When you see people who are struggling in life, you probably feel an urge to help. You might talk yourself out it, because you have your own problems, or you don’t know how to help in any lasting way, or there are just too many people in need. But you have the urge to help those less fortunate. It’s in your DNA. You’re good people.
On the flip side, when you see people who are happier than you, your natural urge is to guide them back to the average. For example, if you have a coworker who breezes through his own workload and uses the spare time to enjoy himself, your natural impulse is to ruin his day by dumping some of your work on him. You call it “teamwork,” and there’s no denying it boosts productivity, but that’s not your motivation. At some fundamental human level, you want the people who are happier than you to dial it back a notch. It’s in your DNA. Sometimes you’re not good people.
In my corporate career, I had a happy coworker who taught me how to defend against this tendency in others to thwart the happiness around them. With people he trusted, he revealed his happiness, and flaunted the fact that his job was easy and stress free. But when anyone outside the inner circle approached, he started complaining like a pirate caught in a steel trap. He had lots of old-timey phrases like “up to my ass in alligators” and “stomping out fires” and “slogging through the swamp.” To hear him tell it, life was one long turd sandwich. Each misery led to the next. He would keep it up until the threat of teamwork passed. By the time he was done with you, all you wanted to do was help this poor bastard any way you could. I was slow to adopt this method, but soon learned it was the only way to protect my little nugget of happiness. It was a godsend.
For the first six years of my cartooning career, I kept my full-time job at the phone company. I told people it was for the money, or the stimulation, or the fodder. Those factors were important, but the main reason was to disguise my happiness. I knew that if did nothing but happily doodle for a few hours every day, and got paid, the thwarters would come out in droves. I told people I worked seven days a week, and every holiday (which was true), but it wasn’t as painful as it sounds. It turns out that as soon as you don’t need to be working for financial reasons, the stress of your job dissolves, and it starts feeling a lot like a hobby.
In retrospect, I think my perceived pain is what helped make my first book, The Dilbert Principle, a #1 best seller. It was a humorous book about my workplace unhappiness, and people reflexively wanted to help lift me up to the average happiness. so they bought my book. The book got great reviews, but there are plenty of good books that don’t become best sellers. My story had just the right amount of pain to put people on my side.
Lately, as a semi-famous cartoonist, it has become harder to appear unhappy to others. 99.99% of the world would switch jobs with me if they had the chance. Now the most common comment I get when I mention my new book on this blog is “Aren’t you rich enough already?” My perceived happiness is working against me. Humans aren’t wired to make happy people happier. We’re wired to bring happy people back to the average.
With that in mind, I have modified my marketing for my new book. First, I should point out that researchers have discovered that people’s happiness has a “set point” that doesn’t change much no matter the external circumstances. So buying my book won’t make me any happier in the long run. (I’m fairly certain that’s true.)
Second, consider what happens with every dollar that goes to me at this point in my life. I live an embarrassingly modest lifestyle. No yachts, no second homes. I dress like a blind hobo most of the time. My biggest extravagance is using a new can of balls twice a week when I play tennis. So an extra dollar for me will help fund the 401K for some guy who puts the fuzz on Dunlop tennis balls. (That’s an actual job.)
At this point in my life, realistically, every incremental dollar I make will flow to fellow citizens who would otherwise be below the average happiness level. I have enough money for my own purposes, unless I start buying golden slippers for the cat. So rest assured that if you buy my book, STICK TO DRAWING COMICS, MONKEY-BRAIN! your money will not contribute to my happiness in the least. But it will flow through me and indirectly help a wide variety of wretched souls who are below average in happiness. You could give money to the needy directly, but then you wouldn’t have my book to read. You deserve a little something for your kindness.
I pay the maximum tax rate. I have no mortgage deductions, no tax shelters. Over 40% of my earnings go to fund your Social Security, provide valuable services for children and the elderly, and make our men and women in uniform safer. But if you don’t think any of those people deserve more happiness, just forget I brought it up.
Did that work?
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