My phone rings a lot. I’m a professional, so I answer it. That’s what you do. It could be a client. It could be someone interested in working with me. It could be something important. So I pick it up. “Hello?” And nine times out of ten… Nothing. A pause. A click. Then: “Hello, this is Jennifer calling about your eligibility for—” Click.
Or someone wants to buy a property I don’t own. Extend the warranty on a vehicle I don’t have. Loan money to a business they know nothing about. Fix my Google listing. Save me from the IRS. Or inform me of some financial catastrophe requiring immediate action involving gift cards.
And somehow they all seem to be calling from a perfectly ordinary local telephone number.
Aargh.
For years, every one of those calls irritated me. Not terribly. Just enough.
That’s the interesting thing about little irritations. They don’t ruin your life. They just take a tiny bite out of it.
Ring. Bite. Ring. Bite. Ring. Bite.
Until one day I decided I needed a better story.
Meet My Imaginary Businessman
In my imagination, I created a friend. Very successful businessman. Great guy. Then he was in a terrible accident. He became quadriplegic. Couldn’t run his company anymore. The business collapsed.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t created much of a financial backup plan for himself. Things got pretty rough. But eventually somebody found him a job.
They positioned him comfortably in front of a computer. The computer watches his eyes. Every time he blinks… it dials another telephone number. And he gets paid a nickel.
That’s it.
Blink. Nickel. Blink. Nickel.
Then one afternoon my phone rang. I answered. There was that familiar little delay. Immediately I knew. Robocall. And instead of getting irritated, I thought:
God bless him. He made another nickel.
Click. I hung up. And smiled.
Nothing Changed
That’s the ridiculous part. Absolutely nothing changed. The calls didn’t stop. The telemarketers didn’t suddenly develop manners. Nobody removed my number from a database. The technology didn’t improve.
My phone still rings. I still answer it. I still hang up.
The only thing that changed was the little movie playing inside my head. And somehow… that was enough.
We Do This All Day Long Anyway
Human beings are meaning-making machines. Someone doesn’t return our text. We make up a story. Someone looks at us strangely. We make up a story. Traffic stops. Story.
Someone walks past without saying hello. Story. Our spouse gets quiet. Oh boy. Story.
Most of the time, we don’t even realize we’re doing it. Something happens… and our mind supplies the meaning.
The fascinating part is that the first story isn’t necessarily any more accurate than the second one.
So if I’m going to make something up anyway… why not occasionally make up something that makes my life better?
I’m not suggesting we ignore reality.
-
- If something needs attention, give it attention.
- If someone is taking advantage of you, deal with it.
- If you can block the number, block it.
This isn’t about becoming passive. It’s about noticing those little situations where nothing useful is accomplished by becoming irritated.
That’s where imagination can become surprisingly practical.
You Don’t Have to Change Reality to Change Your Experience of It
Sometimes we spend enormous amounts of energy trying to rearrange the world so that we can finally feel better. And sometimes that’s exactly what needs to happen. But occasionally the world doesn’t need rearranging. Maybe the story does.
The crying baby on the airplane? Maybe Mom hasn’t slept in two days and she’s doing the best she can.
The person driving ridiculously slowly in front of you? Maybe he’s carrying a wedding cake.
The cashier taking forever? Maybe it’s her first day.
The person who forgot your name? Maybe they’ve remembered 300 other people’s names this week.
Are any of those stories true? I have absolutely no idea.
That’s not really the point. Neither was the irritated story I was about to tell myself.
We get to participate in the meaning we assign to ordinary life. That’s a remarkable little freedom. And sometimes all it takes is a ridiculous imaginary friend sitting in front of a computer somewhere…
Blinking.
Working hard. Trying to make ends meet.
So these days, when my phone rings and I discover another completely useless solicitation on the other end, I don’t have to surrender even thirty seconds of my day to irritation.
I just hang up. Smile. And think:
There you go, buddy. Another nickel.
Call me anytime.