Some people out there on the Interwebz may think they have me beat when it comes to level of laziness, but while philosophers have debated it and researchers have mapped out a psychology of it, I've written the manifesto. And I aim to share it here.
Let's begin with this concept: if necessity is the mother of invention, laziness is its grandmother.
To whit.
I remember, at the age of seven, putting myself in "time out" after refusing to vacuum the living room.
There was no such thing as "time out" then.
The truth is I hid somewhere my mom couldn't find me because I was NOT going to vacuum the damn floor, and I wasn't taking yes for an answer. I was a little feminist even then, and I had challenged my mom on the fairness of her request by asserting that the boy next door wasn't expected to clean house, so I shouldn't be either. She countered, with suspiciously quick detail, about how he not only vacuumed, but, in fact, started with the edges of the room and then went over the carpet first horizontally and then vertically.
He was five.
I mean, c'mon, he couldn't even drive a Tonka truck straight and was constantly wrecking his Big Wheel.
Even if he had been capable of following that level of detailed instruction, he had a reputation for running around the neighborhood naked and showing up in the neighbors' unlocked homes, birthday suit and all, during dinner time...I assume for maximum impact. We were having beans the evening he showed up in our kitchen. As I narrowed my gaze, beans dripped out of my mouth one by one back into the bowl (because...duh...that was my first time to see a penis hanging around for all the world to see), my mom stood up and yelled, "What are you DOING?" and my dad continued chewing, slice of cornbread in one hand and spoon in the other, shaking his bemused head and softly giggling.
Not exactly my candidate for obedient child of the year. And definitely not the winner of the best vacuumer contest.
My point is this: my mother, I do love her, had this concept of a "productive child," what I will call a "contributing citizen" looked like, but I had different ideas. I carved out a ka-thousand hiding places because I valued contemplation, thinking out loud, and finding work that felt like play. Had she asked me to pick up all the fallen sticks in the yard, I could have made a game out of it because I loved (and still do) the idea of living out in the woods, off the land. Had she been willing to talk it out with a seven-year-old girl, we might have found a compromise. I would have gladly raked, cleaned the leaves out of the reflection pool built in the 1920s. I would have been happy dusting, organizing, taking out the trash. I just really didn't want to vacuum. And the reason is pretty simple: I don't like loud noises. It's not that they rock my world; I just find them extremely annoying and distracting. (Yes, I punned: "rockin' in the free world"). But my mom didn't think to ask why I really didn't want to do this one chore. So we couldn't compromise.
My theory is the greatest inventors started out like me: lazy to the bone and looking for ways to carve more time for loafing. We can use Thomas Edison as an example. What purpose did the phonograph really serve? It was a way for people to listen to music without actually leaving the house.
I rest my case.
Well, not quite. Edison should have been way more thoughtful about his project development plans. I'm sure the light bulb he built was a means to lie in bed reading comfortably without having to constantly twist his spine to position the book into the candlelight. Or maybe he foresaw that his improvements to the bulb would make the work day longer. I can't decide if he was stupid or evil. I, for one, do not make improvements so I can work harder and longer. Edison is not my hero, phonograph notwithstanding.
Frankly, we have the means right now to eliminate most offices, parking lots, and big-box stores. This would improve our quality of life and begin the process of reversing climate change.
The problem is we don't trust laziness. We've decided it's a character flaw and not the evolutionary adaptive trait it truly is. We value "hard work," "putting your back into it," "no pain, no gain." But, in order for all this work to count, someone must witness it or it didn't happen. We have to be seen in an office from 9-5 in order to be considered actually working during an era when we could just as easily do the work at home.
The cost of this is tremendous.
We commute, and in Arkansas that means one person per vehicle covering distances anywhere from 1/2 a mile (in my case) to 30 miles (in my husband's case) to upwards of 60 miles (in the cases of several friends and family members I know). That's time we spend away from physical activity (just wait, I define certain types of physical activities as "lazy" in another post), friends, family, and even getting work done for our jobs/careers. Think about it. We spend millions, maybe billions, of dollars heating and cooling, lighting, maintaining, repairing, and staying connected to the Internet at both our offices, which are empty at night, and our homes, which are empty during the day. Here's a fact: I teach online. I teach better online than I teach in a classroom, and I do it from my home after work. Yes, for-profit institutions of higher education have a bad rap and for good reason. But I can at least say my publicly funded state institution does it right. Good, productive work CAN happen online.
Once we stop measuring productivity by time spent at a desk and start measuring it by real data (for my online class that would be end-of-term evaluations, surveys, check-ins, how well students do in the class), we can eliminate the desk job, the commute, and its attending parking space.
The same goes with big-box stores. For months after it opened, I shunned our Neighborhood Market because I figured it was just "Wal-Mart Grocery Lite": the usual fodder for the common consumer. And I'm not the common consumer. I ended up shopping there one time out of desperation because I'm particular about grapefruit juice, and it was the closest store that might carry my brand. I couldn't believe it. The store was softly lit, quiet, and basically uninhabited. They carry everything I want, just in smaller quantities on the shelves, which makes choice (and, thus, decision making) incredibly quick and easy. Now they're advertising that store pickup (order and pay online, pickup at the appointed time and place) will roll out soon. They will still need the same number of employees, if not more, but they can cut their parking lot in half. That poor fella who corrals the carts in all the worst of weather can take on a new position that could lead to better opportunities: greeting guests with their bagged online purchases, a chance to interact and gain what we call "soft skills."
Have you ever walked across a black asphalt street or parking lot in the dead heat of summer? Have you noticed the temperature change between the asphalt and a sidewalk or the grass? If you haven't, pay attention next time you're out this season. We've identified many of the contributors to climate change and bitched about them, but most "experts" offer stupid solutions based on the suspicion that they will encourage laziness.
Among them is carpooling (because it ensures you're not only "bonding" with colleagues, but you're all engaged in getting to work in a timely manner). We've all had the experience of agreeing to a road trip with a group of acquaintances only to find out too late it was a trap. You know, the plan was to head out to Fayetteville for a literary festival, but first, "I have to drop by my brother's place," and then "Oh, I need to take in my dry cleaning." And 1/4 into the trip you discover everyone in the car is voting for the other party, and you start considering Ubering back home at the next pit stop. That's more or less what carpooling is like...except on a DAILY basis, and these are the reasons NO ONE wants to do it. If we had public transportation in small-town America, we would all be taking it because it would be so much easier to get away from NosePicker, FartKnocker, KnowItAll, and the boss who wants the cover sheets corrected on your TPS reports because "that'd be great."
Another is "flex time." It sounds wonderful to a salaried employee: make your own schedule, avoid rush hour. The problem is no employer trusts you to come in later and work later. They want you to come in earlier and leave earlier because that's the only way they can keep track of you. Maintenance workers, who generally arrive around 5:00 or 6:00 a.m., can attest you arrived 7:30 as you promised. Your colleagues take note of when you leave because everyone is watching everyone else's clock and making comparisons. It's the culture we've created. And you're not punching a clock, so if you arrive at 7:00...half an hour before your established start time, well you sit in your car in an unnecessary parking lot not getting much done other than listening to the radio and wishing you had more time to loaf. You can't possibly arrive at 10:00 a.m. because the building empties at 5:00. Who will know if you took off nearly an hour early by skipping out at 5:15 instead of 6:00 in the evening? It doesn't matter that all your work was done and the only thing you could really occupy yourself with was a Law & Order re-run. You're expected to stay in your office and watch a show rather than arrive home early and enjoy time with your kids. And that's the dehumanizing truth. We all know it.
So this is my manifesto. My public statement on the importance of laziness and the actions we should take to ensure its benefits to our progress, social order, and personal sanity.
And here is my definition of "lazy": an evolutionary adaptive trait that gives most animal species the ability to use energy solely for the purposes of creating happiness, changing the world for the better, and generally enjoying life in the most efficient and effective ways possible.
Suck it Funk & Wagner.
Up Next: The first in a series of tips on being lazy and clean, healthy, organized, and productive
To whit.
I remember, at the age of seven, putting myself in "time out" after refusing to vacuum the living room.
There was no such thing as "time out" then.
The truth is I hid somewhere my mom couldn't find me because I was NOT going to vacuum the damn floor, and I wasn't taking yes for an answer. I was a little feminist even then, and I had challenged my mom on the fairness of her request by asserting that the boy next door wasn't expected to clean house, so I shouldn't be either. She countered, with suspiciously quick detail, about how he not only vacuumed, but, in fact, started with the edges of the room and then went over the carpet first horizontally and then vertically.
He was five.
I mean, c'mon, he couldn't even drive a Tonka truck straight and was constantly wrecking his Big Wheel.
Even if he had been capable of following that level of detailed instruction, he had a reputation for running around the neighborhood naked and showing up in the neighbors' unlocked homes, birthday suit and all, during dinner time...I assume for maximum impact. We were having beans the evening he showed up in our kitchen. As I narrowed my gaze, beans dripped out of my mouth one by one back into the bowl (because...duh...that was my first time to see a penis hanging around for all the world to see), my mom stood up and yelled, "What are you DOING?" and my dad continued chewing, slice of cornbread in one hand and spoon in the other, shaking his bemused head and softly giggling.
Not exactly my candidate for obedient child of the year. And definitely not the winner of the best vacuumer contest.
My point is this: my mother, I do love her, had this concept of a "productive child," what I will call a "contributing citizen" looked like, but I had different ideas. I carved out a ka-thousand hiding places because I valued contemplation, thinking out loud, and finding work that felt like play. Had she asked me to pick up all the fallen sticks in the yard, I could have made a game out of it because I loved (and still do) the idea of living out in the woods, off the land. Had she been willing to talk it out with a seven-year-old girl, we might have found a compromise. I would have gladly raked, cleaned the leaves out of the reflection pool built in the 1920s. I would have been happy dusting, organizing, taking out the trash. I just really didn't want to vacuum. And the reason is pretty simple: I don't like loud noises. It's not that they rock my world; I just find them extremely annoying and distracting. (Yes, I punned: "rockin' in the free world"). But my mom didn't think to ask why I really didn't want to do this one chore. So we couldn't compromise.
My theory is the greatest inventors started out like me: lazy to the bone and looking for ways to carve more time for loafing. We can use Thomas Edison as an example. What purpose did the phonograph really serve? It was a way for people to listen to music without actually leaving the house.
I rest my case.
Well, not quite. Edison should have been way more thoughtful about his project development plans. I'm sure the light bulb he built was a means to lie in bed reading comfortably without having to constantly twist his spine to position the book into the candlelight. Or maybe he foresaw that his improvements to the bulb would make the work day longer. I can't decide if he was stupid or evil. I, for one, do not make improvements so I can work harder and longer. Edison is not my hero, phonograph notwithstanding.
Frankly, we have the means right now to eliminate most offices, parking lots, and big-box stores. This would improve our quality of life and begin the process of reversing climate change.
The problem is we don't trust laziness. We've decided it's a character flaw and not the evolutionary adaptive trait it truly is. We value "hard work," "putting your back into it," "no pain, no gain." But, in order for all this work to count, someone must witness it or it didn't happen. We have to be seen in an office from 9-5 in order to be considered actually working during an era when we could just as easily do the work at home.
The cost of this is tremendous.
We commute, and in Arkansas that means one person per vehicle covering distances anywhere from 1/2 a mile (in my case) to 30 miles (in my husband's case) to upwards of 60 miles (in the cases of several friends and family members I know). That's time we spend away from physical activity (just wait, I define certain types of physical activities as "lazy" in another post), friends, family, and even getting work done for our jobs/careers. Think about it. We spend millions, maybe billions, of dollars heating and cooling, lighting, maintaining, repairing, and staying connected to the Internet at both our offices, which are empty at night, and our homes, which are empty during the day. Here's a fact: I teach online. I teach better online than I teach in a classroom, and I do it from my home after work. Yes, for-profit institutions of higher education have a bad rap and for good reason. But I can at least say my publicly funded state institution does it right. Good, productive work CAN happen online.
Once we stop measuring productivity by time spent at a desk and start measuring it by real data (for my online class that would be end-of-term evaluations, surveys, check-ins, how well students do in the class), we can eliminate the desk job, the commute, and its attending parking space.
The same goes with big-box stores. For months after it opened, I shunned our Neighborhood Market because I figured it was just "Wal-Mart Grocery Lite": the usual fodder for the common consumer. And I'm not the common consumer. I ended up shopping there one time out of desperation because I'm particular about grapefruit juice, and it was the closest store that might carry my brand. I couldn't believe it. The store was softly lit, quiet, and basically uninhabited. They carry everything I want, just in smaller quantities on the shelves, which makes choice (and, thus, decision making) incredibly quick and easy. Now they're advertising that store pickup (order and pay online, pickup at the appointed time and place) will roll out soon. They will still need the same number of employees, if not more, but they can cut their parking lot in half. That poor fella who corrals the carts in all the worst of weather can take on a new position that could lead to better opportunities: greeting guests with their bagged online purchases, a chance to interact and gain what we call "soft skills."
Have you ever walked across a black asphalt street or parking lot in the dead heat of summer? Have you noticed the temperature change between the asphalt and a sidewalk or the grass? If you haven't, pay attention next time you're out this season. We've identified many of the contributors to climate change and bitched about them, but most "experts" offer stupid solutions based on the suspicion that they will encourage laziness.
Among them is carpooling (because it ensures you're not only "bonding" with colleagues, but you're all engaged in getting to work in a timely manner). We've all had the experience of agreeing to a road trip with a group of acquaintances only to find out too late it was a trap. You know, the plan was to head out to Fayetteville for a literary festival, but first, "I have to drop by my brother's place," and then "Oh, I need to take in my dry cleaning." And 1/4 into the trip you discover everyone in the car is voting for the other party, and you start considering Ubering back home at the next pit stop. That's more or less what carpooling is like...except on a DAILY basis, and these are the reasons NO ONE wants to do it. If we had public transportation in small-town America, we would all be taking it because it would be so much easier to get away from NosePicker, FartKnocker, KnowItAll, and the boss who wants the cover sheets corrected on your TPS reports because "that'd be great."
Another is "flex time." It sounds wonderful to a salaried employee: make your own schedule, avoid rush hour. The problem is no employer trusts you to come in later and work later. They want you to come in earlier and leave earlier because that's the only way they can keep track of you. Maintenance workers, who generally arrive around 5:00 or 6:00 a.m., can attest you arrived 7:30 as you promised. Your colleagues take note of when you leave because everyone is watching everyone else's clock and making comparisons. It's the culture we've created. And you're not punching a clock, so if you arrive at 7:00...half an hour before your established start time, well you sit in your car in an unnecessary parking lot not getting much done other than listening to the radio and wishing you had more time to loaf. You can't possibly arrive at 10:00 a.m. because the building empties at 5:00. Who will know if you took off nearly an hour early by skipping out at 5:15 instead of 6:00 in the evening? It doesn't matter that all your work was done and the only thing you could really occupy yourself with was a Law & Order re-run. You're expected to stay in your office and watch a show rather than arrive home early and enjoy time with your kids. And that's the dehumanizing truth. We all know it.
So this is my manifesto. My public statement on the importance of laziness and the actions we should take to ensure its benefits to our progress, social order, and personal sanity.
And here is my definition of "lazy": an evolutionary adaptive trait that gives most animal species the ability to use energy solely for the purposes of creating happiness, changing the world for the better, and generally enjoying life in the most efficient and effective ways possible.
Suck it Funk & Wagner.
Up Next: The first in a series of tips on being lazy and clean, healthy, organized, and productive
