I love the term “First World Problem.” For those of you who haven’t heard the term, it’s just what it sounds like; problems that citizens in rich countries have (or as I like to say, “White people problems.”) First world problems are usually trivial things like Skype dropping your connection or the line in Starbucks being too long. Things that make you want to punch someone in the mouth when you hear them, especially when you can’t make rent that week.
I don’t know if this is strictly an American phenomenon, but Americans love complaining. We complain about the line at Starbucks. We complain that data plans are expensive. We complain that Christmas is too commercial in the same breath that we complain the malls are too crowded. We even complain about the quality of our complaints!
“I really hate to complain about this, but I paid $4.95 for this soy Macchiato and there just isn’t enough sugar-free caramel syrup in it, can I get a little more?”
Do you know why you hear that prefix, “I hate to complain, but...”? Because people realize their complaint is trivial in the grand scheme of things. Missing an extra pump of syrup is silly compared to the European economic crisis or the working conditions in Shenzhen. So if people know it’s so trivial, why complain about it?
Because it’s all they know.
Let me come at this from the other side. While watching TV late at night and you see a commercial for starving children in some third world country. The camera slowly pans over dozens of skinny kids looking confused and scared. There is a shot of a sleeping child with flies near (or in) its mouth, a shot of some pre-teen girls moving baskets around on their heads and a shot of a few kids playing with a beaten up soccer ball. If you manage to watch the entire commercial, you might be motivated enough to think about writing down the phone number to possibly see about reading up on the organization at some point in time in the distant future. Maybe.
Ever stop and think about those kids though? The ones playing soccer? They’re playing. Really playing. Put them in jeans and t-shirts and they could be the kids from up the street. These poor starving brats are enjoying life!? How dare they! They’re supposed to be starving! They represent the worst station in life! Nothing is supposed to be worse than being a starving child in Africa! Don’t they know how bad they have it?
No, they don’t. It’s all they know.
They live it those conditions everyday. While it’s abhorrent to us, it’s just another day for them. Just like white mocha's are our lives, surviving on the bare minimum is theirs. Aren’t they entitled to a little happiness in the form of a soccer ball? Darn-tootin’! So why shouldn't we be entitled to a little misery in the form of a speeding ticket?
We need these moments of misery in our lives. I was pointed to a blog entry from Momastry by two separate people recently. The blog talks about empty nesters watching new moms with envy, reminding new moms to “love every minute of being a mom!” The author listens politely as she struggles to keep her kids from streaking in the grocery store aisles, not loving that very minute. Is she a horrible mom for not enjoying that moment? Did these empty-nesters never have bad moments? Of course they did, but in the big picture that isn’t what they remember. What they remember is the baseline.
If I assign some values to your life, rating moments on a scale of 1 to 10. The specific moments that are most memorable are the 8’s & 9’s (and a few of the 2’s & 3’s), but we spend most of our lives hanging out at 5-7. Everything averages out eventually. Life isn’t meant to be lived in the 7’s and 8’s, it’s meant to be lived within all the values. The trick is to recognize the value of the low points in your life and let them be what they are, part of the greater whole.
So the next time your favorite program is interrupted with a tornado warning 5 counties over, it’s okay to grouse a little bit, it just shows how much you like the program. Allow the bad moments to be bad, just don’t let them be the only moments worth caring about.
I don’t know if this is strictly an American phenomenon, but Americans love complaining. We complain about the line at Starbucks. We complain that data plans are expensive. We complain that Christmas is too commercial in the same breath that we complain the malls are too crowded. We even complain about the quality of our complaints!
“I really hate to complain about this, but I paid $4.95 for this soy Macchiato and there just isn’t enough sugar-free caramel syrup in it, can I get a little more?”
Do you know why you hear that prefix, “I hate to complain, but...”? Because people realize their complaint is trivial in the grand scheme of things. Missing an extra pump of syrup is silly compared to the European economic crisis or the working conditions in Shenzhen. So if people know it’s so trivial, why complain about it?
Because it’s all they know.
Let me come at this from the other side. While watching TV late at night and you see a commercial for starving children in some third world country. The camera slowly pans over dozens of skinny kids looking confused and scared. There is a shot of a sleeping child with flies near (or in) its mouth, a shot of some pre-teen girls moving baskets around on their heads and a shot of a few kids playing with a beaten up soccer ball. If you manage to watch the entire commercial, you might be motivated enough to think about writing down the phone number to possibly see about reading up on the organization at some point in time in the distant future. Maybe.
Ever stop and think about those kids though? The ones playing soccer? They’re playing. Really playing. Put them in jeans and t-shirts and they could be the kids from up the street. These poor starving brats are enjoying life!? How dare they! They’re supposed to be starving! They represent the worst station in life! Nothing is supposed to be worse than being a starving child in Africa! Don’t they know how bad they have it?
No, they don’t. It’s all they know.
They live it those conditions everyday. While it’s abhorrent to us, it’s just another day for them. Just like white mocha's are our lives, surviving on the bare minimum is theirs. Aren’t they entitled to a little happiness in the form of a soccer ball? Darn-tootin’! So why shouldn't we be entitled to a little misery in the form of a speeding ticket?
We need these moments of misery in our lives. I was pointed to a blog entry from Momastry by two separate people recently. The blog talks about empty nesters watching new moms with envy, reminding new moms to “love every minute of being a mom!” The author listens politely as she struggles to keep her kids from streaking in the grocery store aisles, not loving that very minute. Is she a horrible mom for not enjoying that moment? Did these empty-nesters never have bad moments? Of course they did, but in the big picture that isn’t what they remember. What they remember is the baseline.
If I assign some values to your life, rating moments on a scale of 1 to 10. The specific moments that are most memorable are the 8’s & 9’s (and a few of the 2’s & 3’s), but we spend most of our lives hanging out at 5-7. Everything averages out eventually. Life isn’t meant to be lived in the 7’s and 8’s, it’s meant to be lived within all the values. The trick is to recognize the value of the low points in your life and let them be what they are, part of the greater whole.
So the next time your favorite program is interrupted with a tornado warning 5 counties over, it’s okay to grouse a little bit, it just shows how much you like the program. Allow the bad moments to be bad, just don’t let them be the only moments worth caring about.
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