There was an advert on TV when I was a kid that showed a woman in a bath overwhelmed with pleasure from a Cadbury’s Flake. The 1992 ad, depicting a glamorous white woman flooding her palatial marble bathroom for the sake of a budget chocolate bar (while a harp played in the background - obvs), would by today’s standards be considered unrelatable, unrealistic ..and unbelievably weird! In 2022, our relationship with ‘flakes’ has less to do with this (not even remotely bath-friendly) chocolate, and is more widely used to describe those who prolifically cancel plans.
I’d be very surprised if anyone reading this doesn’t have a flake or two in their life. Those friends for whom diarised meet-ups are etched in the faintest of pencil, primed for erasure on receipt of an inevitable text detailing ‘circumstances beyond their control’. Or perhaps we’re that friend ourselves, prone to over-committing our bouts of enthusiasm, only to wax and wane, like a social werewolf under the moon of our mood.
There are generally two camps on flakiness. Those who find it abhorrent - an indication of socio-deterioration and flimsy values - usually because these people would never cancel plans themselves. And those who accept flakiness as inevitable fall-out from our current cultural whirlwind - again, most likely because they’re known themselves to let the flake-flag fly.
It’s considered generational. In a recent study, 45% Millennials reported they didn’t see anything wrong with flaking, and that in fact, the average person will skip out on almost HALF their commitments. (Sigh!)..Yet another media-scalping for Millennials - the straddler generation that bridged pre and post-digital living, becoming the guinea pigs for how tech would go on to affect mental health, social relationships, and professional productivity.
Undeniably, our community landscape has shifted. Rapid, boundless and endless communication is now considered ‘normal’. We need instant gratification, and demand a plethora of choice in everything from food delivery to dates with strangers, which inevitably floods us with decision-overwhelm. We can barely decide what we want in the present moment, never mind anticipate how we might feel in a few days time.
It’s also just easier to wriggle out of something these days. Our phones provide an instant ejector-seat button without having to face or properly converse with the people we’re bailing on. Gone are the days where diarised events were carved on a tablet of stone, communication so sparse that to cancel plans would require yet another inked scroll, a messenger, and a waxed seal of apology. Now we’re all just one ‘sad face’ emoji away from cancelling plans any time we feel like it.
I’m not condemning flakiness, nor am I defending it. I think it’s an interesting and complex issue. Does it devalue the quality of reliability in social relationships? Yes. Does it contribute to our wasteful attitudes of disposability when it comes to other people’s time and/or importance? Yep, afraid so. But I find it reductive to chastise a generation who’ve been indoctrinated to rely on digital media, encouraged in every way possible to swap IRL communication for app-chat, and then expect them to neurally respond as if their attention was not consistently under attack. ..Of course grandad kept his dinner dates, he didn’t have an iPhone!
Admittedly, as part of the Millennial generation, I’ve been known to go the way of the Cadbury’s myself from time to time. I don’t think it’s necessarily something to be shameful of, as long as we’re mindful with ourselves about why we want to cancel, and honest and respectful to others in how we communicate that.
Statistics show that the generational rise of unreliability also parallels that of a rise in anxiety. And I would suggest that the former is yet another thing that feeds into the latter. We’re taught from a young age that lying is immoral, so no matter how we feel about skipping plans, if we do so with an untruth, our psyche registers that we did something ‘bad’, even if it feels a relief at the time. The seed of discomfort planted in our unconscious, if unattended to, can start to grow roots, manifesting in onset shame that we’re a ‘bad’ friend/colleague/family member/person. This is not helpful for anyone in that exchange, and will only prove a further barrier to real connection.
We tend to more readily judge behaviour based on our own standards or lived experience, rather than engaging our compassion and empathy to understand what might be going on behind-the-screens. One positive thing that emerged from the pandemic was the communal permission to say ‘I’m not OK’, ‘I’m overwhelmed’, ‘this is all a bit much today’. Feelings that we’ve all experienced yet would never say out loud were now in the collective discourse in light of the external chaos of a shared problem. Yet post-lockdown we’re still more likely to use physical illness, or an over-elaborate excuse for a no-show, rather than admit how we’re really feeling - and that we might just not feel mentally up for it.
We readily accept that our bodies get ill from time to time because we all talk about it. But we keep issues of the mind far more private despite the fact that feeling mentally unwell is as common as the cold. What we seem to have overlooked is that there are times when psychological rest and repair is critical to our wellbeing, such that to venture out would be like going dancing with a broken leg.
While I don’t condone letting people down or making ‘unreliability’ part of our personal brand, I do think it’s important to be honest with ourselves about the bandwidth we have for certain commitments. And that if, for whatever reason, we don’t feel well enough to do what we signed up for on any given day, we should be able to call in sick - but with reason, not excuse.
While our devices have become both literal and metaphorical screens to hide behind, flake-culture distances us further still. However, by taking responsibility for how we really feel, cancelling plans could be an opportunity for connection rather than rejection. A chance to share the generous act of vulnerability with another, and a demonstration of our respect for them through that honest disclosure.
The ease with which plans can change should not make us less accountable for how we engage with others. But a no-show needn’t mean no-respect. If we’re honest and open about what we’re experiencing, it can be a chance to deepen, rather than weaken, our relationship with another.
With the advertised chocolate bath-times of the nineties behind us, our reasons for flaking needn’t be hidden behind closed doors, social overwhelm flooding the marble floors of our mental washroom. If we can dialogue honestly with ourselves and others about what we need, we can remove the shame that drives us to dishonesty in our excuses.
Mental, just like physical health, will have its ups and downs. But our relationships can strengthen through mutual respect and shared vulnerability in the truth behind a cancellation. If we can remove the shame and judgement, and interact with honesty and authenticity, hopefully we can all become better connected, yet still take whatever time we need to truly enjoy being the crumbliest, flakiest generation in the world.
The Spin
We live in a digital landscape where everything is instant, abundant, and flexible. We can’t expect values and perspectives not to shift as a result.
We have the opportunity to be mindful of the screen between us and the rest of the world, and navigate it with respect and honesty.
Feeling unwell can be mental as often as it is physical. We should allow compassion for ourselves and others in the same way we would when someone catches a cold.
The most generous and courageous thing we can do in our relationships with one another is to show vulnerability. Opening up about what we’re really experiencing can deepen our connections, even if we having a flake-out!
Adding More Weight
How To Cancel Plans Without Being a Dick
Podcast: Where Is My Mind - Languishing with Adam Grant
How Your Flaky Friend May Have Gotten That Way
Option to Go Deeper
What’s your internal reaction when somebody cancels on you?
AND
What do you assume a person’s internal reaction is when you cancel on them?
Consider both in detail. How do they correlate? If you feel judgemental towards another person when they cancel, you might internalise that judgement when you require flexibility yourself, perhaps making you more likely to elaborate on your excuse.
If you feel relief, or generally ambivalent when others change their plans, you may also project this assumption out, anticipating that your actions will not have consequences, which can leave people feeling disposable.
It’s important to recognise when we are making projections or assumptions, as it imbalances the relationship, weighted by one side of narrative. A mutual open-ness where we are both active and receptive in honest communication allows trust to build and relationships to deepen - whether you’re flakey or not!