Anne and I got a puppy last Saturday named Toby. He’s got big, floppy ears, an adorable yawn and the softest tummy imaginable. He’s also a terror to leave alone in his crate, stubbornly resistant to peeing outside and showing a clear preference for Mom over Dad.
As part of the new puppy package, I read Good Owners, Great Dogs, a gift from my mother-in-law with 7,500 reviews and 4.5 stars on Amazon. The book’s advice was simple and clear: Don’t play tug-of-war, always keep slack in the leash, time your praise and scolding well. If it seems like Toby is being spiteful, he’s not – he’s just confused by inconsistency or ambiguity.
Underneath it all is an assumption about me that is far more important than any single training tip: That I am capable of being patient with my new dog. Without patience, none of this matters. Without the ability to clean up diarrhea for three days and not lose my sh*t at a 25 pound animal, I’m toast. I won’t be a good owner, and I’ll be left with something less than a great dog. Just like you can’t eat healthy without discipline, you can’t train a dog without patience.
But I am not a patient person! I struggle to sit still through a meandering story or unclear argument. I bounce from foot to foot in a sluggish Chipotle line, and my chest starts to tighten anytime my Dad asks for more than five minutes of my help in the yard. I overtake people on the sidewalk with a vengeance. I eat my food cold rather than wait two minutes for it to heat up.
And yet… I am patient sometimes. I’ll gladly help a friend move, or teach someone something at work. I can take a long-term approach to my career, and be satisfied with slow, incremental progress towards a goal. Just look at this website.
The more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes that it’s not me who’s impatient. It’s my choices. When I meet somebody new, and I want to make a good impression, I’m the most patient person in the world. Same goes for coworkers whose respect I would like to earn. But my family? They’re stuck with me! Why waste my patience on them, right? As James Clear writes in Atomic Habits:
Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.
To be more patient, then, requires me to cast more votes in that direction. And to raise Toby the right way, what matters are my choices today – not the choices I’ve made in the past.
Every single label we give ourselves can be broken down like this. I used to swear I was an introvert, who disliked meeting new people. And in college, that was largely true – I shied away from making new friends once I felt good with the friends I had.
But that’s not true anymore. I seek out opportunities to meet new people. I enjoy leading a classroom or a meeting at work. And with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that it wasn’t true back then, either. I avoided new people in certain settings – usually based on some judgement I made about them – and I made quick friends in others. I was always casting votes – only now I do so more intentionally.
This list of labels goes on and on. Am I athletic? Not sure – I can outrun most people I know, but I suck at many common sports. Am I masculine? Not sure of that either – I don’t like to gamble or play poker, but love violent movies and rare burgers. I’m both selfish and selfless; I’m even-keeled and ready to blow. It depends when you ask.
So are all labels just a bunch of bullsh*t? No. When someone says they’re a runner, I know we have something in common. When someone says they’re vegetarian, I know not to offer them a bite of my chicken sandwich.
But those aren’t the labels that mess us up. Where we get stuck are the characteristics we ascribe to ourselves: I’m a worrier, I’m unlucky, I’m a bad friend. Or those we deny ourselves: I’m not nice, I’m not lovable, I’m not disciplined, I’m not smart.
The labels we use should have objective measurements. I am tall in most places I go. I do like to read. But what does it mean for me to be a bad friend? I may not be able to grow two inches, but I can easily be kind, supportive and dependable with a friend. Those aren’t static qualities.
At a certain point, though, we’ve cast enough votes in one direction that other people start to apply our labels for us. Show up late to dinner with friends enough times, and be Always Late. Be rude to coworkers, and become a Rude Coworker. Eventually, you will be considered a Bad Friend even if you have the capacity of being a good one.
And once we’re labeled, we’re inclined to cast our votes in the direction of that label. If I’m Unathletic, what are the chances I ever take up a new sport? If I’m Unlucky, what are the chances I’ll take new risks? If I’m Impatient, what are the chances I give Toby the care and attention his training deserves?
Our only hope is to break down our labels into these bite-sized votes. Each moment finds us at a crossroads. We are always free to do something unexpected. On Monday I can tell someone at work to go f*ck themselves. It will be uncharacteristic, but I can do it. Just like I can choose this week as the week I reconnect with an old friend, despite being a Bad Communicator, or can choose tonight to stay up late, despite being Anxious About My Sleep. No path is fully shut to any of us.
Imagine if you had to act uncharacteristically. What would you do? Would you tip 50% despite being Cheap? Would you go on a Hinge date despite Hating Online Dating? Would you spend a whole week treating yourself like a queen, despite being Selfless?
The possibilities are endless.
– Emmett
What I’m Reading:
The Difference a Dog Makes – The Half Marathoner
“Part of the reason I love this picture is it captures perfectly who she is; an almost-five-year-old golden retriever who wants to enjoy herself, be with us, and soak in the sun, the air and the moment she’s in.”
How to Deal With Burnout at Work – Nick Wignall
A ton of great content in here – a lot of the signs of burnout Wignall references are not ones I’d thought of before.
What I’m Listening To:
Khe Hy on Rad Reads and Rethinking Productivity – Elevate Podcast