Have you ever wondered why you have those experiences when you are in the middle of a supermarket wondering where they moved the sparkling water after the fourth layout change in two years when, suddenly, someone turns up the volume, temperature, and ambient lighting as you get a strange feeling in your head like your brain has just been dematerialised by the Star Trek transporter, leaving you having a partial out-of-body experience in a state of blank panic and confusion?
How about those endless musings on all those times where, despite living ten minutes away from work, and getting up at 6:30am in order to arrive at for work at 8:00am, time seems to contract and conspire against you to make you three minutes late, leaving you flustered and apologising to your clock-watching, finger-wagging manager who explains that this is the 30th consecutive late this year since the 1st of January, and it’s not yet February.
Or looking forward to socialising with your friends at the gig next week, only for gig day to arrive and suddenly your excitement disappears as you’re struck with an invisible force-field which suddenly prevents you from travelling anywhere, while simultaneously having a remote mind-control device attempts to convince you that staying at home is much more preferable than seeing your friends, and forces you to send a text to you friends saying you can’t make it tonight because you forgot it was your uncle’s pet budgie’s birthday and you cannot, under any circumstances, not go because he may literally die from disappointment if you don’t attend?
If so, this guide is for you.
The Nightmare of the Unexpected Social Encounter
You’re enjoying a pleasant stroll in the sun on your way to the park, decompressing after a stressful day, when just as you round the corner on the home straight, you bump into your chatty neighbour, who immediately initiates unscripted small talk.
You must access the “Social Small-Talk Protocol” file, but the system is frozen, and your neighbour is politely waiting his turn for you to fill the ever-increasing black-hole of silence.
While the main system tries to reboot, the Emergency Situation Backup System kicks in and calculates the appropriate level of eye contact, vocal tone, and conversational path simultaneously, resulting in a blank stare, and the involuntary blurting of “I’m good, how are you?” while your facial expression transforms into a combination of surprised looking eyebrows and an attempt at a friendly, but non-manic smile.
Your neighbour looks confused, and, just as your “Social Small-Talk Protocol” system comes back online you realise he had just told you his dog suddenly passed away and he was about to scatter his ashes at the park, hence the white plastic bag you now notice in his hand.
You feel the familiar rise of inner heat which would rival the sun’s surface temperatures on a “cold day” and notice that, simultaneously, all systems are about to shut-down and go offline, leaving you looking like a surprised, grinning idiot while tears well up in your neighbour’s eyes.
The Art of Strategic Escape
In such situations, time is of the essence. You need to act decisively before the systems freeze or crash. Here are three tried and tested solutions which have been around in one form or another since the Dawn of Humanity.
Solution 1: The Emergency Script Buffer
Always have three pre-rehearsed, generic, and time-limiting responses ready to deploy: one for positive situations, one for negative situations, and one for neutral/ambiguous situations, for example:
Positive Situation – “That’s fascinating! I’m actually timing myself to see how fast I can get home to check on the rate at which my newly painted walls have dried.”
Negative Situation – “Sorry to hear that. It reminds me of the time when I made toast and didn’t realise, I had run out of butter.”
Neutral/Ambiguous Situation – “What do you think of the hot and cold weather today?”
Solution 2: Prop It Up
If forced to remain, use a prop, such as holding a full cup of coffee, simulating a shaking hand, and nervously glance at it every 10 seconds.
It establishes a non-verbal countdown timer. Your neighbour will respect the imminent threat of a scalding spill more than your unspoken need for quiet.
Solution 3: The Nuclear Option
Gasp dramatically, taking a large amount of air into your lungs to reset your vagus nerve, which should give you just enough time to tell your neighbour you feel traumatised by his news as it reminds you of your dog which died and now you need to go home to engage in ritual mourning for several days as you walk off awkwardly as fast as you can while failing to stifle a chorus of inappropriate laughter.
Join us next month for expert advice on how to avoid the Trap of Accidental Friendship.