Beyond Small Talk

Justin Sikora, New York

When I adopted my dog, Ace, in January last year, I had interactions with more strangers in the first week than I had in the three years I lived in Chicago—combined (single guys without a dog, the legend about a puppy making a great wingman is true…though as a married man I just smirked at all the attention Ace effortlessly reeled in). But the interactions among these strangers—primarily other dog owners—lacked depth and I discovered the phenomenon that happens when you have a dog: people talk to you through your dog. Let me explain.

At the dog park it’s very common for me to get a “What’s his name?” referring to Ace. But rarely ever do I get a formal introduction. Sometimes all I can think is, “What’s his name? What about my name? I’m the person here.” Dog owners, keep tabs the next few times you go to the park. See if you exchange more information than just dog names, breeds and ages with anyone.

Make no mistake, people aren’t cold or mean. They are just more willing to engage with you through the playful, furry creature on the ground than risk an awkward conversation with a stranger. I get it. Dogs are easier to get along with than humans –they speak less, but give much more attention. I’ve caught myself at the park playing with my dog feeling grateful that no one is bothering me, but being in a new city I’m trying to meet as many people as possible.

One evening last week I was at the dog park just outside the Museum of Natural History unsuccessfully playing fetch with Ace (while the Labrador in him loves to fetch, the pit bull in him loves to play tug-of-war instead of giving me the ball back).As we were playing, an eager black Lab came running up to me with a ball of his own and dropped it at my feet. After telling Ace to pay attention, I picked up the ball and hailed it across the park. Like a good boy, the Lab scampered after it, returned and again dropped it at my feet. [Ace, are you taking notes?] As this was happening, the owner was staring at his phone—avoiding any conversation with me. He did at one point stop to ask the Lab, “Did you make a new friend.” Again, acknowledging me through his dog.

Determined to change the dog-park culture, I walked over to the owner and introduced myself to him. From our conversation I learned that the Lab is a service dog in training, and the owner, John, is actually a trainer who provides a foster home to dogs before they are ready to be placed with someone with a disability. It turns out that John is a satellite trainer with the same Pennsylvania-based organization that trained two dogs that have been part of my family for the past 12 years. My two siblings with special needs adopted their service dogs from the same organization John works for.

Had I not taken the time to introduce myself to John, I would have missed out on this connection and the reminder that NY has more connections to “home” than I initially realized. Not to mention the fact that I’d be out a new friend…and ties to a dog that’s willing to actually play fetch.

What does this have to do with what we do? Well, much like the average dog owner, marketers have a tendency to only talk to and understand their audience through the lens of their brand, rather than taking the time to look up from their work and introduce themselves to real people within the target they work so hard to reach. It’s important to make eye contact and have a real, personal conversation. You just may be amazed by what you learn.