sociology of awkwardness Archives - untypicable.

Breaching Experiments in the Wild: How to Cause Social Chaos with Minimal Effort

AJ Wright — Tue, 11 Mar 2025 10:00:00 +0000

Society operates on a thin, fragile layer of unspoken rules. You don’t stand facing the wrong way in a lift. You don’t high-five your doctor during a check-up. You don’t answer “How are you?” with anything other than “Fine, thanks”—even if your life is currently an absolute bin fire.

Most of us follow these rules without even thinking. They’re so deeply ingrained that breaking them—even in the mildest way—causes instant, visceral discomfort.

Harold Garfinkel, the sociologist who clearly thrived on human awkwardness, dedicated his career to poking at these invisible boundaries just to see what would happen. His famous breaching experiments involved deliberately violating social norms—things like acting like a stranger in your own home, haggling in supermarkets, or answering every question with another question—just to watch people’s deep, immediate panic when their expectations were shattered.

His work proves one thing: social life is built on a delicate web of silent agreements, and even the smallest deviation can send people into existential crisis. So, in the spirit of Garfinkel, let’s take a look at some of the simplest ways to cause absolute social chaos—without breaking a single actual law.

The Unforgivable Crime of Facing the Wrong Way in a Lift

Lifts are tiny, silent arenas of forced human cooperation. The rules are simple: enter, press your button, turn to face the doors, and pretend the other people in there do not exist.

But what happens if you turn around? Not subtly—fully, deliberately, so you’re staring at everyone else.

Immediately, you will see:

Someone pretending they haven’t noticed (they definitely have).
A few panicked eye-darts at fellow passengers to confirm that yes, this is weird.
A sudden, overwhelming tension as everyone collectively questions reality.

Nobody will say anything, of course. That would be even more socially dangerous than whatever it is you’re doing. Instead, the group will endure the world’s most uncomfortable silence, held hostage in a metal box of quiet distress.

When the doors open, they will flee like they’ve just escaped a hostage situation.

Garfinkel would be proud.

The Tragedy of Walking at the Wrong Speed

Walking is a deceptively complicated social performance. There is an unspoken speed limit, and everyone is expected to obey it—except for the occasional chaotic outlier, like a child on a sugar high or an old man moving with the urgency of a slow-cooked brisket.

Try walking just slightly too fast—not running, but moving with just enough intensity that people assume you’re either being chased or urgently need a toilet. Watch as they subconsciously move aside, suddenly alert to your presence.

Alternatively, walk too slowly and become public enemy number one. You will hear the distinct sound of passive-aggressive foot shuffling behind you, an entire queue of commuters building up in silent rage, cursing your existence.

The real horror, though, is accidentally matching pace with a stranger. You didn’t ask for this. Neither did they. And now, somehow, you have both entered a socially enforced walking partnership.

No one acknowledges it. You both pretend it isn’t happening. One of you has to deliberately slow down or speed up to break free—but who will crack first?

It’s a silent war, and Garfinkel would have been fascinated.

The Existential Nightmare of Answering ‘How Are You?’ Honestly

The question “How are you?” is not actually a request for information. It’s a polite script—a formal exchange of meaningless words designed to maintain social order.

The correct response is “Fine, thanks. You?” It doesn’t matter if you’re fine or not. This is not the time for personal revelations.

Now, imagine breaking the script.

The next time someone says “How are you?”, try responding with:

“Honestly? Bit of a crisis today.”
“Hurtling towards burnout, but thanks for asking.”
“Emotionally unstable, but otherwise thriving.”

Watch as their face freezes in horror. They weren’t prepared for this. You have forced them to engage with reality.

There are only two possible outcomes:

They panic and say “Oh… right!” before speed-walking away.
They mistakenly think you’re inviting an actual conversation. Now you’re trapped in a deep, unwanted emotional exchange in the queue for a Tesco meal deal.

Either way, society as we know it has been mildly shaken.

The Self-Checkout Psychological Experiment

Self-checkouts are meant to be a stress-free alternative to human interaction, but instead, they create new and innovative ways to experience public humiliation.

Try breaking the rules and handing your cash directly to the cashier standing next to the machine. Watch as they stare at you, momentarily confused about whether reality itself has shifted.

Or, instead of bagging your items immediately, pause after scanning each one. Just… hold it for a second.

The machine will lose its mind.
The security guard will start casually loitering.
The people behind you will visibly vibrate with frustration.

At some point, a staff member will appear, looking deeply unimpressed, and press the magical button that makes the machine forgive you.

You have disrupted the system. The self-checkout has no power over you.

Holding the Door for Someone Too Far Away: A Social Minefield

The art of holding the door open is a delicate social contract. The unwritten rule is: only hold the door for someone at a reasonable distance.

So what happens if you break this?

Hold the door for someone just slightly too far away. Watch as they:

Panic-jog towards you, unwillingly dragged into an awkward half-run.
Visibly debate whether to call out “Go on ahead!” but then realise it’s too late.
Arrive, out of breath, mutter a half-hearted “Thanks” and immediately resent both you and themselves.

You did nothing wrong, yet you have created mutual suffering.

Somewhere, Garfinkel is nodding approvingly.

The Accidental Social Crime of Saying Goodbye Too Soon

Saying goodbye is a one-time deal. You say it, you separate, you never see each other again (until the next unavoidable social event).

So what happens when you say goodbye, and then immediately walk in the same direction?

You both pretend this isn’t happening.
You try to make small talk to fill the awkwardness but end up making it worse.
One of you deliberately slows down to escape, but the other does the same, creating a tragic loop of social agony.

The only solution is to fake a sudden phone call or pretend to notice something very interesting in a shop window.

This is why humans weren’t meant to walk in groups.

The Art of Garfinkel

Garfinkel’s breaching experiments show us that most social norms are absurd, fragile, and entirely made up.

Even small rule-breaking—facing the wrong way in a lift, answering “How are you?” with honesty, or holding a door for too long—sends people into deep, visible distress.

And for that reason alone, he might be the most accidentally hilarious sociologist of all time.

So next time you want to inject a bit of harmless chaos into the world, just walk slightly too close to someone in a queue and watch them crumble.

You’re not being weird. You’re conducting science.

Please note: We will not be held responsible for the outcomes of anyone attempting these experiments. Try at your own risk!

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AJ Wright

AJ Wright is a quiet yet incisive voice navigating the surreal world of sociology, higher education, and modern life through the unique lens of a neurodivergent mind. A tech-savvy PhD student hailing from South Yorkshire but now stationed in the flatlands of Lincolnshire, AJ writes with an irreverence that strips back the layers of academia, social norms, and the absurdities of daily life to reveal the humour lurking beneath.

As an autistic thinker, AJ’s perspective offers readers a rare blend of precision, curiosity, and wit. From dissecting the unspoken rituals of academia—like the silent war over the office thermostat—to exploring the sociology of “neurotypical small talk” and the bizarre hierarchies of campus coffee queues, AJ turns the ordinary into something both profound and hilarious.

AJ’s unassuming nature belies the sharpness of their commentary, which dives deep into the intersections of neurodiversity, tech culture, and the often-overlooked quirks of human behaviour. Whether questioning why university bureaucracy feels designed by Kafka or crafting surreal parodies of academic peer reviews, AJ writes with a balance of quiet intensity and playful absurdity that keeps readers coming back for more.

For those seeking a blog that is equal parts insightful, irreverent, and refreshingly authentic, AJ Wright provides a unique perspective that celebrates neurodiversity while poking fun at the peculiarities of the world we live in. Also a contributor at Thinking Sociologically.

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Georg Simmel – The Patron Saint of Social Awkwardness

AJ Wright — Tue, 04 Mar 2025 10:00:00 +0000

Georg Simmel may not be a household name like Karl Marx or Max Weber, but his work is painfully relevant to anyone who has ever felt awkward in a social setting (so, everyone). Unlike grand theorists who tackled capitalism, bureaucracy, and revolutions, Simmel focused on something far more insidious: everyday interactions. Why do we make small talk when nobody likes it? Why do we pour our souls out to taxi drivers but avoid deep conversations with family? Why does city life feel both exciting and soul-crushing at the same time? Simmel saw these contradictions and dedicated his career to explaining why human relationships are simultaneously fulfilling and deeply, deeply weird.

Why Small Talk Exists (Despite Being Universally Hated)

Simmel argued that small talk isn’t pointless drivel; it’s a social lubricant that helps maintain relationships without requiring actual emotional investment. It’s why we talk about the weather when we could be discussing mortality, tax brackets, or why Greg from Accounting is insufferable.

Small talk is essentially a survival mechanism for modern life. It establishes that we are friendly but not too friendly, engaged but not emotionally dependent. It’s a way to acknowledge each other’s existence without risking meaningful connection. Think about it: asking “How was your weekend?” is safer than asking “Do you ever think about how fleeting and meaningless our existence is?” One gets a polite smile, the other gets you reported to HR.

But not everyone is good at small talk. Neurodivergent people, introverts, and people who just can’t be bothered struggle with this forced social ritual. If you’ve ever answered “How are you?” with an overly detailed account of your recent existential crisis, Simmel would have found you fascinating.

The Stranger Theory: Why We Confess Our Darkest Secrets to Uber Drivers

Simmel’s concept of “the stranger” explains why we sometimes share things with random people we’ll never see again. The stranger exists in society but isn’t fully part of it. They float on the edge of social groups, close enough to observe but too distant to judge. This is why you’ll spill your life story to a bartender but refuse to tell your mum how your job is actually going.

This phenomenon is particularly evident in travel. Ever met someone at an airport, bonded over shared flight misery, and within an hour, you knew about their failed marriage, childhood traumas, and bizarre hobby of collecting antique spoons? That’s the stranger effect in action. You’ll never see them again, so there’s no social risk in oversharing.

The modern version of this is, of course, social media. People will reveal their innermost thoughts to thousands of strangers online while maintaining an icy level of detachment from people they actually know. Simmel would have had a field day with Twitter.

Urban Life: Why Cities Are Both Exciting and Soul-Crushing

Simmel was one of the first sociologists to argue that cities fundamentally change how humans interact. Urban environments force us to engage with an overwhelming number of people, so we develop coping mechanisms to survive the sheer volume of social contact. This is why people in big cities are both highly social and completely indifferent to one another.

If you live in a small town, ignoring someone you know is a crime punishable by social exile. In a city, making eye contact with a stranger on the Tube is practically an act of war. Simmel called this the “blasé attitude”—city dwellers develop a thick emotional skin to avoid being constantly overwhelmed. This explains why Londoners don’t react to a man in a dinosaur costume skateboarding down Oxford Street, but in a village, it would make the local paper.

City life also forces us into bizarre social contradictions. We crave community but actively avoid unnecessary interaction. We are surrounded by people but often feel incredibly lonely. We want to be part of something bigger but also desperately need personal space. This tension is what makes city living both exhilarating and mentally exhausting.

The Duality of Social Life: Why We Crave Both Connection and Distance

Simmel believed human relationships are a constant balancing act between wanting to belong and wanting to be left alone.

We want close friendships, but also personal space. We want to be noticed, but not stared at. We want to be unique, but not weird enough to be shunned by society.

This explains:

Why introverts and extroverts constantly misunderstand each other.
Why working from home is both a blessing and a curse.
Why socialising is fun until you suddenly need to lie down in a dark room.

Simmel argued that modern life forces us into paradoxes—we are surrounded by people yet often lonely, connected yet detached, hyper-social yet exhausted by it all.

Why Simmel Would Have Been Great at Observing Modern Social Weirdness

If Simmel were alive today, he would have a field day with social media, remote work, and how we interact in digital spaces.

Social media is basically a giant urban environment—we interact with thousands of people, yet feel disconnected.
Online friendships follow his “stranger” theory—we reveal things we wouldn’t in person because digital distance makes it feel safer.
The workplace “LinkedIn personality” vs. the real you—Simmel would love to analyse why people write things like, “Excited to leverage cross-functional synergy!” when they mean, “This job is slowly killing me.”

The Rituals of Everyday Life: Why Everything We Do is a Bit Ridiculous

Simmel was fascinated by how even the most mundane parts of daily life are structured by hidden social rules. Consider the ritual of ordering coffee. There is a precise dance between barista and customer, a strict script to follow:

Approach the counter but not too aggressively.
Order, ideally without making eye contact for too long.
Stand awkwardly to the side while pretending to check your phone.
Retrieve your coffee, say “thanks” even if they get your order wrong.
Leave as quickly as possible.

Any deviation from this script—like starting a full conversation with the barista or lingering too long at the counter—immediately makes the situation uncomfortable for everyone. Simmel argued that these kinds of micro-interactions, while seemingly trivial, are the glue that holds society together.

Final Thought: Embracing the Chaos of Social Life

Simmel’s work teaches us that awkwardness, contradictions, and social paradoxes aren’t just quirks of personality—they’re baked into society. Humans are inherently contradictory creatures who want both intimacy and independence, community and solitude, connection and distance.

So, next time you accidentally overshare with a stranger, freeze during small talk, or feel weirdly detached from city life, just remember: Simmel saw it coming.