by Phil Goldstein | NorthFortyNews.com
There’s an old comedy routine that goes something like this: Patient – “Doctor, it hurts when I do this.” Doctor – “Then don’t do that.” This is funnier when you hear the late Henny Youngman deliver the joke, but to me it anecdotally speaks to the need for adapting.
There’s a more empirical approach to this subject as well. In 1999, social scientists David Dunning and Justin Kruger wrote that people with deficits in their knowledge or expertise lack the ability to recognize those deficits. Therefore, despite continually making errors, they think they’re performing competently even though they’re not.
Put simply, poor performers aren’t capable of recognizing the shortcomings in their performance, hence they don’t adapt. This cognitive bias has become known as the Dunning-Kruger effect.
I believe I have adapted of late, in matters of both lessor and greater importance. For example:
I’ll no longer suffer fools gladly. It just took me a while to perfect my patronization.
I don’t lose sleep anymore wondering why baby aspirin is 81 mg, not 80 or 82.
I’m no longer fighting anyone else’s battles for them. That’s partly because most people who say they want to rock the boat aren’t willing to pull the oars themselves, but mostly because I’ve got enough battles of my own to fight. I also now know that when seeking allies for some common cause, ‘One for all and all for one’, often means every man for himself.
I’m playing less pickleball and more drums these days. All it took for this extracurricular shift was a third pickleball-related surgery in two years versus experiencing an audience’s ovation for nailing my first public performance drum solo.
Recognizing that no good deed goes unpunished, I no longer accept invitations seeking my professional expertise in volunteer service capacities when I’m certain my counsel will go unheeded. Besides, if I’m not contributing, I lose interest immediately.
Twenty-five years of marriage has brought much adaptation opportunity, especially in discourse. For instance, rather than expressing an opinion and then asking hers, I innocently raise the issue, ask what she thinks, then concur. And rather than answering, “Whatever you think, Amy” to inquiries, it’s safer to say, “Why don’t you suggest my response, and I’ll go with that.” Lastly, I’ve learned that “or not” is always the prudent follow-up to any suggestion I make.
I’ve especially adapted over my 14-plus years serving on the Town of Timnath’s Planning Commission in how I respond to residents on some matters, namely, what not to say if I want to keep my job. For example, often a resident asserts that nothing should be built on the open space behind their home because their realtor told them it couldn’t happen. I’ve learned not to suggest that the next time they relocate, they should rely on a community’s publicly available comprehensive plan rather than the word of a commissioned salesperson. And when a resident complains about the continued rapid growth of the town, I wouldn’t dare ask if they’re implying that it was alright for them to move here, but now we should just ‘pull up the drawbridge’.
Finally, when it comes to credibility, I’ve learned that when anyone says, “I know for a fact…,” they usually don’t.
I lost a lot of sleep earlier in my life because I failed to adapt. And while I suspect that sleeping better is an ironic byproduct of the cognitive bias theorized by Dunning and Kruger, I’m glad I eventually overcame this particular shortcoming.
Be well, everyone.
Phil Goldstein is in his fifth year of writing Tales from Timnath for North Forty News. Phil is a 14-year Timnath resident who is finally using his West Virginia University journalism degree after getting sidetracked 52 years ago. The views expressed herein are Phil’s only. Contact him with comments on the column at [email protected].