harsh wind blowing
Esteban
As I step out of the deep freeze and unwrap six layers of winter gear in the lobby, I see Wendy from HR approaching. It's on; I'm trapped. It's time for small talk.
phone ringing
Esteban
Am I scared? Of course. This is not your average banter.
pouring coffee
Esteban
This is Wisconsin small talk, and I'm facing Wendy herself,
baseball organ music
Esteban
the queen of chit-chat. She's in the big leagues. As she approaches with the warmest smile, I start to sweat.
"Charge (Fanfare)"
Esteban
This is not amateur hour. "Esteban!" - She shouts, eyes sparkling. I almost didn't make it. I have no idea why I even got out of bed today. She says, pointing at the blizzard outside. This is why she's a legend. Not even a "Hey!" No sign of a "Oh, how are you?" The worst thing about Wisconsin's winter is not that it sucks; it does. It's that you're forced to talk about it... a lot. But I don't even flinch. I've been training. Big smile, hands on hips, strong eye contact. The only thing that got me out of bed, I say, skipping a beat for maximum effect... was coffee!
Wendy laughs hysterically
Esteban
She bursts into laughter. Oh, how we chuckle and howl. Maybe Wendy from HR has finally met her match. When I arrived in Madison six years ago, I was unprepared. When animals meet, they growl, display their plumage, or sniff butts. Small talk in Wisconsin seemed like a similar show of dominance, and I wanted no part of it. As an immigrant from South America, I tried hard to avoid it, arriving late to all meetings, speaking Espaol to my Uber driver, or keeping it under 12 items so I could use
scanner beeps
Esteban
the self-checkout machine at the grocery store. As Wendy and I move slowly down the hall, I feel like I'm doing great. She talks about the unpredictability of March. I mention Al Gore, and we share a moment of silence for the polar bears.
Wendy sympathetically
Ohhh... I wonder to myself why Wisconsinites are so keen on this. There's no need for small talk where I'm from. Quito, Ecuador is a pretty big cosmopolitan city where we kiss hello with strangers, quickly compliment each other and go on our way. Our social connections involve salsa music, Catholicism, and all those germs from smooching strangers.
salsa music
Wendy sympathetically
When Wendy and I reach the end of the hallway, I realized we're going in opposite directions, but we linger. Too much is on the line, and I will not go gently into that.
Wendy
Have a good day!
Esteban
But I must confess, compared to the frozen gray outside, Wendy's casual banter is making me feel warm inside and I start to understand. I imagine early settlers who, after setting up and getting comfortable during the Wisconsin summer, endured their first winter weather.
snowstorm blusters
Esteban
What stopped them from packing up and heading south? Maybe someone rolled their eyes mid-blizzard and joked, "Nice day out there, huh?" And the extended chatter that followed lasted until it was time to collect berries, split logs, go fishing, and run from bears, or whatever.
cartoon skedaddle sound
Esteban
Wendy helped me understand that. Sure, the weather sucks, but that's a small price to pay for the ability to connect with your neighbors about how much it sucks. As far as who won our small talk showdown,
audio played in fast forward
Esteban
neither of us gave it up. So, after 42 minutes and two follow-up emails,
incoming email chimes
Esteban
we decided we are getting married!
"Here Comes the Bride"
Esteban
We're looking at dates for next summer, or, as we here in Wisconsin like to call it, road construction season.
pipe organ music, construction jackhammer
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