We used to have more fun.
Not always, but in general as a country, as a society, and yeah…sometimes even at work.
Way back when, before all the pressure to be on the clock constantly, our interactions with people just seemed easier. You could get to know the people you worked with, because, well, they worked right next to you, and also, there was more time to talk to them.
You could tease people, and not everyone took themselves so seriously all the time that they reacted negatively. Work wasn’t everything. No one answered emails at night because there was no email.
People didn’t surface every single flaw they saw about every small thing, whether it came to who you were, what you did, how you performed, or how you came across.
Hell, I’m from the era when people used to go to a bar in the middle of the day, have a few martinis, and come back to work. (I’m not saying that’s ideal. But the point is, not everything was so rigid back then.)
People weren’t “on the clock” constantly.
They also compromised – ah, such a bad word today – on what and who they wanted and, in many cases, forgave the small things that bothered them.
When it came to mates, there weren’t such strict requirements about some ridiculous “ideal” someone thought they deserved (outside of the very, very wealthy classes, perhaps). People across cultures and social statuses could meet and potentially attract a mate regardless of income or where they came from.
Now, it’s all about this perfection in every aspect that everyone is supposed to be striving for.
You know, the high-performers and those who tell us how to emulate the high-performers. The Michael Jordans. The Jeff Bezos(es). The Elon Musks. Work at your craft all the time. Don’t sleep. Come out on top. (Or, be told by another so-called high-performer how to be rich but more smartly – so we don’t have to actually do all the hard work ourselves and have someone else do that for us to the point where we reap all the monetary benefits.)
It’s this weird dynamic where we’re telling everyday people, in essence, you need to become a machine. Flawless, Indefatigable. A winner at all costs.
It reminds me of what mathematician Eric Weinstein said recently on The Diary of a CEO podcast about AI, in particular. “Someone is going to come out on top…And I hate to tell people that you should try to come out on top. I don’t think it’s healthy for everyone trying to be world-class. I think you should just be able to have a life.”
You should just be able to have a life.
That used to be, after all, good enough.
The problem, of course, is that the standard today is ALWAYS excellence, ALL OF THE TIME. And the truth is, no human on earth is really capable of such effort.
So, what happens?
It leaves us as people exhausted, bitter, humorless and unwilling or fearful to engage with others they deem “less” than them, and ultimately miserable.
The Fall of René Redzepi: How the Seeking of Perfection Destroyed a Culture
I have to say, I’m a sucker for great food. Like really great food. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve been able to go to Michelin-starred places or restaurants that might be considered to be among the best in the world. It’s not like I go that often, and certainly I understand the ridiculousness or unfairness of that on the one hand when people are starving out there.
I guess what I marvel at most, of course, are the flavors and the presentation – certainly you can taste and see plates that are so creative and unique.
But it’s also not without understanding the darker side of it.
After all, you don’t attain that level of recognition without a singular drive by the head chef or proprietor, especially the kind of attention to detail that requires that a dish not only tastes exactly the same on every plate, but is presented exactly the same way every serving and every night.
A great example is René Redzepi, the founder and proprietor of Noma, a Copenhagen restaurant considered one of the best in the world. As The New York Times recently reported, Redzepi was forced to step down after the paper published abuse allegations against him.
The paper said Redzepi not only verbally abused the people who worked for him, but he also physically assaulted some of them. At least 30 former employees said that being hit by Mr. Redzepi (and by the senior cooks who ran the kitchen) was routine. Dozens more suffered other bullying and verbal abuse.
Now Redzepi’s future and the future of Noma is somewhat unclear. All for the pursuit of the perfect dish.
Attention to Detail and the Pursuit of Excellence, but Not in Some In-Human Sort of Way
The truth is, you could probably consider Redzepi’s case a rather mild one compared to the way other companies have treated their workers. (We need look no further than Amazon’s infamous treatment of its warehouse workers, some of whom felt they couldn’t use the bathroom or risk being fired.)
That’s insanity. Yet, those cultures don’t have to be the norm.
But that pursuit has to come with a sense of both humility and humanity. And, for the most part, it has to be done inwardly. Forcing “your standards” on others, when you don’t meet that standard yourself in other areas, is both hypocritical and, indeed, cruel.
The truth is, not everyone can or should try to be world-class. Or behave as a machine might without making mistakes. We’re all people. We all miss things. We all make mistakes.
Maybe if we all remembered more of that and gave people a break now and then, we could make life a little better for everyone. Imperfection is not the end of the world, even if the stakes seem high. Acting like it is, only adds to the misery everyone is currently feeling.
Is that what you really want?
