Pranksters, Practical Jokers and Other Bullies

 

From this title, it’s obvious I’m not a fan of this behavior. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of it from vast experience. (I refuse to call myself a victim; I won’t be anyone’s victim.)

Pranks and practical jokes are, in my opinion the lowest form of entertainment – if you can even call it that. It isn’t about laughing with someone, but laughing at someone.

Those who participate in pranks and practical jokes often think the person they’re trying to victimize has too high an opinion of themselves, and needs to be brought down a peg or two.

Actually, the prankster is the one needing to be brought down a peg or two. They think playing a practical joke shows that they’re smarter than the person they’re trying to bring down. It doesn’t. It shows what a bully they are.

When I hear of an actor who enjoys playing practical jokes, I immediately think less of them as a human being, and reconsider paying my hard-earned money to see their films.

Pranksters are those who thrive on adulation as well as the discomfort of others, often those they mistakenly call friends. Who would be friends with someone they can’t trust?

Is it really kinder to play a “joke” on someone than to say, “Hey, Ugly, come here,” and then take their lunch and stomp on it? I think not.

But pranksters don’t just pick on those they consider “above themselves.” They pick on those, just as other bullies do, who are less aware of the situation or who are shy or introverted.

“Hold my beer. Watch this. I bet I can get that person to…”

Yeah, right. What happened to being kind? You have no idea what that person has been through. Perhaps they’ve made some egregious mistake that they feel terrible about. Perhaps their pet or a relative has just died. They may have low self-esteem for a variety of reasons.

Does the prankster consider that? No, they do not; because they’re all about themselves and showing that they have the upper hand.

And why do people think it’s okay to behave this way? Most likely because we have so many TV shows glamorizing pranks and practical jokes. Actors brag about the practical jokes they’ve played on their colleagues.

Candid Camera started out as a sweet show where people sent in videos of their pets or small children doing funny but not embarrassing things. It quickly became acceptable – sometimes preferable – to send in videos of downright embarrassing episodes – the sort that makes any viewer with a conscience cringe – and even set up practical jokes.

From there other TV shows were spawned that ran with the idea, each trying to outdo the other with how obscenely mean they could be. Some even give money to the contestant who can play the biggest practical joke.

But what about the person on the receiving end? Does anyone consider them? They do not. If they don’t laugh, they’re being a poor sport, regardless of how mortifying the prank is.

They’re told they have no sense of humor if they don’t laugh off what may have wounded them deeply.

We hear all the time about people committing an act like Columbine because they were bullied, and sometimes the bullying is in the form of repeated practical jokes. There are also those who commit suicide for “reasons unknown.”

I’d be willing to bet those reasons are very well known. Some kids are very sensitive to teasing, including practical jokes. And the practical jokers get away scot free because the current mindset is that we don’t call people out for acts of viciousness. How dare you shame someone for that?

They were just kidding. It was all meant in fun. Lighten up.

That’s the same excuse given when someone makes a sexual or racist remark, especially as a punchline to a joke.

Probably because I’m an introvert lacking in social skills, I’ve been an easy mark most of my life. And I hate the fact that absolute strangers as well as those who know me and should know better feel entitled to insult me with their pranks.

The first such prank happened when I was four or five. My family was visiting my mother’s uncle and cousin. Her uncle had me sitting on his lap. At one point, he offered me a piece of candy. Now, I’d been taught not to take candy from strangers, and to me he was somewhat of a stranger. I also didn’t take anything from anyone without asking permission from my mother.

She told me I could have it, so I said, “Yes, please.” He immediately put it in his pocket and said, “You can’t have it.”

Who would do something so mean to a little kid? Although I didn’t have those words at that age, I felt humiliated for expressing a desire for something I clearly wasn’t entitled to, embarrassed that others saw the exchange, and betrayed by my mother, who, I thought, must have known he wasn’t going to give it to me.  Why didn’t she intervene? What lesson was she trying to teach me?

I got it loud and clear: Don’t trust people. Even the ones you know will stab you in the back.

I was told by others that he was kindness itself, and would never do anything to hurt anyone.

Perhaps if I’d cried, he might have understood. But more likely, he would have said, “I was just kidding.”

And I didn’t cry. I didn’t want to let on to anyone how humiliated I was. I didn’t want them to know he got to me. Unlike my bolder cousins, who would have gone digging in his pocket for the piece of candy – they were used to that kind of behavior, apparently – I accepted his refusal as a clear indication that I must be a bad person.

I got off his lap, and kept my distance for the rest of the day. Every time he tried to offer me that piece of candy, I said, “No thank you.” Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Even my so-called friends played pranks on me.

One friend insisted I was invited to her younger brother’s birthday party. I was about 10. I didn’t receive an invitation, and my mother questioned whether or not I was invited. Clearly, to everyone but me, I was not. But my friend told me I was, and I considered my word my bond. I expected no less from others.

So, at my insistence, my mother took me to buy a gift instead of refusing to allow me to attend a party to which I had no invitation. I arrived, gift in hand, to blank stares and his mother’s offhand comment, “What are you doing here?” I immediately knew my mistake, and wanted to run home to hide my shame.

But no. I had a gift. Entre enough. “Oh, that’s who the other chair was for!” came the sudden epiphany even I didn’t believe, and I was ushered in before I could make my escape.

I suppose anyone else would have quickly overcome their embarrassment and enjoyed the party. I could not. The knowledge that I didn’t belong there hovered around me like a cage. It was the worst party I ever attended. The party itself wasn’t bad. I simply had no fun and took the first possible opportunity to leave. I’m sure the others had a good laugh at my faux pas once I was gone.

And I never took that “friend” at her word again. Fool me once.

Even in college people saw me as the butt of jokes. My first roommate made my first extended time away from home a terrible experience by her pranks at my expense.

She took the opportunity of being away from parental guidance as an excuse to be as irresponsible as possible, and I did not. Her assumption that everyone should be that way made her want to teach me a lesson for simply being a civilized human being who went to bed when they were tired.

I’m a non-confrontational individual – being raised as “only a girl” and therefore without the right to speak up for myself or show anger because it wasn’t polite – how could I be expected to behave otherwise? I developed much more passive-aggressive ways of demonstrating my disgust with my roommate, who obviously already didn’t like me for no explicable reason. When she moved out of our dorm room at the end of term, I helped her pack.

There were many other instances. What’s sad is that, when I retell some of them, people often think they’re funny, and ask if I don’t find it amusing in hindsight?

Well, no. Humiliation is never amusing, even years later. Perhaps I have too much empathy both for my younger self and for others. I have ruined more than a few people’s pranks on others in order to save the receivers from embarrassment. I only wish the same had been done for me.

I consider practical jokers the lowest life form. It doesn’t take much intelligence be mean. And the fact that these people are willing to humiliate someone just for a laugh shows a lack of humanity. What next? Torturing animals? I’m sure Ted Bundy would congratulate you and maybe suggest that you didn’t go quite far enough.