Performative Support

How to Be the Most Helpful Person No One Actually Wants to Talk To Or: The Art of Turning Kindness Into a Hostage Situation

Let’s be honest—you’ve met people like this. The kind of person who shows up to your crisis like a superhero in a poorly tailored cape, only to immediately start dictating the rescue plan from their high horse. Their “support” isn’t a lifeline; it’s a noose with a ribbon. You’re not helping them; you’re helping yourself feel superior while ensuring they’ll never forget how much they owe you. Welcome to Performative Support, where altruism is just a front for emotional landmines. The goal isn’t to uplift; it’s to ensure your recipients are so paralyzed by gratitude (and resentment) that they’ll never dare ask for help again—because they’ll know you’ll just use it as ammunition.

If you’re looking to master the dark art of making kindness feel like a hostage situation, this recipe is for you. The results? A social network where everyone is indebted to you, no one trusts you, and you can casually drop “I helped you once” into conversations like a badge of honor. Proceed with caution—or not. The world needs more people like you.

Performative Support

Yields: One Patron of Despair (serves 10+ reluctant followers)

Ingredients:

1 cup unsolicited advice (preferably delivered mid-crisis)
½ cup “I’m just saying” disapproval (seasoned with guilt)
1 large helping of passive-aggressive documentation (Instagram story, LinkedIn post, or a well-timed DM)
2 tbsp social debt (unpaid, but remembered at every opportunity)
1 dash of “I’m only doing this because I care” (the universal alibi for cruelty)
1 tsp learned helplessness (for the recipient’s emotional well-being)

Instructions:

The Unsolicited Advice Maneuver Wait for your friend to vent, then interrupt with a 10-point plan. “Oh, you’re stressed about your job? Here’s how to fix it—step one: quit immediately and move to a cabin in the woods.” The key is to turn their emotional pain into a spreadsheet. They’ll either cling to your “expertise” or resent you for making them feel like a project.

Pro tip: If they resist, lean in and say, “I’m just trying to help you see the bigger picture.” (Translation: “I’m trying to make you feel small so I can feel big.”)
The “I’m Just Saying” Clause Drop your most brutal critique wrapped in a bow of concern. “I’m only telling you this because I care about your potential.” This is your legal disclaimer for emotional sabotage. The recipient will either nod in agreement (and regret it later) or storm off, but either way, you’ve planted a seed of doubt. Bonus points if you follow it up with, “But hey, at least I’m honest.”
The Documentation Protocol After your “generous” act, document it. Post a heartfelt caption about how you “saved the day” or tag them in a LinkedIn update about your “impactful volunteer work.” The goal isn’t to share kindness—it’s to make sure everyone else knows how much they owe you. Their friends will see it, their friends will ask about it, and suddenly, you’re the hero of their social media feeds.

Optional: Add a hashtag like #KindnessIsContagious (it’s not, but your ego is).
The Indebtedness Ledger Remind them of your “favor” at the worst possible moment. “Remember when I helped you with that thing three years ago? Yeah, well, I was thinking about it today.” This isn’t a favor; it’s a reminder that they’re forever in your debt. The more they try to pay it back, the more you’ll “forget” to accept it. It’s like emotional blackmail, but with more napkins.

Note from the Chef:

“The hand that gives is always above the hand that takes. Keep your hand as high as possible.” —Me, probably quoting someone else while standing on a chair.

Conclusion: You’ve now mastered the art of making kindness feel like a hostage situation. Congratulations! Your network will be a mix of people who love you (but secretly hate you) and those who’ve learned to avoid you entirely. The best part? You’ll never have to lift a finger again—because everyone will be too busy feeling guilty to ask for help. Just remember: the more you “help,” the more you ensure no one will ever need you. And that, my friend, is the ultimate victory. Now go forth and be the most helpful person in the room—while everyone else quietly plots your downfall.