We all want to believe the best about people—especially in parenting circles where we see each other at school pick-ups, birthday parties, and weekend games.
Most folks are lovely but a few, though, wear “nice” like a costume.
On the surface they smile and gush; underneath, they’re grinding their teeth.
I learned this the long way round, first in my old office job and later in the whirl of family life.
What helped most was paying attention to quiet signs—the small, consistent tells that don’t make a scene but do tell the truth.
If any of the patterns below ring a bell, you’re not crazy or over-sensitive.
Let’s walk through the subtler signals I watch for—and what to do about them:
1) They say compliments that come with sand in the shoe
You know those compliments that should feel good but don’t? “That color is surprisingly flattering on you,” or, “You’re so articulate—for someone who didn’t go to grad school.”
It’s praise with a side of pinch.
The words are sweet, the aftertaste is bitter.
Back in my office days, a colleague used to congratulate me for “finally catching up with the times” whenever I learned a new software trick.
Everyone laughed. I laughed too, until I noticed I only felt small around him.
You feel reduced even when someone is “being nice.”
What’s going on? They want the social credit of kindness while still keeping you under their thumb.
It’s control disguised as courtesy.
Call out the impact without a fight. A simple, “That sounded like a dig—was that your intention?” works wonders.
It puts the weight back where it belongs: on their choice of words.
2) They mirror you, but it’s a beat too late
Healthy people naturally mirror each other—tone, pace, even posture.
It’s what helps us connect.
Pretend-nice folks take mirroring and turn it into performance.
They adopt your opinions, hobbies, even your slang—after you declare them.
At first it looks supportive but, after a while, it feels like a delayed echo.
With one playground acquaintance, I noticed she never volunteered an opinion first.
She’d watch my face while I spoke, then agree or “love” the same thing.
When I shared a different view in a new group, she shared that view instead.
No spine of her own, just an appetite for approval and a wish to stay close enough to track me.
Test for authenticity by asking open questions and sit in the silence.
People who are performing rush to fill gaps with agreement; people who are genuine will share a take that occasionally diverges from yours.
You don’t need conflict; you just need an independent signal.
3) They test your boundaries under a blanket of kindness
Here’s a favorite trick: “I insisted on bringing an extra casserole and I already dropped it at your house—no need to say thanks.”
Sounds generous, but now you owe them.
Next week they want you to “quickly” volunteer for the fundraiser because “you’re such a natural.”
The kindness wasn’t a gift; it was a down payment.
I’ve seen this in parent groups a dozen times: Once, I agreed to help collect money for a class present.
Before I knew it, I was also managing the spreadsheet, crafting the card, buying wrapping paper, and arranging delivery—all because the “helpful” person who volunteered me kept saying, “Don’t worry, I took care of it for you…so you can finish the rest.”
As I covered in a previous post about boundaries, kindness without consent is often the beginning of pressure.
A real friend asks, “Would this be helpful?” and accepts a no.
Thank true kindness and resist the hooks.
Try, “I appreciate the thought. Next time, check in first. I can’t take on anything I didn’t agree to.”
If they pout, then you know.
4) They make their empathy selective and strategic
Notice when someone’s warmth shows up—and when it doesn’t.
Pretend-nice people are often magnificent in public.
They can pour empathy like honey when there’s an audience or when helping benefits their image.
But in private, when there’s nothing to win, they harden.
I had a neighbor who would loudly defend me at group meetings—“Tony’s got a point!”—then in one-on-one moments, she’d dismiss my concerns as “overthinking.”
The switch flipped depending on who was watching.
In front of the crowd, I was worth standing next to. Behind closed doors, I was an obstacle.
If you’re co-parenting, pay attention to how someone treats your child when other adults are near.
Some folks perform affection like a monologue.
The moment the stage lights dim, they withdraw.
Kids feel that whiplash keenly.
Measure consistency; you don’t need people to be perfect, but you do need them to be even.
5) They go mysteriously quiet when you share your good news
When something lovely happens—your kid overcomes a challenge, your project sings—true friends glow with you.
Pretend-nice folks often disappear.
They change the subject, delay responses, or offer a tepid “nice” and pivot to their own tale.
One of my grandkids worked hard to make the swim team and I shared the news in a group chat.
Most friends reacted with joy yet one person, who usually posted entire paragraphs about her dog’s new raincoat, sent a single thumbs-up and then a link to her garage sale.
It seemed that my highs triggered her silence. Her kindness returned only when I had a problem she could analyze.
Sometimes they will congratulate you in public—but privately, they go cold.
That’s because public praise earns them points, while private joy costs them comparison.
Don’t chase enthusiasm and let the quiet be its own answer.
If someone can’t meet you in joy, keep your milestones for those who can.
6) They make jokes that always seem to land on your soft spots
“Just kidding” is the favorite parachute of the pretend-nice.
They’ll poke exactly where you’re tender—the aging joke, the parenting jab, the career dig—and then grin.
“Don’t be so sensitive.”
As the old line goes, “Many a truth is said in jest.”
When my hair started going silver, a friend liked to call me “Gandalf” every time I forgot a name.
Once is funny; fifteen times is a message.
The punchline wasn’t the joke—the punchline was my discomfort.
He enjoyed the power more than the play.
In families, this shows up as “teasing” children about their bodies, fears, or quirks.
We think we’re toughening them up and that we’re teaching them to accept barbs from people who claim to love them.
That’s not resilience; that’s conditioning.
Turn the dimmer up on your own dignity, like “Hey, I don’t joke about that. Pick another topic.”
You don’t need a courtroom argument, you just need a boundary stated plainly—once, maybe twice.
7) They manage your reputation, not your relationship
This one’s the quietest and the most costly.
The pretend-nice person will “check on you” through others.
They’ll spread little concerns dressed as care and recount your private frustrations to a third party “to get advice.”
These people may even defend you publicly while drip-feeding your mistakes into the grapevine.
On the surface, they appear loyal.
Underneath, they’re staging the narrative so they always look like the reasonable one.
By the time their story winds back to you, it sounds like a community conclusion rather than one person’s campaign.
A parent I know discovered that a school-gate acquaintance had been messaging other parents about her child’s “energy levels” and “focus issues.”
She found out only when a kind soul forwarded a screenshot.
The culprit’s response? “I was trying to help you get support.”
No, she was trying to build a stage where she could be the helpful star.
Shrink the circle and don’t feed gossip with fresh details.
If you must respond, be factual and calm: “I don’t discuss my family’s private matters outside our home. If you have a concern, bring it to me directly.”
Then disengage—you don’t win back a reputation by wrestling with a puppeteer because you can win by becoming un-puppetable.
Closing thought
Ask yourself three questions after you spend time with someone:
- Do I feel larger or smaller?
- Did I learn something real about them—or only share about myself?
- If my child copied this person’s style of “kindness,” would I be proud?
If you keep landing on “smaller,” “I did all the sharing,” and “I’d wince,” you’ve got your answer.
The world doesn’t need more “nice” because it needs more good.
Good is quieter, sturdier, and it doesn’t wilt when no one’s watching.
What’s one small boundary you could set this week to make room for the good people—and the good in you—to breathe?
