I wasn’t going to write about this, because I knew it would probably be extremely obnoxious to those who might read it who have an hour-long, one-way commute to work. Well, actually, I was going to write about it anyway, but I was going to apologize profusely to anyone who has such a commute. However, last night, I was perusing one of my favorite blogs Bookworld (if you like to read, check it out http://bookworld.typepad.com/book_world/. You can thank Becky, my friend who introduced it to me) and came across a psychological phrase I’d forgotten: hedonistic adaptation. How could I possibly have forgotten something so useful? In a layperson’s nutshell, it means people adapt very easily and quickly to good news or situations, with barely a thought, let alone a marvel. So now I don’t need to apologize, because I’m just going to blame today’s post on hedonistic adaptation.
Yesterday morning, I had to go to the post office to mail things for work. Thanks to the glories of email and being able to send most documents as attachments, this is something I don’t have to do as often as I would have fifteen years ago (yes, I do know people who telecommuted, even back in those days. I don’t know how on earth they managed). I’ve discovered I just hate the bother of having to go to the post office. I never knew that one thing I was really going to miss from my office days was that handy little box, where I just deposited everything that needed mailing, and those magicians, the mailroom assistants, would take care of it for me. No figuring out postage, no saving receipts that will have to be mailed themselves, so I can get reimbursed. Just poof! and everything went where it needed to go. I wish I’d spent more time bowing down to the mailroom assistants.
The post office is only about six miles from my house. I used to have a 24-mile/45-minute commute to work. I found myself on the drive back wondering: why am I so bothered by having to take the time to drive over to the post office? Well, the explanation became perfectly clear once I logged onto Bookworld: hedonistic adaptation. I’ve already completely adapted to the good news that I don’t have to leave the house for work. Thus, when I find I do have to leave the house for work, I resent it. I should have been in some psych experiment for adaptation timing, as I’m pretty sure I adapted to this fortunate situation, not giving it a single thought, around day two of working from home.
It’s a dangerous thing. I saw an ad on TV for a label maker, extolling its virtues, one of which is that it will print out postage labels. I’m not one who is typically swayed by advertising, but this was quite a convincing ad. It first grabbed my attention by demonstrating how annoying trying to print labels with a standard printer can be. Since I’ve had a little bit of experience with that, I was impressed with how well those advertisers knew their market. I immediately found myself wondering if I ought to go down to Staples or Office Depot to see if they had one. Then all I’d have to do is walk down to my mailbox to deposit my mail (almost as good as that little box in the old office). Walking would be a good thing. It would help me burn off those chocolates I had to eat yesterday. But then I realized I’d probably start resenting having to go to the mailbox twice in one day, and besides, I couldn’t be bothered to drive over to Staples.
Now, I'm just wondering if there’s anyway to induce something called hedonistic amnesia that would make me forget all the good things about working in an office, like not having to bother about mail.
1 comment:
I resent having to go to the post office, too. Most of the time, I can get away with shoving a stamp on a letter and putting it in my mailbox, but if I have to mail a package (usually to Peru but sometimes to New Jersey, the state that houses the "virtual headquarters" of my completely virtual company), I put off going to the post office as long as possible. I think that's because I live in a city of more than 105,000 people that only has two post offices, so no matter what time of the day or night, there is always a line. And if I go at lunch, like the rest of the world, then the postal staff is also at lunch and there are fewer clerks to help me, so the lines are long and the wait times are long. One of my many tasks as a telecommuter is taking calls from people who use a web-based application in New Orleans. When I agreed to take these calls, my boss said, "It'll be great. You don't have to be at home to take these calls. You can be on the golf course and answer users' questions." "Great!" I thought. "This means I can go to the post office at less busy times and get faster service." Well, first of all, there isn't any time at either local post office that isn't busy. Secondly, I can answer some calls away from home, but usually I have to be near a computer with web access to help my callers. If I don't, then it's a caller who needs about 30 minutes of my time, who is panicking and yelling, and there's no way to help that person and tell a clerk I that I need to send something "Global Express" to Lima, Peru.
Post a Comment