How to Use Antisocial Cues

They're easier to pick up

We’re a bunch of animals.

We dress up in our logoed polos and sip from our Stanleys and drive our touch-screen-mobiles and curate our charcuterie boards and do a million other things, forgetting that we are, in fact, just glorified apes.

We may be at the top of the food chain, but we’re still bound to our primal needs.

A critical one is the need to belong, to be part of a society. That means we have to follow rules and maintain consideration for other members of our tribe.

When someone steps out of line, they’re corrected. If you watch a video of two chimps brawling in a jungle, the only difference you’ll see from a video of two dudes brawling in a bar is that the bar fighters have less hair. Unless it’s a Greek bar.

But not all unpleasant behavior deserves a beatdown. There are more subtle points to living in a society too. This is where social cues come into play.

Very often, though, these don’t work. There are a few reasons for that:

1. Some people aren’t very good at reading social cues.

2. Some people are very good at ignoring social cues.

3. Some people are unable to recognize social cues because they’re on the autism spectrum, from a different culture, or some other valid reason.

For our purposes, we’re focusing on only the first two: people who obviously do, or should, know better. By my calculations, sometime around 10 years ago, they started to multiply. It’s for them that the time has come to introduce a new technique: antisocial cues.

Noises off

There you are, sitting on a bus or at a cafe, and some guy strolls in having a conversation on his mobile via speakerphone. He’s talking so loudly that he’s clearly mistaken his cell phone for a tin can attached to a string.

You and those around you deploy the international social cue for this situation: you look at him with a “Really?!?” glare. Those looks bounce off him like rubber bullets.

You tried. Now it’s time to play the game according to his rules.

Let’s call him Greg and the person on the other end of the phone Phil. Walk over to where Greg’s sitting and stand behind him if you can. Then lean over his shoulder so that your head is next to his.

Your conversation will go something like this:

Greg (to Phil): “Hey, hold on a second.”

Greg (to you): “What the fuck are you doing?”

You: “What are we talking about?”

Greg: “What? Get away from me, you psycho.”

You: “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not want the rest of us to be part of your conversation? See, I’m confused, since you’re braying like a fucking donkey and have the other guy on speakerphone.”

Phil: “What’s going on?”

You: “You, on the phone—what’s your name?”

Phil: “Phil.”

You: “Hi, Phil. I’m just explaining phone etiquette to your jerkoff friend.”

Greg: “Fuck off.”

You: “Don’t talk to Phil like that.”

Phil: “Wait, what?”

Then you walk away.

Variations of this technique can be used when confronted with jackholes blaring music with no earbuds, shitbags talking in movie theaters, and dickweeds whistling in public.

It was nice not talking to you

Have you ever been held hostage in a parking lot?

I once ran into an acquaintance, John, outside of a bank. John is one of those people who talks at you, not to you, which is why I shuddered when I saw him. He’s a nice guy but so long-winded that I think of him as “Johnny Santa Ana.”

We caught up for a few minutes, by which I mean he caught me up on himself. Then, after a glance at my watch, I said, “Well, it was great seeing you.”

“You too,” he said, then continued talking without any sign of slowing down.

I fidgeted for another minute or two before looking at my watch again and saying, “Well, I really have to go.”

“Okay,” he said, and kept talking.

By now I was seething. But I stood there for another couple of minutes with my arms crossed and an annoyed look on my face.

Then I started walking to my car. He followed me like a stray dog that I’d just treated to a French fry. He talked as I opened my door. He talked as I sat down. He talked as I started the engine.

At that point in my life, I was concerned about coming across as rude, even when someone was being rude to me. What a sap I was. Walking to my car was the right move, it just took me way too long to do it.

There are few more blatant signals than walking away while someone’s talking, but he ignored even that. So a better option, which I encourage you to try, would be to interrupt the person and say, “You’d better move, or I’m going to run you over.”

The beautiful thing about this is its ambiguity. The person could interpret it as either a threat or concern for his welfare. So if it’s the former, you have plausible deniability.

Another tactic, which is especially useful if you’re on foot, is to walk closer until you’re nose to nose with the person and whisper, “I said. I have. To go.”

Then, of course, walk away.

Conversationus interruptus

Let’s say you’re at a party. You’re talking to a friend and the discussion veers into a personal area. Though you’re in a roomful of people, you feel safe because everyone else is preoccupied with their own conversations.

Then your fucking brother-in-law Roy butts in.

Both you and your friend look at him uncomfortably. Your body language is standoffish.

Roy: “What are you two talking about so seriously over here?”

You: “Something serious.”

Roy: “Don’t let me stop you.”

You: “You already did.”

Roy: “Ha! Funny. Have you guys tried the pineapple? It’s so good.”

You see, Roy is an idiot. He thinks you were joking, even though he was the one who pointed out how serious you looked. It would never dawn on him that you wouldn’t welcome his intrusion. Now he’s infected your conversation with his social leprosy.

Fortunately, there’s an antisocial cue that even Roy can’t miss.

Roy: “What are you two talking about so seriously over here?”

You: “Something serious.”

Roy: “Don’t let me stop you.”

You: “We won’t.”

Then you and your friend walk away.

TMI time

Some situations are a little more sensitive.

For instance, I used to work for a large company. I’d been there for a few years, but it was my first day in the corporate communications department, and I was excited about this next step in my career. I was setting up my desk when a new colleague introduced herself.

Within 10 minutes I’d learned about the problems that led to her hysterectomy. At best, I could only be considered a gynecological hobbyist, so I didn’t have much to contribute.

Another time, a business associate from a different company, whom I barely knew, pulled me aside at a work function and told me awkward, intimate details about the divorce he was going through.

These are just two of what have been many cases where strangers made me wish I’d spontaneously combust.

In every case, my body language was such that I was folding in on myself like an origami crane, and my responses consisted solely of “Oh” and “Really?”

Those cues weren’t cutting it. But this is where my go-to strategy of walking away fails me. You can’t just turn tail and saunter off when someone’s waxing nostalgic for her uterus.

Just kidding. Of course you can.

I’ve come up with a few escape plans. Obviously, which one you incorporate will depend on the particular circumstances.

1. First, you’re going to want to work on your ability to cry on command. Then, when you find yourself held captive by an over-sharer, get a little misty and say, “I’m sorry, this is just hitting a little too close to home.” You know what comes next: walk away.

2. While the near-stranger is regaling you with tales of the abuse they suffered as a child or how they just gambled away their kid’s college fund, wipe your brow and start fanning yourself with your hand. About a minute later, gently place a hand on your stomach, as if you just felt a strange rumbling. Wince. Quickly cover your mouth, make a retching sound, and haul ass toward the bathroom. If it’s around a corner, you don’t even have to go in. Just keep walking away.

3. This one’s tricky and should only be used as a last resort. Drop to the ground like a dead drone. Decide which joint you want to blame it on, knee or ankle, and treat it gingerly as you stand back up. Then say something like, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. My (joint) just gave out. I should probably excuse myself and go get some ice.” Then limp away.

Cue it up

Social cues are only useful if people pick up on them. But they’re less effective than they used to be. My theory as to why? Açaí.

I’d never heard of this alleged fruit until like 10 years ago, and then suddenly everyone was stuffing it into their face holes. This was right around the same time that more people started becoming unable to decode the meaning of a watch-glance or exaggerated yawn. The timing’s suspicious is all I’m saying.

Still, social cues remain our first line of defense. You have to give people the chance to respond to them. If they don’t, you now have another option with antisocial cues. They’re the best way I’ve found to antisocially distance yourself from someone.