Spoiler
Last-minute homework assignment. I'm scared to read what I wrote.
How many times have you found yourself at a party where the only people you even slightly know are the host and some far-removed fifth cousin, and with neither to be found, you edge yourself to the group fidgeting on the couch, open your mouth, and come off as absolutely, undeniably smooth? And how many times have you been pointed out and laughed at by your so-called friends for your absolutely incorrigible eloquence and sociability, no matter how you try to shirk the title? Here, then, is a guide for those unfortunate souls branded as artful, adroit, and elegant (there’s no need to be embarrassed) to the fine art and necessary skill of, well, in short, awkwardness.
For the sake of time and space, let’s abridge our instructions to the three most important points. Remember as you are reading that there is no use in only understanding the theories if you don’t put the knowledge to practice—in other words, don’t talk the talk without walking the walk.
One: First things first—take everything to the extreme.
Exaggerate. As a dabbler in brusqueness, this should be your mantra. Forget about the easygoing, well-oiled mannerisms that mark you out as “graceful” or “refined”. When a kindly looking socialite at the aforementioned party offers you a try at his or her homemade potato salad (“home-grown, kosher spuds!”), exaggerate—take two generous, squelchy heapings (or as much as the plate can bear), then thrust your face into that of your amiable benefactor, and proclaim from the depths of your diaphragm, “WHY, THANK YOU MOST GRACIOUSLY, MY JOLLY FRIEND. YOU MUST HAVE HEARD THE RUMBLINGS OF MY DIGESTIVE SYSTEM FROM LIGHTYEARS AWAY.” Then proceed to make small-talk of whatever subject that can come to mind—the architecture, the date, the pastiness of the salad—because, of course, you must show off your gratefulness in the most extreme manner possible. A few jokes (yes, you should try too hard) wouldn’t hurt either—“Why do potatoes make good detectives? They must keep their eyes peeled!”
If, suppose, you would prefer not to strain your vocal cords so much, there is no need to worry. It is also possible to exaggerate in the other extreme—the uncouth are rather versatile. The same socialite now comes to you asking if you would mind helping him take a picture with his fellow potato-munching friends. You are feeling apathetic and would rather not take up the request—but instead of just easily differing—dramatize your indifference. Ignore the camera that the good fellow is offering to you and instead take a good stare into the depth of his eyes. Don’t allow your mouth to utter a single sound. Put on a wry smile if you find it necessary. Roll your eyes as far as they may go. If you can succeed in making the man leave, then you have learned exaggeration well—the sign of a successful oaf is the ability to make others feel as ill-at-ease as you do.
Two: Know the norm—and divert.
Key to making others feel uncomfortable is throwing them in situations that they would be ill-suited to deal with. Language choice is one way. Diction (as you might know it from your AP Language classes) can be utilized fairly easily to play to your needs. Start small: Go to your history teacher, and start asking him questions relating to factorials and derivatives, using terms that only a math textbook would contain. Once mastered, make this a habit—adopt a manner of speech, with its particular sentence structures and jargon, whether it be Shakespearian, Quaker-like, Jedi-like, or utterly Instruction Manual-esque, and make it a habit to speak thus, especially if it is entirely out of context with your surroundings. Once the tactics in terms of speaking are learned, diverting from the norm in other manners will be (to use a hackneyed phrase that absolutely does not belong in an AP assignment) “a piece of cake”.
Three: Be conscious--
--of everything. Including the piece of Romanian lettuce wedged between your partner’s two front teeth, the acne making little constellations across his or her face, the way his or her munching on the referenced salad sounds particularly loud in the awkward (congratulations!) silence. And make sure your partner is conscious of these things too—by kindly giving them the hint by gazing absorbedly at whatever trouble spot there may be. For advanced gauche-masters, the subtle art of pretending to not notice might be an even more effective way of causing fidgeting in your very amicable partner.
With all this said, once again, it is important to “put your knowledge to the test”. The author wishes the trainee all expediency—may the world claim another exemplar of awkwardness to its ranks!
well this is a lame review, but great job!
