Posts from — February 2008

The most likely behavior to leave me agog is when a person or group continues to express overwhelming certitude in their abilities¹ even as overwhelming evidence of their utter failure² piles up. I wish this was a rare feeling for me, but examples abound:

• CEOs justifying their ludicrous business plans³ even as their companies go down the tubes.
• Neocon adherents continuing to assert that the Iraq War is not only essential to American security, but the crown jewel of American foreign policy.⁴
• Ralph Nader launches yet another presidential campaign because HE’S the guy to “get things done for the American people”? ⁵

Then I read this, and now I have three little words to say, rather than be dumbstruck: Dunning-Kruger Effect.

1. “Abilities,” here, should be read as broadly as possible to include achievements, accomplishments, strategies, plans, policies, or any other applicable brainchild.
2. Failure to lead, to direct or advance their goal or idea, or to accomplish their task. You get the idea.
3. Web “synergy” anyone?
4. Yes, Bill Kristol, I am looking at you.
5. C’mon! WTF?

One of the great joys of writing is that you rarely have to put on a suit.¹ There is no office dress code.² And since you are essentially a hermit,³ you can do all sorts of foolish things you might otherwise never do. Like grow a mohawk. It has gone the way of the dodo now, but for my non-local readers⁴ , it looked like this:

Sad, I know. And yet, it was totally a blast. It was amazing the amount of animosity this haircut generated in people I didn’t even know.⁵

Among the things that happened to me while bemohawked that had not happened before in my life:

1. I was asked for identification at my bank. Not for a withdrawal (where they always ask), but in order to be allowed to deposit money in my own account.

2. The most pleasant and jovial of store clerks, shopkeepers and cashiers routinely put on a scowl and begrudgingly accepted my filthy money in routine transactions.⁶

3. Followed by store security and given the twice-over by the po-po when walking around.⁷

As a little social experiment, it was very interesting to watch complete strangers get worked up over my hair. If you can get away with it yourself for a couple of months, I highly recommend it!

1. Or often, pants.
2. Or often, office.
3. Seen only by poor, beleaguered research librarians, a.k.a. the Patron Saints of Writers.
4. Some of whom expressed skepticism at this. Fie on you, nonbelievers!
5. People who know me, of course, merely sighed, felt sorry for my wife, wondered what was next on my “regressing to middle school” agenda, and tried not to stand too close to me in public–lest onlookers think we were friends.
6. Not every customer-service-type, but many–including ones with whom I have had only pleasant interactions with, both pre- and post-silly hairstyle.
7. And not the “look at that pathetic goofball trying to recapture his childhood” type twice-over, but the “I think you’re up to no good and I’d beat you with my nightstick on general principle if it weren’t for the damn Constitution and civil rights laws.” Former hippies, current skate punks–you know what I’m talking about, right?

Inspired by my friends who have expressed their irrational attachment to checking their email on their Blackberries, I thought I would don my behavioral scientist hat for a moment to explain why this is normal and natural…if still completely pathetic. ¹ The short version?

You are basically one of Pavlov’s dogs.²

Well, strictly speaking, you are not one of Pavlov’s dogs. Pavlov’s dogs had an involuntary response (saliva production), triggered by the sound of a bell. Previously, whenever the bell was rung, food was presented at the same time, and the dogs began to associate the sound of the bell with the food, and thus, the saliva.

You, on the other hand, you big ape, have been operantly conditioned by random positive reinforcement. I suppose it is an easier analogy to say that you have a gambling addiction, and your game of choice is the slot machines. Congratulations!

Your behavior (playing slots or checking email) is voluntary–unlike the dog’s–and only occasionally rewarded.³ You engage in the behavior more and more frequently. Mostly it is unrewarding, but occasionally there is that positive reinforcer giving you a little boost.⁴

So, there you go! You love your crackberry because you are a junkie robot slave to your environment! Any questions?

1. Though constant checking of your Blackberry is not nearly as pathetic as the conspicuous checking and responding of your Blackberry while in a meeting or conference talk. A former colleague–my boss’s boss, in fact–was notorious for doing this. Presumably he wanted to show how busy and important he was, though he was generally recognized by everyone in his field as among the most petrified of deadwood. Unless you are an on-call pediatric neurosurgeon or have responsibility for the safety of nuclear materials in the former Soviet Union countries, you are unlikely to be so important that you must constantly be in contact and able to respond. It’s the pompous posturing of those with terminal status anxiety. Do not become this person.
2. If, Kind Reader, you find yourself among those with a Crackberry problem, then read on.
3. The reward for a slots player is obvious–a jackpot. The positive reinforcement for your crackberry has more variants–by a funny email, message from a friend, or other yummy tidbit of information, whatever you find rewarding. Sort of like a junkie who doesn’t care whether they drink, shoot smack, smoke crack or pop pills. Not that you have a problem. Go ahead, take a minute and use your Blackberry to look up your closest 12-step meeting.
4. This behavior is actually more common than you think, albeit revealed in lesser ways. The classic example? You put your money in a soda machine, press the button, and nothing happens. What do you do next? You push the button a bunch of times in quick succession. Sometimes you get a soda, sometimes not. Apparently, we get a soda frequently enough that the next time the machine doesn’t work–bap, bap, bap!–we bash away on the button. Even if we don’t get a soda, the next time the machine doesn’t work? Bap, bap, bap! See? We’re apparently just programmable robots, trained by our environment.