We all walk around carrying a kind of invisible script that we play depending on who we are talking to or the situation we're involved in.
You talk to a friend one way, your boss another. You don’t speak to a cop the same way you speak to your barista. And you probably don’t crack jokes with a stranger who just pulled a knife on you. (Well, unless you're me.)
These scripts are social shorthand. They help us navigate complexity, manage relationships, and get through the day without reinventing ourselves in every interaction.
But here’s the unsettling thing I’ve been thinking about lately:
- It’s not just how many scripts you have.
- Though it also IS how many you have.
- It’s also which ones you use—and why.
Because some people only seem to know two:
- Be charming when you want something.
- Be cruel when you don’t.
And here’s the kicker:
You don’t need a list of their misdeeds to know something’s off.
You can feel it.
They don’t seem to see you. They see what you can be to them.
Their kindness is calculated. Their cruelty is casual.
Their empathy, if it exists at all, is leased—not owned.
What makes this kind of behavior—transactional kindness, shallow scripts, fake empathy—so skin-crawling is that it masquerades as decency. Unlike overt crimes, which we can easily condemn, this kind of moral emptiness hides behind smiles, compliments, and politeness. It’s the predator in a suit, the manipulation behind the mask.
It creeps under the skin because it violates something more primal than law: trust. We feel deceived on a human level, like we've been seen not as a person but as a tool. That kind of subtle, cold calculation evokes a deeper unease than open hostility—because it pretends to be safe, while hollowing out the core of human connection.
We have some national leaders today this reminds one of. Which relates to another blog of mine about one of them currently in the media day in and day out as if it were a mental condition (and it is).
The Binary Mindset of the Self-Serving
This is the psychology of moral shallowness: a binary worldview where people are either useful or expendable.
- They smile at you if you're a ladder rung.
- They step on you if you're not.
Their scripts are fast, effective, and emotionally empty—just enough to keep the game moving.
- Suck up to those with power
- Step on those without
- Cry victim when caught
- Blame the mirror when the mask slips.
Sound familiar? If it does, congratulations: you still have a functioning moral compass.
Not All Badness Is Loud
We tend to associate “bad people” with dramatic behaviors—violence, corruption, hate speech. But sometimes, badness is subtle. Structural. Baked into how someone views others.
It’s the person who never says the racist thing, but never challenges it either.
The person who gives generously—but always for credit, or leverage.
The one who’s kind to your face but never curious about who you are.
It’s like being friends with a vending machine. You push a button, you get a smile. Push the wrong one? Cold air and silence.
And we know it. Even if we don’t say it out loud, something in us recoils.
It’s not just what they do—it’s what they lack:
- Moral depth
- Relational integrity
- Any interest in people they don’t need
Why We Call Them “Bad”
It’s not because they break laws (though some do).
It’s because their worldview breaks trust.
- Because they reduce others to objects—tools, threats, or trophies.
- Because their niceness is a transaction.
- Because you’re never entirely sure they won’t throw you under the bus if it benefits them.
And some of them do it smiling.
Closing Thought
You can learn a lot about someone not by how they treat their allies, but how they treat the powerless, the inconvenient, or the irrelevant.
Anyone can be nice when it gets them something.
But someone with real depth?
They’re human to you even when you have nothing to offer.
Compiled with aid of ChatGPT
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