How Each Cognitive Function Feels About Small Talk

If you’ve ever wondered why some people light up during small talk while others look like they’re being slowly buried alive, congratulations—you’ve brushed up against the power of cognitive functions. These are the psychological processes that make up how we (each of the 16 personality types) perceive and judge the world, and they impact how we interact with other people and the types of conversations we love or hate. But don’t worry, you don’t have to have a deep understanding of cognitive functions to enjoy this article! Let’s take a look!

Not sure which cognitive functions you use? Check out our handy-dandy list below:

• If you’re an ISFJ or ESFJ you use Introverted Sensing and Extraverted Feeling.
• If you’re an INFJ or an ENFJ you use Introverted Intuition and Extraverted Feeling.
• If you’re an ISFP or ESFP you use Introverted Feeling and Extraverted Sensing.
• If you’re an INFP or ENFP you use Introverted Feeling and Extraverted Intuition.
• If you’re an ISTJ or ESTJ you use Introverted Sensing and Extraverted Thinking.
• If you’re an INTJ or ENTJ you use Introverted Intuition and Extraverted Thinking.
• If you’re an ISTP or ESTP you use Introverted Thinking and Extraverted Sensing.
• If you’re an INTP or ENTP you use Introverted Thinking and Extraverted Intuition.

Not sure what your personality type is? Take our personality questionnaire here. Or you can take the official MBTI® here.

How Each Cognitive Function Feels About Small Talk

Introverted Sensing (Si):

Si is the primary perceiving function of ISFJs, ISTJs, ESFJs, and ESTJs.

“I’ve done this before. I will do it again. I am emotionally built for this hell.”

At first glance, Si seems like it might enjoy small talk. After all, it’s familiar. Structured. Predictable in that way that makes it feel less like a conversation and more like a ritual—like brushing your teeth or emotionally dissociating during your cousin’s wedding.

And if the conversation topic involves shared memories? Oh, baby. Si’s eyes light up like a Victorian child offered a single gumdrop at Christmas.

“Oh you like apple picking? Funny story—I went apple picking every October from 1992 to 2007 and once a goat ate my hat.”

This is Si’s moment. It doesn’t matter that no one asked. The goat story is coming out.

But the flip side? Si is also a trauma archivist. Every awkward pause, every blank stare after a joke didn’t land, every time someone said, “That’s nice,” in a way that clearly meant “Please stop talking”—it’s all still there. In full 4K. With Dolby surround sound and emotional subtitles.

Which means every small talk interaction is potentially walking into a minefield of shame flashbacks.

So, yes, Si may smile and nod and mention their new vacuum with great sincerity—but they are also very, very aware of how they smiled and nodded last time, and whether it came off too strong or not strong enough or “weird in the eyes.” And now they’re spiraling.

How Si avoids small talk:

• Beelines for the host’s dog. Pets it. Talks to the dog about how they’re both not like the other party guests. Calls the dog “good sir.”
• Pretends to get a very important text. Must go.
• Brings up weather patterns from 2008 as a way to force a pivot into safer, archived conversational territory.

How Si might enjoy small talk:

• Finds someone who also likes nostalgia and is suddenly in a passionate hour-long dialogue about cereal box prizes from the 90s.
• Leans into the structure—has go-to responses loaded like autofill. Finds comfort in the repetition. Treats it like a social speedrun.
• Gets to talk about traditions, routines, or personal memories. Honestly kind of thriving.

At the end of the day, Si will endure small talk the way it endures everything—with resigned dignity, a pocket full of tissues just in case, and a low-level internal monologue rating the event against previous ones on a scale from “charming” to “worse than that time I sneezed on the pastor.”

Find out more about Introverted Sensing.

Extraverted Sensing (Se):

Se is the primary perceiving function of ESFPs, ESTPs, ISFPs, and ISTPs.

“I can listen, but I’d rather we throw knives while we do it.”

Here’s the thing about Se: it’s not anti-small talk. Not inherently. It just wants small talk to get to the point or at least do something interesting while it’s happening. If the conversation involves standing still for more than 45 seconds while someone recaps a dream in excruciating detail, Se’s soul starts climbing out through its eyeballs in search of stimulation.

Small talk is fine as long as it’s:

• Light
• Fast
• Funny
• And preferably happening while tossing a frisbee or elbow-deep in a nacho platter.

While other functions are dissociating mid-sentence or internally crafting a 12-volume existential thesis on why they feel weird around eye contact, Se is just… here. Fully. Loudly. Wearing sunglasses indoors and calling you “bro” even if you’re 87 and named Margaret.

This function is all about immediacy. It’s not living three steps ahead (that’s Ni’s job) or emotionally spelunking into your childhood wounds (hi, Fi). Se is in this moment. Right now. So when you take small talk and start flooding it with long-winded stories that don’t go anywhere, or theoretical musings about your cousin’s enneagram type, Se starts to short-circuit.

They don’t hate you. They just need you to land the plane.

They will politely nod through your 11-minute monologue about office politics, but their brain has already started playing elevator music and mentally redecorating the room.

How Se avoids small talk:

• Suggests doing something instead: “Hey let’s talk while we shoot hoops/go for a walk/help me carry this heavy thing.”
• Tells a wild, inappropriate story that derails the vibe entirely and makes everyone either laugh or leave (both are acceptable outcomes).
• Zones out. Aggressively. You’re talking about the new HR manager and Se is wondering if they could jump and touch that ceiling tile without tearing a rotator cuff.

How Se might actually enjoy small talk:

• It’s paired with movement. Cooking, shopping, walking, helping someone hang Christmas lights at a 30-degree angle. Doesn’t matter—Se likes their conversations kinetic.
• It includes flirting, teasing, or banter. They love a little tension, a little spark, a little “should I be offended or are you just really charming?”
• There’s actual utility. “Hey, what’s the best pizza place around here?” That’s foreplay for Se. It could lead to pizza. And pizza is sacred.

Also, Se loves a sensory experience. If small talk includes food descriptions, strong smells, exciting environments, or any chance to touch something textured and weird, they’re in. Just don’t ask them to sit still, talk feelings, and wait for someone to finish telling a story with “you had to be there” energy. They weren’t. And they won’t be next time either.

Find out more about Extraverted Sensing.

Introverted Intuition (Ni):

Ni is the primary perceiving function of INFJs, INTJs, ENFJs, and ENTJs.

“We could talk about the weather… or we could unpack your unresolved metaphysical dread. Dealer’s choice.”

Ni doesn’t hate small talk. It just… sighs at it. Deeply. Like a disappointed philosophy professor watching students laugh at fart jokes during a lecture on Jungian dream symbolism.

Small talk is noise. It’s static on the psychic radio. It’s like trying to pick up the sound of God whispering secrets into the void while someone next to you won’t shut up about their neighbor’s new deck. And it’s fine—really, it’s fine—if we’re using this small talk as a warm-up. A runway. A trampoline that catapults us into something meaningful. But if we’re just gonna orbit around “What do you do?” like it’s the sun and we’re Mercury, then Ni is spiritually checking out.

You: “How’s work?”
Ni: “It’s… fine.” (internally analyzing how capitalism has drained the sacred from labor and wondering if they’re supposed to become a monk)

Ni is patient—but always watching. It’s clocking the trajectory of your conversation. Is this going to veer into the inevitability of a dystopian future? Big-picture ideas? Why people fear spiders more than public speaking? Shadow motivations? Now we’re talking.

But if you want to chat about what color you’re repainting your guest bathroom, Ni is going to start mentally searching for evacuation protocols. “We’re trapped. The walls are closing in. They just said ‘beige with an eggshell finish.’ Get us out.”

How Ni avoids small talk:

• Ghosts you mentally. Nods and mhms while constructing a mental map of their entire life trajectory based on the phrase “just been keeping busy.”
• Slips away mid-conversation under the pretense of needing to “check on something real quick” and is never seen again.
• Volunteers to help with setup, dishes, or logistics to avoid being trapped in any talk at all. Becomes “the quiet helpful one” and will absolutely disappear into coat duty.
• Interrupts your weather commentary with, “Do you ever think we’re all just repeating patterns from our parents without realizing it?” Suddenly it’s not small talk anymore. Suddenly you’re crying in a parking lot.

How Ni might enjoy small talk:

• It escalates quickly. Someone says “I’m tired,” and Ni says “Of what? The world? Yourself”
• The person they’re talking to is open to jumping into weird, deep, symbolic territory. You want to talk about recurring motifs in your relationships? Ni lights up like a  bonfire at midnight.
• They sense an undercurrent of significance. Doesn’t even have to be logical. Just give them the sense that this moment means something, that there’s a hidden pattern forming, and they’re all in.

Small talk for Ni is like being handed a coloring book when they were hoping to paint a cathedral ceiling. They’ll do it, politely. But don’t be surprised if your casual chat leads to them saying something like, “This is the moment everything changed,” and then walking away without explaining.

Find out more about Introverted Intuition here.

Extraverted Intuition (Ne):

Ne is the primary perceiving function of ENFPs, ENTPs, INFPs, and INTPs.

“All I need is a single word and I will derail this entire conversation.”

Ne hears “small talk” and immediately starts salivating. Not because they love boring social conventions—God no. But because anything—even a half-hearted question about traffic—can be turned into something weird and potentially unhinged if you just believe in the power of spiraling thought.

You: “Did you catch the game last night?”
Ne: “No, but did you know some squid can edit their own RNA in real time? I think that’s more impressive than football, personally.”

Ne doesn’t do linear. You start with curtain talk, and they’re off chasing down ideas about textile psychology.

Because that’s the magic (and the curse) of Ne: everything connects to everything else, which connects to something absurd, which connects to a business idea, which connects to the fact that no one’s made a podcast about historical lies told by elementary school teachers.

When small talk goes well for Ne:

• They find another Ne or a tolerant, bewildered soul willing to follow their 37 conversational leaps.
• The topic gets weird fast. What started as “How are you?” becomes “Do you believe in the multiverse?”
• They sense that they’re being mildly inappropriate and are encouraged to continue. A dangerous, intoxicating feedback loop.

But when small talk goes poorly? When it stalls in place? When the other person keeps reining it back to practical, safe, pre-chewed scripts?

Ne starts twitching.

Because Ne doesn’t want to know about your recent trip to Lowe’s unless it somehow ends in a spontaneous revelation.

How Ne avoids small talk:

• Starts joking immediately. Derails the conversation with absurdity before it ever has a chance to settle into something normal.

“So how was your weekend?”
“Pretty good, I joined a cult. You?”

• Asks questions that are technically related but emotionally deranged.

“What’s your favorite kind of apocalypse?”

• Changes topics like they’re flipping through TV channels in their brain.

You bring up the weather, they say, “Speaking of cold fronts, did you know penguins propose with rocks?”
No one knows how they got there. Not even them.

Ne treats small talk like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure where all paths lead to increasingly mind-bending tangents. They’re not trying to be weird. They just honestly don’t know how to stay on a single track without spiraling off into seven others that feel equally important and also possibly involve frogs.

Find out more about Extraverted Intuition here.

Introverted Feeling (Fi):

Fi is the primary judging function of INFPs, ISFPs, ENFPs, and ESFPs.

“I’ll talk about the weather, but only if we both secretly know we’re talking about something else.”

Fi doesn’t come into a room broadcasting their soul like a megaphone. They come in quietly, watchfully—scanning for sincerity, gauging whether the space feels safe, real, worth the energy of actual emotional presence. Because Fi’s inner world isn’t public domain. It’s sacred ground. And it doesn’t throw open the gates just because someone says “How’s your day going?”

That doesn’t mean Fi’s aloof necessarily. They’ll do small talk. They’ll ask about your pets, your hobbies, your weird hyperfixation with 90s shoegaze bands—but they’re paying attention to how you answer. They’re listening for truth. What lights you up. What makes you hesitate. What you don’t say.

They like when small talk flows gently. Not too loud. Not too fast. Not performative or one-uppy. Something calm. Warm. Preferably with a hot drink in hand and a couch involved. Something that allows for silences without pressure and lets personal tastes and quirks surface without judgment.

They’ll talk about favorite books. Which movies make them feel existentially cracked open. The art that saved their life once and how they didn’t tell anyone at the time because it felt too personal to explain.

That’s Fi: soft-spoken depth. Slow trust. Emotional X-ray vision that doesn’t need to shout to be felt.

How Fi avoids small talk:

• Keeps answers brief and polite. Not cold—just conserving energy. “How’s work?” “Busy.” “What’ve you been up to?” “Same old.” Translation: “You don’t know me like that.”
• Redirects toward something more personal but less exposing. “Seen any good movies lately?” or “What kind of music do you like?” Taste is safe ground—private, but shareable.
• Smiles, listens, lets you talk. They’d rather ask a good question than dominate a boring one.

How Fi actually enjoys small talk:

• It’s one-on-one. Low-stakes. No pressure to be “on.” Just two humans talking gently about things that matter in their own little way.
• There’s authenticity. You say what you mean, not what you think you’re supposed to say. Even “I’m kinda tired today” lands better than “Great! Busy busy!” because it’s real.
• It leads somewhere—maybe not all the way into emotional territory, but at least toward values. What do you love? What do you believe in? What makes you furious or joyful?

Fi doesn’t open up easily, but when it does, it means it. And it remembers. Not to use against you later, but because it cares. It might not say it outright. But Fi is the person who will remember the weird band you like, send you a link to a song they think you’d vibe with six weeks later, and ask how your dog’s dental surgery went because you mentioned it once in passing.

You might also enjoy: What Is Introverted Feeling?

Extraverted Feeling (Fe):

Extraverted Feeling is the primary judging function of ENFJs, ESFJs, INFJs, and ISFJs

“Honestly, I just want everyone to get along and for no one to be sad and for myself to be quietly falling apart in a dignified, likable way.”

Fe, contrary to rumor, doesn’t hate small talk. In fact, it often enjoys it. The ease. The low-stakes friendliness. The gentle rhythm of “How are you? I’m good, you?” It’s like conversational stretching. A warm-up for real connection. A way to check in, sync up, smooth the social terrain like buttering toast no one asked for but everyone needed.

When it works, Fe lights up. Eye contact! Shared smiles! A little inside joke that forms in real time and now it’s ours! It leaves the interaction feeling buoyed, relieved—“Oh good, we’re okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. The world is not entirely broken.”

But when it doesn’t work? When no one else picks up the slack? When Fe walks into a room where everyone’s socially short-circuiting and no one seems capable of asking a basic human question?

Now Fe is on duty.

It becomes the designated emotional firefighter, dashing between awkward silences and people drinking their wine too fast, trying to distribute lightness and affirmation like oxygen masks in a pressurized cabin. It’s smiling like its life depends on it (it does). It’s mentally splitting into four people at once—encouraging, including, diffusing, validating—while possibly also trying not to cry into the spinach dip.

And the problem? It doesn’t want to complain. Because complaining about carrying the conversation would ruin the mood. And Fe would rather die of inner resentment than ruin the mood.

How Fe avoids small talk:

• Redirects with a smile and leaves you with someone else. “Oh! Have you met Sarah? You two both… exist.” Boom. Social handoff complete.
• Uses humor. Charm. Strategic oversharing. Turns a flat “Hey” into a moment of levity because dead air is a hostile environment.
• Mentally checks out while still performing social gestures. Nods. Smiles. Reacts with “Oh wow” and “Right?” on autopilot. Inside? Gone.

How Fe genuinely enjoys small talk:

• There’s reciprocity. Someone asks them how they are, and actually listens. Someone smiles back like they mean it. Someone laughs at the joke because it’s funny, not just to be polite.
• The vibe is warm. Relaxed. Everyone’s comfortable and willing to do their part in the social contract.
• There’s connection. A sense of shared humanity. “You get me. I get you. We exist in this moment together and it feels… nice.”

Fe doesn’t need small talk to be profound. It just needs it to be human. And not just a performance it’s doing while everyone else watches and forgets to blink.

Because at its core, Fe isn’t fake—it’s devoted. Devoted to the mood, the bond, the collective breath of the room. It’s trying to keep everything stitched together with empathy and eye contact. And sure, it might fall apart afterward. But if you smiled? If the group felt seen? If everyone left feeling even 3% less alone?

Fe will call it a win. Even if it cried in the car later.

You might also enjoy: What Is Extraverted Feeling?

Introverted Thinking (Ti):

Ti is the primary judging function of INTPs, ISTPs, ENTPs, and ESTPs.

“I like talking. I just don’t like performing human engagement rituals with no clear objective.”

Ti walks into small talk like it’s a social experiment it never consented to participate in. It wants to be polite, it really does, but small talk is often full of vague phrasing, unclear intentions, and meaningless pleasantries—all things that make Ti feel like it’s being smothered with a decorative throw pillow embroidered with the words “Live, Laugh, Love.”

For INTPs and ISTPs, small talk is endured with the quiet panic of someone caught in a software update they didn’t authorize. They’re running a silent cost-benefit analysis: Do I engage? Do I nod? Do I try to say something, or will that trap me in five minutes of unreciprocated eye contact and a sentence that goes nowhere?

They’ll do it. They’ll say the lines. But inside, they’re fantasizing about being home in their Thought Cave, taking apart a belief system with tweezers or rebuilding their carburetor.

Meanwhile, ENTPs and ESTPs? They’ve got Fe in the passenger seat, and they know how to use it.

ENTPs will charm the room with outlandish hypotheticals, weird jokes, and bold claims that they may or may not believe just to see who bites. Small talk becomes a trampoline for bigger, weirder ideas. You mention your cat, and suddenly you’re debating the ethics of genetically engineered animals.

ESTPs? They’re storytellers. Showmen. Rogues. They’ll do small talk, but it’s got to move. It’s got to hit. They’ll talk about the time they got into a bar fight in Prague or how they used a drone to chase off raccoons from their garage. But if you bore them? If the conversation slows down? They will start texting someone else mid-sentence. No shame. Time is real and you’re wasting it.

How Ti avoids small talk:

• Takes out phone, stares at it with purpose. Not doing anything. Just pretending to type so no one starts talking about mortgage rates or reality TV.
• Tries to steer it into an area of interest.

“Oh, you mentioned coffee—have you ever looked into the chemical breakdown of roasting temperatures and their impact on flavor profile?”
You haven’t. They have. Please sit down.

• Starts questioning the premise.

“What do you mean by ‘nice day’ exactly? Like temperature? Sunlight? Vibe? I just want to be clear on what we’re measuring here.”
Congratulations. The conversation is now a thesis defense.

How Ti actually enjoys small talk:

• It leads to deconstructing something. A good theory. A half-baked concept to pull apart and reassemble into something cooler. Things like time travel ethics, AI cognition, or how to turn a Roomba into a jetpack.
• There’s room for ribbing. Light sarcasm. A little deadpan banter. If they can poke holes in your logic and you don’t get mad, they respect you forever.
• Someone’s genuinely curious. They ask how something works and actually listen. Boom. You’ve just unlocked Ti’s monologue mode.

Ti doesn’t want to “shoot the breeze.” It wants to trap the breeze in a jar, analyze its molecular structure, and then use it to build a better ventilation system. If small talk gets them there? Fine. But don’t expect warmth or polish. Expect something real, something unexpected, and possibly something that makes you rethink how bridges are engineered.

Extraverted Thinking (Te):

Te is the primary judging function of ENTJs, ESTJs, INTJs, and ISTJs.

“I’ll small talk, but only if we’re walking somewhere with purpose while we do it.”

Te has a task list in its head at all times. Even in social settings. Even at baby showers. Even while waiting in line for ice cream. So when someone starts a conversation with “Crazy weather we’ve been having,” Te’s brain immediately scans for relevance. Is this prelude to a plan? A pitch? An ask? Or are we just exchanging sound waves for sport?

If it’s the latter, Te begins shutting systems down to conserve energy.

Te doesn’t hate people. It just wishes they’d streamline their damn interactions. Start with the action item. Tell me what you need. Give me a summary. We can talk about the weather if the weather is attacking your house and we need to fix it.

The thing is, Te can do small talk. Especially ESTJs and ENTJs. They’re often socially competent, curious, funny even—but efficient. They’ll ask how you are, but they already have a segue planned. They’ll compliment your shirt, but it’s because they know it will grease the wheels of whatever conversation needs to happen next.

INTJs and ISTJs both treat small talk like a mildly contagious rash: tolerable if necessary, but ideally avoided through strategic distancing and preventative measures. They know the rules. They understand the system. They can play the game—especially for people they care about—but they’re not thrilled about it.

INTJs are scanning the conversation for signs of life: is this going somewhere meaningful? Is there an insight to be gained? A problem to solve? A chance to pivot into a deeply specific topic like neuroplasticity or the collapse of global infrastructure? If not, they’re smiling politely while internally organizing their exit strategy.

ISTJs, meanwhile, are a little more grounded—they want the conversation to be useful. Give them a good tip on how to clean grout with vinegar, or bring up an interesting story that relates to one of their favorite childhood movies and they’ll be interested…for a little while. But if it’s just empty air and vague social noise, both types will start to visibly shut down.

How Te avoids small talk:

• Immediately makes it task-oriented. “Oh hey, good to see you! By the way—are you still doing graphic design? I’ve got something I might need your help on.” Smooth. Ruthless. Productive.
• Takes over the conversation and redirects it into something practical. “Okay okay, great. So. Who here knows where the drinks are?” Conversation hijack complete.
• Fakes a time constraint. “Hey, sorry—I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to jump on a call / pick up a kid / file a legal document / repel down a cliff. What’s up?”
  This isn’t rude. This is Te’s version of mercy.
• Does the polite “I’m listening” face while mentally scheduling grocery runs, reorganizing their inbox, and developing a five-year plan for their latest start-up.

How Te actually enjoys small talk:

• It’s leading somewhere. Someone has an idea. A goal. A shared problem that needs fixing. Let’s do something. Let’s solve problems. Let’s build.
• The person is sharp, concise, and funny. Not wasting time, but still engaging. Bonus points if they ask interesting, direct questions like “What’s something new you learned lately?” or “What’s a project you’re working on now?” Now that’s a conversation.
• It involves logistics. No joke—Te likes talking plans. Trips. Systems. “Here’s how I hacked my meal prep.” “This app changed my life.” “Let me tell you about my folder system.” They live for that.

Te doesn’t want to be rude. They just want to be useful. And if small talk is going to happen, it better either strengthen an alliance, solve a problem, or at the very least not last more than seven minutes.

Because Te is busy. Even when it’s not. And if you waste its time with aimless rambling, it will still smile at you—but it will also start calculating how much more efficient your entire life could be if you had just led with your point.

What Do You Think?

So—how do you survive small talk without setting anything on fire (emotionally or otherwise)? Drop a comment below and let me know which function in your head does the talking… and which one is quietly planning your escape route.