This is a lie . . . No it isn't

Okay. I am addicted to radio shows. That’s why I started with “okay.” Because Ira Glass, for instance, from This American Life, frequently starts with “okay”, as do the guys from WNYC’s Radio Lab before launching into some profoundly improbably weird story (like a scientist developed a gene-spliced pig with a human arm), which actually turns out to be true, and they can prove it with all kinds of experts on-hand, who all happen to somehow have these soothing radio voices just like the host. I don’t know why that is, but I wonder if perhaps everyone has a soothing radio voice somewhere inside that is just lurking there, waiting to be used. It’s a public radio standard, seemingly.

Anyway, I mention this because this first blog is about a true self-revelation that I may or may not have reached due to a show on Radio Lab. That is, I reached the revelation, but it may or may not be true. It was a show about liers. Some scientists (there are always scientists) did a study whose aim was to detect compulsive liers. They took a sample of people who they took from temp agencies—because they figured temps were likely to be social outcasts who lied a lot (no comment)—and asked them embarrassing questions. Like: have you ever enjoyed your bowel movements? Have you ever had a rape fantasy? Things where they figured these are social universals and anyone who answered no was lying. Now, especially with the second question above, there is bound to be a great deal of controversy over whether or not these things are social universals, but anyhow, for the sake of moving forward, let’s just assume there was some measure of accuracy to this study. They scanned their brains and expected to find that the “compulsive liers” (they found a lot) would have less “white matter” which is the part you use to think and reason. Actually they found that they had more. Further studies showed that “compulsive liers” actually tended to be more successful, happier people and, among sportsmen, were the winners and high-achievers. The conclusion being something like—the ability to lie to yourself about the improbability of succeeding against the odds helps you to press forward and actually do it.

So I couldn’t help noticing that, according to their definition of a “compulsive lier”, I am one. I didn’t used to be one. I would say that actually I used to be a compulsive truth-teller. Then somewhere along the line there were three things that switched around--

First, I realized that in the attempt to give the absolute truth, you can give too much information. People don’t necessarily want the whole truth; it isn’t necessary. Your personal trainer asks you to fill out a form about your physical state, he wants to know if you have sore muscles or a knee problem. He doesn’t need to know about your urinary tract infection. No. Your boss wants to know why you will be late to work on Friday, she wants to know you have to meet with your landlord. She doesn’t need to know its because your roomate’s dog somehow got itself shut in the bathroom and panicked, destroying everything in its path and leaving the place with the stink of bowel and deep gouges in the woodwork, and now there is hell to pay. No. So, I learned to selectively give out just the right amount and type of information.

From there, came the second step, where I realized that all reality is subjective, and the information you select to give out is really your interpretation of the situation or event . . . so why not interpret things to your own advantage?

Sometimes, after telling about some experience of mine, I will realize that I missed some parts that were very true and would have made me look better in the story, but I didn’t take them seriously, or I thought they weren’t important. So I started being aware of how to tell a story so that I come out looking very experienced, if that is what I am trying to accomplish, or looking like a total buffoon, even if I wasn’t, if that is what will make people laugh, or seeming terrifically adventurous or insightful, or whatever. In the same way that I can make myself look bad by interpreting the information from an insecure standpoint, I can also do the opposite by just thinking “how would a truly self-confident person tell this story?” And that is perfectly fair and honest.

Why not, instead of saying that you design clothing at home in your spare time, and occasionally consign items that you don’t want anymore, say that you have a design studio with items for sale in local boutiques? I consider that to be just a matter of putting your best foot forward. Other people, who really really aspire to be designers, may do exactly the same things you do, but if they take it seriously, they call it a studio. If they take the consignment shop seriously, they call it a boutique, which, strictly speaking, it is. So which is true? They both are. It’s just a matter of how seriously I decide to take myself and my work. So that was the second thing-- speaking in a way where I put my best foot forward.

Now, the third thing, which made me realize that I may be a little more over on the edge toward lying . . . maybe. Well, I am often switching careers and trying new things. When one does this—I don’t think I am the only one, after all—one has to sort of REALLY REALLY put one’s best foot forward. Like I want to get a job doing something I have never ever done before, but I’m quite sure I could do it if I got a chance. Well, I think of everything I’ve ever done pertaining to it. Let’s say its raising tropical fish—just to save me from any future prosecution. I once saw a tropical fish while swimming on vacation in the Caribbean. I can put, you know, that it was a scientific expedition based on viewing such and such fish, conducted by an American university cooperating with the Caribbean authorities. The American university is, ahem . . . me, as I was in college at the time. And I had a visa, so that is a Caribbean authority and, having a keen interest in tropical fish, I discussed my fish observations with numerous persons there at the resort, one of whom was a scientist. He turned me on to some scientific studies done on the fish and their habitat, which I looked up online. That’s research. And I can state some facts about the fish to back up my research. After all, I am not going to use this resume to apply to be the head of the damn San Diego aquarium, I just want to get my foot in the door on an entry-level thing. So that’s called REALLY REALLY putting your best foot forward.

Well, and I want everyone to not miss this paragraph-- I am pretty firmly entrenched in my various careers at this point, and I don’t need to REALLY REALLY put my best foot forward anymore, career-wise. But I noticed, upon updating one of my (many) resumes, the other day, that one of my sort-of lies, aka RR-best-foot-forwards, was still on there. And I didn’t want to take it off. It was such an excellent and positive interpretation of what had otherwise been a miserable and unprofitable experience, that I was kind of in love with it. The only thing that made spending a year in a terrible place—getting sick, breathing pollution, and attending the crappiest school in the universe—actually a wonderful experience was the fact that I interpreted it on my resume as something, let’s just say, truly grand. It wasn’t, but it might have been. And no one would ever know the difference. Ever. No one would ever know about how I had REALLY REALLY REALLY put my b.f.f. There was no way at all to check the information, yet no one ever doubted it. It didn’t qualify me for some special job, or imply that I had skills I didn’t have. It just added color. I left it on my resume. I am in love with my own lies. And I’m okay with that.