be richer and less confrontational.
The simple fact is that we’re so busy talking to the echo chamber of our social media accounts that we’ve forgotten how to talk to each other in real life. And don’t get me started on the scourge of voice notes.
Some will argue that talking to strangers opens a person up to risk. Richard Gaad’s emotionally hard-hitting and eye-opening real-life-based Netflix drama, Baby Reindeer, brought home the potential downsides of showing kindness to a stranger. But is it any more dangerous than talking to a faceless stranger online? There’s risk in both situations, but what the show illustrated in poignant detail is that despite us being more virtually connected than ever, there are a lot of lonely people out there.
Research suggests that Irish people are among the loneliest in the EU. Nobody wants a Martha situation on their hands, but I’d argue we all lose something if we turn our backs on those random in-person chats with strangers. None of us has any idea what other people are going through in their lives, but sometimes, it’s those fleeting, insignificant connections that happen in a day which can make all the difference. Equally, we need to know when those sorts of chats are unwanted, and understanding those social cues is another side to the skill many of us are out of practice with.
As much as I understand my four-year-old’s negative feelings about my ‘boring’ chats with strangers is a phase, I’m also keen to instil a sense of openness in both my children, especially after Covid. Having the skills to be comfortable in a room full of people you may not know and how to confidently strike up a conversation, is a talent that will stand to them for their whole lives.
I’m not saying my young children should chat away to the next stranger who suspiciously offers them a chance to go and look at a mysterious box of puppies in the back of their van. We simply need to educate our children that in the right circumstances, it’s good to be able to talk to people you don’t know.
What I’ve come to realise, as a formerly shy person who would run a mile and cringe behind a rock rather than speak to a stranger, is that striking up a conversation is a leap of faith. Yes, there’s always the chance the other person might not want to speak with you, or you might not get the reaction you thought. But what if you do get a warm reception back? What if that small interaction brightens both your days and, that little leap of faith ends up being good for your soul?
Niamh O’Reilly is a freelance writer and wrangler of two small boys, who is winging her way through motherhood, her forties and her eyeliner.
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