I once thought I hated small talk. What’s the point of chatting about nothing? It felt like a waste of time. No decisions made, no value added, just words floating in the air. So I avoided it. No casual tea stalls, no networking fluff, no “circling around” in conversations.
Until one day, I realized I was getting more done—and feeling lonelier than ever.
Efficiency – the New Religion of Our Age
We live in an era where everything is measured. A meeting must have an agenda. A relationship must have an outcome. Even a conversation must solve a problem. Efficiency has become the reigning ethic, drawing a cold line: what doesn’t produce returns gets cut, what doesn’t push me forward is ignored.
And so, bit by bit, the seemingly “useless” parts of life disappear. Hanging out with no purpose. Walks without step counters. Rambling conversations that lead nowhere. We don’t call a friend just to say “I miss you.” We don’t stop by someone’s house without notice. We don’t sit quietly next to each other without guilt for “not doing anything.”
I remember once visiting my grandmother. She sat on the porch, peeling peanuts, passing them slowly into my hand. I sat there, phone in hand, restless with unanswered emails and looming deadlines. She asked, “Why can’t you just be at peace when you’re home?” I forced a smile: “I’m just busy, Grandma.” She nodded, said nothing more. Years later, after she was gone, I remembered that moment: all she wanted was for me to sit there. Nothing more. But I hadn’t allowed myself even one hour of being “useless.”
But It’s the Useless Things That Make Us Human
In the past, people survived because of community. No one made it alone. Butchering a pig, planting rice, gathering for a feast—these weren’t about preference, but necessity. And in that necessity, bonds formed. Today, we are independent enough not to need anyone. But we are also lonely enough to feel the ache when night falls.
When efficiency becomes the new moral standard, it’s “uselessness” that becomes the last refuge of our humanity.
Loneliness Isn’t About Lack of People—It’s About Lack of Meaningless Space
Loneliness isn’t defined by whether people are around. It’s defined by whether you have someone close enough with whom you dare to waste time. Someone you can sit with in silence. Someone you can share scattered, half-formed stories with. Someone you can cry next to without explaining why.
We don’t lack connections. We lack the ones unmeasured by productivity.
I have an old friend from high school. We don’t text daily, don’t meet often, don’t have “valid reasons” to keep in touch. But when we do meet, even after a year, we can sit in silence for thirty minutes without it feeling awkward. We sip coffee, watch the street, share a small laugh at something only we both notice. I don’t know what to call that kind of bond. I just know it’s what I fear losing most.
The Human Part Cannot Be Optimized
Humans weren’t born to be optimized. Hearts don’t beat by KPI. Longing doesn’t follow a calendar. A hug at the right time can save a soul—even if it doesn’t boost performance.
Sometimes, doing nothing together is the most precious act. In that moment, you don’t have to prove who you are, don’t have to be useful, don’t have to play a role. You just exist. And the other person stays.
I Don’t Need Another Efficient Conversation
What I need is someone to sit with when there’s nothing to say. To tell stories nobody asked for. To not always have a reason to be together. Because I already have enough “useful” in work, in study, in endless to-do lists. But the human part of me longs for something useless but true, light but touching, inefficient but present.
Conclusion
Efficiency may help us master time. But only human uselessness helps us touch one another.
If you have someone you can sit next to without doing anything, without saying anything, without reaching any conclusion—call them today. You don’t need a reason. Just ask: “How are you?” Or even simpler: “I miss you.”
Because in a world obsessed with optimization, those who allow us to be useless beside them are the ones keeping us human.