After Price leaves the dinner party at the end of the first chapter, "April Fools," Patrick confronts his girlfriend Evelyn. Patrick is "fairly sure that Timothy and Evelyn are having an affair," but given Patrick's own infidelity, he does not seem especially disturbed about it. In fact, he thinks Price is "the only interesting person I know," and, ironically, tries to convince Evelyn to just go for him instead. But Evelyn rebuffs Patrick's statements by responding with a telling hyperbole:
“Why don’t you just go for Price?”
“Oh god, Patrick,” she says, her eyes shut. “Why Price? Price?” And she says this in a way that makes me think she has had sex with him.
“He’s rich,” I say.
"Everybody’s rich,” she says, concentrating on the TV screen.
“He’s good-looking,” I tell her.
"Everybody’s good-looking, Patrick,” she says remotely.
“He has a great body,” I say.
“Everybody has a great body now,” she says.
Patrick confronts Evelyn demurely, listing Price's virtues: he is rich, good-looking, and has a great body. But as Evelyn astutely describes, "everyone" has all these qualities. Due to the appearance-obsessed world of Wall Street bankers, everyone they know has impeccable grooming and fitness—and lots of money.
Of course, not everyone has these qualities, even if everyone that Patrick and Evelyn spend time with does have them. Patrick and his friends all try to be richer and better than those around them, so in this striving environment it would be literally impossible for everyone to be good-looking and rich. But, as often shown among the elite set shown in the novel, everyone must have these qualities, lest they be mocked and ostracized. Evelyn's hyperbole in this moment thus gets to the heart of their social situation: because everyone is perfectly manicured and fabulously wealthy, these aesthetic perfections become boring, repetitive, and meaningless.
In the chapter "Deck Chairs," Patrick has dinner at the titular "California classic" restaurant with Courtney, as well as Anne and Scott Smiley. Anne wants a rum and Diet Coke, but Patrick recommends forcefully that she choose Diet Pepsi instead. His hyperbolic reaction is shocking:
“You should have the Diet Pepsi instead of the Diet Coke,” I say. “It’s much better. It’s fizzier. It has a cleaner taste. It mixes better with rum and has a lower sodium content.”
The waiter, Scott, Anne, and even Courtney—they all stare at me as if I’ve offered some kind of diabolical, apocalyptic observation, as if I were shattering a myth highly held, or destroying an oath that was solemnly regarded [...]
Patrick interprets the reaction of everyone present as extreme shock. This seems patently ridiculous since Anne and Scott are always especially genial and, in any case, this is such a benign statement that no one could react to it in the way Patrick imagines. But, because of Patrick's first-person narration, it is unclear what the rest of the characters actually think. Patrick's delusions and intense social difficulties make him an unreliable narrator, clouding the reader's view of what actually goes on around him.
Patrick gets wildly upset about the whole situation: "'Listen,' I say, my voice trembling with emotion, 'have whatever you want but I’m telling you I recommend the Diet Pepsi.' [...] for a moment think I’m going to cry; my chin trembles and I can’t swallow." This hyperbole shows the absurd depths of Patrick's need to aesthetically monitor, critique, and control the world around him. Perhaps Patrick's panic is darkly funny here, but his strongly-held beliefs on how people ought to act are directly connected to Patrick's thoughts on which people do or do not have value, and deserve to live. As a result, this hyperbolic panic gives an unsettling glimpse into how Patrick chooses his murder victims throughout the novel.
In the chapter "Killing Dog," Patrick tries to get Courtney to come to a dinner. Frustrated that she has other plans, Patrick leaves his apartment to go shopping and checks his mail on the way out of the building. He determines, with hyperbolic fury, that he missed a flier about a sale:
Vaguely disappointed, I made a few more calls, but only halfheartedly, opening today’s mail while doing so, and I finally hung up in midsentence when I came across a personalized reminder from Clifford, the guy who helps me at Armani, that there was a private sale at the boutique on Madison … two weeks ago! [...] dwelling over this loss while wandering down Central Park West somewhere around Seventy-sixth, Seventy-fifth, it strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.
Patrick guesses, out of nowhere, that the doorman probably took the card intentionally to annoy him. It is hard to believe that this actually happened, but Patrick seems convinced. Even if it did happen, this is a relatively minor inconvenience that nonetheless shows to Patrick that "the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place." Patrick's misanthropy causes him to believe that everyone is out to get him, even when there is no evidence to believe such a thing.
Patrick does not recognize that his own actions, as a violent misogynist, rapist, and serial killer, are certainly more "bad and cruel" than withholding an envelope. Indeed, it is in this chapter that the reader first sees Patrick’s violent outburst, when he kills an old gay man's dog on the street. Patrick has plenty of clothes and eventually got the letter from Clifford anyway, and yet the doorman's supposed thievery, to him, seems worse than his own actions. This hyperbole shows Patrick's twin delusions: that everyone in the world is "bad and cruel," and that he alone can act with impunity.