I was at the register, getting ready to check out at a favorite grocery store. In the past, I would play a game I called “Guess how much?”
But today did not feel like the day to play. On previous trips, others working their registers would have glanced at my cart and shouted an estimate. It was a bonding moment — so much so that when I would head to the registers, I would see a hand raised or smiles from various employees beckoning me to come their way.
But not today. That state of our world had put me in a mood.
When I arrived at my register of choice, I saw that the employee, whom I’ll call “Joe,” looked very flat. I started a conversation.
Me: Hey Joe, how are you doing today?
Joe: Meh … you really want to know?
Me: I think most of us are going through hard times. The news can sink you.
Joe: I never watch or read the news. That’s how I get through my day.
There was silence as we stared at each other. Then …
Me (ever the positivity washer): Well, at least you are here, which I consider a relatively happy place. Buying good food, working with nice people … you know …
Joe: I’m glad it works for you.
It was time to pay, which I did, and then I offered …
Me: “Joe, I don’t know what will help, but I hope you can find it. So many people are having a hard time. At least you don’t lie to yourself and say, ‘I’m doing fine.’”
That got a smile on Joe’s face, and he thanked me.
It also got me thinking about the lies we tell ourselves and others.
Lies come in so many shapes. Some are big and purposeful. Others are fibs that barely register. It is estimated that only 10 percent of the lies we tell are major, and 90 percent are considered trivial. We sometimes nickname trivial lies that are meant to spare other’s feelings “white lies.” Its etymology is unclear, and it’s possible we are sparing our own discomfort most of the time.
But big or small, lies or fibs, these moments are frequent. The average person lies four times daily. What are our most common lies?
Survey research reveals the following most popular lies: “I’m fine,” “I was stuck in traffic,” “You look great,” “I had only one beer,” “My phone died,” “I never got the message,” “I’m on my way,” “Thanks, it’s just what I’ve always wanted,” “You haven’t changed a bit,” and “I’ll try to make it.”
Sometimes, we lie to create more harmony. “That’s just what I’ve always wanted,” reassures others that their gift is great. “I’m fine” is intended to quell worry.
But there is a cost to our lying — maintaining personal credibility and managing where the lie takes us. The mere act of lying has made life more complicated, or as Mark Twain quipped, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.”
We should save ourselves from bad Pinocchio moments. There can be much to remember, and our credibility is at stake.
Looking at my interaction with Joe, I wondered whether there was something I should have said but didn’t. Some polls show our depressed population nearing 40 percent, and others say that when we add the undiagnosed, it’s even higher.
I had resisted my immediate inclination to find a silver lining. I am learning there can be purpose in our sadness, and sometimes, we need to let it sit.
But I did something very unusual for me. I didn’t immediately fill the silence when Joe told me he was struggling. Silence can be hard to experience, and I often think I have something helpful and upbeat to say.
This time, though, I quietly and empathetically nodded. Eventually, I offered that at least Joe was at an excellent store, which, for me, feels like a healthy and relatively happy place.
But even then, he didn’t lie and say, “Yes.” Instead, he said, “I’m glad it works for you.”
I learned something that day, which is only a little about the lies we tell or, in Joe’s case, the lies we don’t. I learned that there is a way to process uncomfortable truths, and sometimes it begins with silence.
