Atomic Negativity

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I don’t generally encourage negativity. There’s too much of that already in this world—just tune into your local news for ample proof.

But there are times in my life when short bursts of negativity—atomic negativity* if you will—come in quite handy. In other words, I know there are certain situations where people are likely to disappoint me, and if I mentally prepare myself for that disappointment beforehand, the disappointment, should it occur, won’t irk me. In fact, it will make me smile.

* Quick aside: The term atomic negativity was inspired by James Clear’s Atomic Habits. If small constructive actions done consistently over long stretches of time can produce great results, then small preemptive negativity done whenever routine societal friction is likely can produce great serenity. 

Here are five examples of how I use atomic negativity to safeguard my emotional well-being:

Opening a Door for a Stranger

When I was a young man, a stranger always said “Thank you” whenever I opened a door for him or her. But the further we have separated ourselves from the 20th Century, especially since 2010, I have noticed that this simple gesture of gratitude stopped being universal.

Today, my batting average for “door-opening thank yous” is still remarkably high—but it ain’t a thousand. And the more door-opening I do beyond the confines of rural North Carolina, the lower my batting average goes. So today, I no longer open a door for a stranger for the glory of a “Thank you.” I do it because I enjoy being a good egg. And if a get a “Thank you,” my brain responds with a double shot of dopamine.

Leaving a Fast-Food Drive-Thru Unscathed

I very rarely go through a fast-food drive-thru completely unscathed. Wrongs, however minor, are now the norm—the change returned is incorrect, the bag with my order fails to contain straws, napkins, and condiments, the food is less than fresh, or the disposition of the staff is less than sunny. And then there’s the dreaded directive to leave the line and park in pick-up purgatory. Mrs. Groovy and I have an uncanny knack for ordering something that obliterates the rhythm of the fast-food machine.

But rather than curse the decline of American competence, I now roll with it. No fast-food staff is out to ruin my day. They’re young people working under difficult circumstances for little pay. And as long as they’re trying—which they invariably are—I can afford to show a little magnanimity. Besides, I have a ready stash of backup straws, napkins, and condiments occupying my glove compartment.

Checking-Out at the Supermarket

Is checking-out at the supermarket something novel? Apparently, it is. Because whenever I check-out, I invariably get behind a shopper who is unfamiliar with what he or she has to do after the cashier has rung up his or her groceries. He or she is always shocked that at this point in the transaction he or she has to pay. So rather than whip out a ready bank card or some ready cash, he or she fumbles, first through his or her clothing, and then through whatever accessory he or she uses to transport his or her purchasing power (i.e., wallet or purse).

Mr. Groovy 3.0 or earlier used to get very frustrated with this behavior. “Why do I always have to get behind the boob who can’t handle the payment phase with aplomb?” I would wail silently to myself. But then, with the advent of my 4.0 upgrade, I got perspective. Is my life so important that being subjected to a three-minute check-out delay is a crime against humanity? It ain’t. I’m a retired nobody in the wilds of North Carolina. On most days, standing in a line would arguably be the highlight of my day.

Going Into My House with My Hands Laden with Groceries

Mrs. Groovy, God bless her, has weak spatial perception skills. Whenever we return from grocery shopping, I make it my manly duty to be the pack mule and carry the majority of our provisions into the house. All I ask her to do is hold open the screen door. But she can never judge the opening required for me to get past the screen door unmolested.

Again, Mr. Groovy 3.0 and earlier used to get very upset with this poor display of spatial perception skills. But my 4.0 upgrade has made me much more empathetic. I now try to see things from her perspective. Mrs. Groovy has no choice but to be behind the screen door as she opens it, and she’s often clutching a bag or two herself. It might very well be that it’s impossible for her to see the width the bags in my bag-laden hands are adding to my frame. So, now, whenever I’m denied suitable screen-door clearance, I chuckle, and then cheerfully ask Mrs. Groovy to open the screen door a little wider.

Getting Behind the Wheel of a Car

Americans are sucky drivers. And I don’t say that from a snobbish perspective. My driving sucks too. And it has grown decidedly worse since I stopped being 50-something. The only thing that separates me from the average American driver, however, is this: I know I’m a sucky driver. And because I know this, I’ve devised five strategies for maintaining my sangfroid whenever I hit the road.

1. Leave 15 minutes early. Nothing invites anger more than being in a rush behind the wheel. But if you leave for your destination just 15 minutes earlier than necessary, you’re much more capable of handling the drivers who get catatonic in the left-turning lane and turn a one-light blockade into a two- or three-light blockade.
2. Go “slow” in the farthest right lane. I’m a five-miles-over-the-speed-limit driver. In today’s world, that makes me a slow poke. And driving slow is okay—as long as you do it in the farthest right lane possible. This way, you’re not gumming up traffic and you don’t have some ten- or fifteen-miles-over-the-speed-limit driver up your arse.
3. It’s okay to pull over and let someone pass. There are situations, however, where there isn’t a far-right lane. There’s only one lane. And when these situations arise, and I have a ten- or fifteen-miles-over-the-speed-limit driver up my arse, I pull over. He or she is in a rush. I’m not. So why not give him or her the opportunity to speed away? Nine times out of ten, I’ll catch up to him or her at the next light anyway. But we each get to that light with as little discomfort as possible. Being territorial on America’s roads isn’t good for your mental health—and if you’re territorial with the wrong person, it might not be good for your physical health.
4. Expect stupidity. I know a driver in front of me will fall asleep at a red light. I know I will encounter many drivers with poor lane-management skills. I know someone entering from a side road will misjudge the time needed for a frictionless entry and cut me off. I know few if any drivers will use their directionals to signal their intentions. And I know if I’m driving on a Friday or Saturday night, I’ll witness “acts of perversion, so profound, and disgusting, that decorum will prohibit me from listing them in this family-friendly blog.” And, yet, none of this stupidity bothers me. It’s an unavoidable cost of the American driving experience. The stupid driver always has the right of way; and if you can’t counter this tragic reality with great anticipation and charity, you will find driving very frustrating.
5. Don’t take someone else’s sucky driving personally. Just a day before I completed this post, a driver on the road I take to reach a neighborhood park was mysteriously stopped at an intersection. No directional light was engaged. No hazard lights were flashing. And no traffic was impeding his or her advance. He or she was just frozen by a stop sign, presumably contemplating his or her next move.Now, I could have rolled up behind him or her, waited a few seconds, and then blasted his or her inaction with my horn. But why? Did he or she purposely create a senseless obstruction to ruin my day?That sucky driver wasn’t out to get me. He or she didn’t even know I existed. Our paths crossed by accident. And because a quirky side road some 100 feet or so before the stop sign allowed me to bypass his or her senseless obstruction, I had no reason to freak out or “get even.” I just took advantage of the quirky side road and made my left. I didn’t peer into the offending car as I passed it to get a good look at the sucky driver. And I didn’t flip the sucky driver the bird. Getting to the park was way more important than taking any rando’s sucky driving personally.

Final Thoughts

Okay, groovy freedomist, that’s all I got. What say you? Is atomic negativity a great way to smooth over life’s frequent but petty rough patches? Let me know what you think when you get a chance. Peace.