Cue: (v) anything said or done, on or off stage, that is followed by a specific line or action

The cues are off.

Somebody has stolen the script of human behavior and has messed with the stage directions so that we, the actors, do not know when and how to respond.

It’s subtle.

There was a time when someone in pain would cue empathy.

There was certainly a season when belligerence would cue disfavor instead of a bizarre outburst of admiration.

Do you remember a time when sitting by a fire would cue some intimacy or even singing without us feeling phony?

I’m telling you—the cues are off.

We used to rely on romance to cue sex.

Now we appear to hope that a well-planned calendar of sex will initiate romance.

A discussion of women’s rights used to cue men to consider the misogyny that still existed in them. Now such a conversation just makes guys get quiet—pretending to give a shit.

The cues are off.

There are fewer and fewer prayers of thanksgiving because there are too many prayers for victims of tragedy.

There is less holding of doors for others.

It’s become inexplicably important for us to enter first.

Free-flowing conversation among friends has turned into a chess match as we carefully pick our words so as not to offend or come across unenlightened.

Where is the cue that welcomed humility instead of the stiffness of foolish pride?

The cues are off.

Therefore the play acted out every day doesn’t seem to make sense. It fails to develop a plotline which leads to a story which gives us hope that the conflict in our second act can be resolved by the denouement. (Sometimes we even fail to get the cue to look up the word “denouement,” but instead, decide that the writer is too fancy.)

What are the cues?

How do we know how to be human beings on the stage unless we’re prompted to provide our best performance?