And how to get past the dread

Have you ever been in an elevator and watched someone stare intently at a blank screen for three floors just to avoid making eye contact with the person standing two feet away from them? Have you ever done this? Be honest. I know I have.

This kind of experience lives rent free in my head, not because it’s unusual, but because it’s completely normal.

I recently heard about Nicholas Epley’s new book, A Little More Social: How small choices create unexpected happiness, health, and connection, and when I started to read it, things started to click.

Epley, a psychologist at the University of Chicago, has spent his career studying how humans connect, and more specifically, why we so often don’t. His central finding is both humbling and hopeful: we systematically underestimate how much other people want to connect with us. We assume the stranger will be annoyed. We assume the colleague will be uncomfortable. We assume the gratitude will land awkwardly. And so we say nothing, do nothing, stare at our phones.

It turns out we’re wrong, and the cost of getting it wrong is higher than we might think.

I referenced another piece of thought leadership while facilitating a recent webinar, and the reaction told me everything. People leaned in, went quiet, and nodded. It was the work of UCLA neuroscientist Matthew Lieberman, from his book Social. Lieberman’s research shows that our brains process social rejection and exclusion in the same regions that process physical pain. Not metaphorically, but actually neurologically. Being left out of the meeting, ignored in the hallway, or overlooked by your leader registers in the brain the same way a burn or a bruise does.

When we fail to connect, like when we walk past someone without acknowledging them, or we forget to include someone, or when we go weeks without a genuine check-in, we’re not just being a bit negligent, we may be causing actual pain. The brain doesn’t distinguish, but it hurts just the same.

The moments we avoid connecting aren’t neutral

This is why Epley’s findings carry such weight. There’s a cost to every missed hello.

I see this play out in my coaching practice over and over again: leaders who are masterful at the big important stuff (strategy, board presentations, tough conversations), often ignore the small important stuff (spontaneous hallway check-ins, handwritten notes, genuine “how are you actually doing?” inquiries that aren’t a preamble to a task). We’ve convinced ourselves that efficiency is a virtue, brief is better, an emoji reacts faster and with less friction than an actual conversation. And maybe it does react faster, but it doesn’t connect.

What Epley’s research reveals, and what I’ve witnessed firsthand in leaders who are able to inspire their people, is that connection positively impacts performance. Feelings of belonging drive discretionary effort. Feeling seen by your leader is one of the most powerful predictors of engagement, retention, and psychological safety. 

The small moments aren’t peripheral to leadership, they are leadership.

That’s Just Not How Introverts Are Wired

One of my favourite passages in the book challenges the idea that introverts are somehow exempt from this. Epley is pretty clear: introverts and extroverts alike are wired for connection, and both benefit from choosing more of it. The difference is the story we tell ourselves about what the other person is thinking.

I work with a lot of leaders who identify as introverts and use it (understandably, and sometimes too conveniently) as an explanation for why they don’t reach out more. “That’s just not how I’m wired.” But what if the wiring is fine, and it’s the expectations that are broken? What if the discomfort is the inaccurate belief that the other person doesn’t want to hear from you rather than a fundamental truth about who you are? That reframe has shifted something for a number of my clients.

My Elevator Moment

I had my own elevator moment a few years ago. I was at a dinner with a group of clients, seated next to someone I didn’t know well. I spent most of the first course composing clever things to say instead of just talking to him. When I finally stopped performing and started listening, we had one of the most interesting conversations I’d had in years. 

The best connections in my life haven’t come from grand gestures, they’ve come from the moments I stopped hesitating and started showing up.

Small Choices. Big Returns.

Epley isn’t suggesting you overhaul your personality or schedule vulnerability workshops. He’s asking you to have a conversation with the person next to you on the train, to express the gratitude you’ve been carrying around, to move past pleasantries with a colleague and ask something real.

For leaders, I’d add this: your people are watching the small moments as closely as the big ones, maybe more closely. The “great work on the presentation” text matters. “I was thinking about what you said last week” matters. “Can I get you a coffee?” matters. Not because they’re tactics, but because they’re true. And people can tell the difference.

You are, at your core, a social animal leading other social animals. Start there.

What’s one small connection you’ve been putting off? An email you haven’t sent. A “thank you” you’ve been meaning to say. A colleague you’ve been meaning to properly check in with. Consider this your nudge.

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AUDIO Book: A Little More Social: How small choices create unexpected happiness, health, and connection