There once was a man I worked for, a genius who later spearheaded development of a computer system using time warping, a project the head of the NSA said was the first thing he’d seen that was delivered on time, under budget, and worked as promised. My tribute to this elevated intellect is to expound upon one of his favorite utterances in our workplace: “Fear and Loathing.” Whenever departments clashed, he’d say we have to wade into a muck of fear and loathing. Then he’d get folks to talk about their issues and part on good terms, which were usually temporary until the next bout of fear and loathing. Think about it. What do our brains like to do best of all? Daydream about sex? Nope, though that’s a close second. What our brains want us to do most is to either be afraid or angry. Anger is better than fear because eventually fears die down but anger can go on for years, even lifetimes. I personally think the human race is hard-wired to be annoyed the moment one takes one’s mind off something serious or seriously funny. One has to be hyper vigilant to what our brains are telling us every second of the day to knock us out of annoyance and onto thoughts that serve us better. “Damn it, I left my phone on the kitchen table. Should I turn around and get it? Yeah, better do that, I have time. What’s that fool in front of me doing? Why isn’t he turning? He’s got the green! Go, damn it! Stupid (fill in the blank) drivers.” “Yes, I know I’m late. You don’t have to remind me. (You’d think he’d have better things to do with his time than telling me I’m a few minutes late.)" “No, I can’t stop for milk on the way home. I have to stay and make up for the updates I would have finished this morning if it wasn’t for the damned traffic.” And so on. All because of the phone left on the table, which was whose fault? Is fault even needed, you ask? Of course it’s needed. It helps maintain a healthy level of annoyance. The human brain seems to be able to receive data for processing at the rate of eleven million bits per second, even though it only deems about 50 bits per second necessary for the conscious mind. It decides for us which chemicals it’s going to trigger. You know this already. Positive thoughts release endorphins that make us feel good and live longer. Anger lowers our serotonin and promotes ill health. So why are we so addicted to annoyance and anger? There’s your answer, embedded in the question. Anger is addictive. It makes us feel good for myriad reasons. It’s rooted in the simple need to flee from danger, which is a really useful response system. We just got creative with the chemicals, that’s all. If you don’t believe me, try this experiment. Wait five/ten minutes after you’ve finished reading this blog and then freeze frame the story that’s running in the background of your mind. What is it telling you? Repeat this throughout the day. My guess is you’ll be surprised by the volume of mild to serious annoyance in the script that’s running through your beanie. When my long-ago boss used his phrase “fear and loathing,” he was actually referring to annoyance, but in its stronger variant. In my case, fear and loathing can be deftly defined in one phrase: “I have to update my phone to a newer model.” Let’s assume you opt to purchase in-store. How appealing is the idea of walking into a shop for a half-hour purchase that’s going to take you three to four hours to complete? If you regard this outing with keen anticipation, I admire your technical savvy. You’re getting a new toy. Yay. I would rather peel onions. Therefore, I picked up my old phone, called my provider, and asked how much it would cost to upgrade to a newer model. The whole ordeal only took thirty minutes and a credit card number. Easy peasy. Then I was assailed by doubt. “How do I migrate my data?” “It’s simple. Your phone comes preset. Just follow the prompts and restore.” “What if I can’t figure that out?” “No problem. Here’s my number. Text me and I’ll walk you through it.” Seems straight forward enough, right? I agreed, hung up, and then spun into the first round of fear and loathing vs self-coaching. The right hemisphere of my brain: “My old phone is working fine now. Why do I need a new one? What if the screen is smaller and I can’t see the keyboard as well? What if I don’t like it? Did I make a mistake? I hate this.” The left hemisphere: “Your battery is wearing out. The transaction was so swift it was like divine intervention. You always hate change. In a few months you will love your new phone more than the old. Also the new phone fits in your pockets better. Wait. You’ll see. It will be fine.” Obeying the left hemisphere, I ignored the matter until the night the package arrived on my doorstep. Right brain: “Yep, it’s a phone. Now what do I do with it? There are no instructions included. I’m going to do it wrong. It’s late. I can’t cope.” Left brain: “It’s late. You can’t cope. Put the box in the office and don’t think about it until tomorrow when you have quiet time to google how to set it up. Go to bed. Imagine you’re dancing with Fred Astaire and not stepping on his toes.” Fear and loathing. It attacked me all the way through the setup process, which was remarkably easy, just as the young salesman had assured me. All I needed was a screen filled with instructions on my iMac, a few printed guidelines from Apple, and my two phones literally telling me what to do next. It’s been two days and I’m already starting to like the new phone better, even though it’s a whole new world of googling how to make the letters bigger, the sound better, and where did they put the battery level? It turned out I wasted days worth of serotonin (which I really needed to support my aging constitution) on fear and loathing of the unknown. I should have know better. Left brain: “If a tech company wants me to buy five devices that talk to each other and upgrade them every year, of course it has to make the setup easy! You have nothing to fear. Or loathe. Now go install the television remote control with voice activation.” Right brain: “Not on your life. No way. It can sit in a drawer and wait for the next user. The old remote is fine with me.” Left brain: “You’re letting fear and loathing rule your life.” Right brain: “It came with a booklet of instructions, followed by an email of instructions, and I don’t know what they’re talking about. Pushing buttons works. Why do I need voice activation?” Left brain: “It’s a good exercise for your mind. You must not succumb to the temptation of falling behind. You have to keep up with the times or you will calcify.” Right brain: “Calcify. Huh. Then I’ll never be able to know what the ten-year olds are talking about. Okay. Fine. I’ll install the xf#! remote. Later.” Fear and loathing. It’s unavoidable, inescapable, a nonstop babble of irritations. On the other hand, if used right it could be a good thing. The trick is knowing when it’s a good thing and when to tell it to shut up.