This is a continuation of the series that looks at examples of playing with people 's heads during a confrontation in order to allow you to get out of there.
The tactic used here will be continued in part four.
A few years ago, I was walking in town with a guy I know - “C”.
C is older, in his late 70's. 5'9” and medium build.
Walking past the bakery to cross the street there is a car parked, engine idling in the middle of the road at an angle. The occupants seemingly taking their time discussing something.
We have to pass and cross, so go to walk behind the car (left to right side) to reach the pavement.
The car suddenly reverses.
C puts his hand out instinctively and makes contact with the boot as the brakes slam on.
“Careful! There's people crossing!”
Perhaps having read too many Steven Pinker books and despite being the veteran of previous less than friendly encounters with members of the younger generation – one in particular where a youth told him he needed to be “put in a fucking coma” for being in the way of an opening car door, C is projecting his world viewpoint here and for some reason fully expects a highly apologetic tone and respectful resolution in response from the driver of the car, because that's what reasonable people do isn't it.
Isn't it?
The driver's door flies open and the driver, “Badboy”, bursts from car.
Late 20's, large athletic build. Money, hair, clothes, watch...the obligatory “beautician type” girlfriend in the passenger seat turned staring through fake eyelashes with a face like the proverbial bulldog that chewed the wasp.
It's like a budget, West Country version of The Fast and The Furious!
“You touch my car cunt?
I'll fucking knock you out!”
He steps forward...
Before C had a chance to mismanage the situation, I stepped between them, hands out in front in a control position (ready to hit the guy if he comes forward and blocking his access to C).
I don't want to fight – this will go badly for me.
Really.
Badboy is staring, wide eyed, adrenaline. Arms splayed, chin jutted forward. Thug frown.
There's a key moment in confrontations I've experienced where the first aggressive scripting has started and the aggressor (some not all) needs you to say something equally aggressive back in order to continue to the physical stage.
If you can insert something completely opposite to expectation at this moment, you have a window of confusion from them that can possibly be exploited.
“It's all a mistake!”, I said (open expression, friendly, as though I'm on his side and complaining about something other than an event involving the three of us) and pushed C back out of the road and towards the pavement.
You could see Badboy's adrenaline visibly drop into a look of hesitancy – I'd managed to appear so out of context with my open expression, tone of voice and script that he was in a moment of doubt about what was actually happening.
There he was, in his fashion jeans, in the middle of the street, people now watching, with only his aftershave to help him figure this out.
What was the mistake?
Whose mistake was it?
You could literally see it on his face.
I wasn't fighting,
I wasn't upset,
I was leaving.
Had he made a mistake?
This made no sense and his adrenaline was hindering his ability to problem solve.
I reinforced this doubt straight away.
“Thanks mate, nice one man” I cheerfully say with an appreciative nod and smile as though he's just done something really positive.
I push C away, by the arm further down the pavement before he can break the spell with a complaint.
“Keep walking!”
The door slams behind us, engine revs, screech of breaks and the car speeds past us towards the junction ahead. Windows open, I can catch a glance of Badboy looking even more angry and confused.
I can hear the girlfriend shouting at him “What the fuck's going on?”
Don't ask him , he hasn't got a clue.
This sounds like an excellent way to diffuse a situation and to avoid unnecessary blood being spilt… I’m thinking this idea could potentially also be used to create a small window of opportunity with which to mount a swift and effective attack if the situation called for it.
That’s hilarious and horrifying all at once. You paint such a vivid picture, I can just see it.
I can’t help wondering how you think that might have played out if you hadn’t been there? The question I really struggle to answer is how an athletic Badboy in his late twenties could countenance attacking a man in his late 70’s? I don’t mean because it’s the wrong thing to do, but because it’s so not tough, so unbalanced, so not what you could brag to your mates about….