The Squeaky Wheel

So here's the latest on my progress:  So far, my personal and pitiful best is somewhere around 7 hours. Ugh. 

I will not give up on my 7 day challenge of no complaining, but at this rate, I'm afraid it could take months. 
I know. Clearly, I suck at this. But give me a break. I have a very good reason! (excuse)

It's the 'squeaky wheel' theory! My complaints have begotten oodles of grease in the form of refunds, better seats, better tables, freebies and much more. Besides, it's not easy to break a lifelong habit.

              Aren't we born complaining?

I know I was. I must have hated the idea of eviction from the dark warm comfort of my mother's womb, because I refused to leave. When the doctor yanked me out with forceps, I can only imagine how PO'd I was. Legend has it that I entered the delivery room with such earsplitting screams; I nearly woke my mother.  

(Those were the good old days when expectant mothers were treated to horse tranquilizers to take the edge off. After which they languished in week-long respites in hospital rooms where ashtrays were more common than televisions.)

Think about it. If all healthy babies shriek their way into the world, then maybe complaining is just hard-wired into our DNA. Like a survival instinct.  Granted, those of us who are fortunate to be born to loving parents get plenty of affection and attention. Yet, the average baby cries a dozen times a day. Besides turning a household on its ear, this serves a purpose. They get the undivided attention of an exhausted mother who rescues them from sickness, hunger or a loaded diaper.  

Yes, it is not lost on me that I am giving the mothers most of the credit. To the hands-on fathers out there who have embraced diaper duty; I salute you. I'm not saying my ex never changed a toxic diaper, but most times the proverbial ball (of you-know-what) was in my court. If he happened to notice her unfortunate situation before I did, he would mumble something poignant, yet subtle like: "The baby smells like she wants to be alone."

The point is, from the moment we are born, no matter who is taking care of us; complaining gets our needs met.

If our instinct was to grin and bear it would we be better off? Not in my experience. I screamed nonstop for the first two weeks of my life because my mother's breast milk lacked nutrients.  My infantile complaints prompted a trip to the pediatrician that resulted in a new diet of formula and cow's milk that quite literally kept me from starving. I doubt the lesson in that escaped me. Babies learn.

As a new mother, I was warned against picking up my baby when she cried at bedtime, lest she never learn how to get to sleep on her own. Sixteen years later my 'baby' falls asleep most nights with the TV on, so you can guess how well I managed that directive. Yeah, I was a wimp who could not bear to hear her cry.  

As we mature our complaining skills evolve. And it's a good thing they do. When was that last time you saw a couple out on the town burst into tears and stomp their feet when the hostess seated them at a table near the kitchen? Or a receiver throw himself down on the field, kicking and screaming because he missed a pass. (Okay. Maybe you have seen that one.)

As our needs become more complex, we get better at articulating them. The baby's cry becomes the toddler's tantrum.  "I don't want to take a nap!" The toddler's tantrum becomes the child's whine. "Mommy! You gave her a bigger piece!"  The child's whine becomes the tween's groan. "Mom! You never let me do anything." The tween's groan becomes the teenager's accusation. "You're ruining my life. You're the worst mother in the world! " This is when we hit our stride. The teenager's accusation becomes the mother's gripe. "You don't appreciate anything I do for you. When I was your age.....blah blah blah..." And we've come full circle.

Clearly, complaining is not always just about survival. We also complain to stand up for ourselves. But where do we draw the line? Is it sometimes better not to make noise? 

I ask you: If the squeaky wheel gets oiled, does the squealing child get spoiled?

Justifiable Complaining

According to Merrium-Webster, there are two definitions of the word complain: 

1. : to express grief, pain, or discontent 

2. :  to make a formal accusation or charge

So Wednesday, after deciding to accept the 'no complaining challenge' I was feeling good about myself. Okay, maybe even a little smug.  My euphoria lasted about an hour.

It disappeared when I crossed paths with a dip-sh*t in a pickup who mistook the Walmart parking lot for the Daytona Speedway.  As I made a right turn into the lot 'Ricky Bobby' blew through the stop sign at about 40 MPH, hung a left on 2 wheels and came so close to me he nearly took my front bumper with him. 

Of course, I reacted with all of the serenity befitting a gal on a journey for peace of mind and self-improvement. I'm pretty sure I was still standing on my brakes, when I leaned on my horn and shouted "A**hole!" 

And I wondered, "Was that a complaint?" Because I'd like to think it was more of an observation.  

You can't really call it a complaint unless I had whined about it to someone. Right?  Still, I was 'expressing discontent'. But my heart was pounding in my ears, so wasn't my reaction was justified? 

Ugh. I may have to avoid driving for these 7 days, even if it might be unfair to the other drivers who need my horn-blowing and constructive critiques.

I have noticed that my complaining style is not so much premeditated tirades, as it is  knee-jerk reactions,  and avoiding them takes more of a conscious effort. 

But what about justifiable complaining? Does that count? Because sometimes I have a lot to complain about. Like war, famine, politicians and not being able to find the end of a roll of tape and reality TV stars and when I can't open a jar of mustard and when I have a conversation with my mother and I have to say everything twice. 

Okay. Maybe I'm missing the point.  We all have some reason to complain, but I guess it's a slippery slope. One minute you're complaining about your boss, whom admittedly  probably is an overpaid buffoon and moments later you've worked yourself up to a full blown rage over a broken shoelace or a bad call by a referee. 

But to be honest, I'm not even sure if I get the point. Isn't venting good for you? No doubt, its better for the vent-er than the vent-ee. It's never fun to be on the receiving end of someone's emotional dump. Especially if it's angry and often. 

So is the idea for me to become a nicer person? Someone who's easier to be around? 

I guess the only thing to do is soldier on. Chin up and mouth shut.  And when I'm behind the wheel, I'll try to keep the horn-blowing and the 'observations' to a minimum. 

I wonder. Do hand-gestures count? 

Embracing Hokey

Have you ever been to a business meeting or a seminar and listened to a hokey motivational speaker who was so full of sunshine and positive energy, that you just wanted to hurl? 

Tuesday evening I observed one of hokiest, happiest,  energetic speakers I have ever heard. He even made us jump out of our chairs every five minutes and declare how awesome we were. Then we had to high-five the stranger next to us and tell them how awesome they were.   

But what may surprise you, is that during this entire event, not one person looked like they wanted to hurl. There was not even so much as an eye-roll.  In fact, I heard more 'Amens'  from that audience than at a Baptist revival. They were completely and utterly enthralled.  

And so was I.

Because here's the thing: I'm a fan of happy and energetic people.  I kind of like hokey.  I might even embrace hokey and I don't really mind sitting in front of a gifted speaker who can wake me up and shake me out of my comfort zone.  

And that's exactly what he did. But, what impacted me most was a challenge he gave us.  "Want to change your life for the better?" Mr. Energy asked. "Go 7 days without complaining."

I was still feeling the effects of the previous night's influx of motivation when I awoke Wednesday morning. And though I consider myself a very positive person, I could not stop thinking about his challenge.  

So, despite the fact that I'm pretty sure that Mr. Energy  laid down the gauntlet for the whiners in the group and not an optimist like me, I decided to accept the challenge: 

No complaining for 7 days. 

This was going to be a breeze! I could improve my life a little and at the same time, set an  example for others not blessed with my sunny disposition. 

Other than a minor road rage incident (more about that next time) yesterday morning, I was doing great. Until I began to write this post.

I had some problems with the new 'Blogger' interface that the geeks at Google decided to change from a perfectly good, user-friendly one into a hot-complicated-mess! (Do rants count?)

I eventually figured it out, but not without some whining and okay, there may have even been some colorful language involved. 

Crap. I may be off to a bad start. Have you ever noticed that humble pie tastes nothing like pumpkin?