THE SPIRIT OF GIVING

While getting my oil changed today, I was waiting in the cramped, stinky “lobby” of the ineptly named “xpress lube” and was surprised to find a high-class Economist magazine among so many other issues of Nascar Review and US Weekly. I quickly grabbed for the mature rag (no doubt pilfered from a dentist’s office) and flipped past thirty pages of British critique of Bush and Company to find an article reviewing the psychology of giving. This article was both fascinating and depressing.

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Early in my psychology studies as an undergrad I came across the “social exchange theory”. This bastard child of pessimistic research nerds tries to gratify their anti-social traits by attributing every social relationship or seemingly altruistic action to a simple “we give to get” premise. In other words, this theory states we only interact when it is in our own self-interests. This makes no exception for casual conversation, token gifts, or random acts of kindness – all of these things are done to score points to be cashed in later for some specific purpose. Thus, when I go out to my porch whenever I smell cigarette smoke, hoping to find one or both of my treasured neighbors outside sucking down some sweet nicotine and pining for two minutes of conversation, I am really going out there to put a few coins in the Hatch and MJB banks to gain their favor in case I need something from them later on – and they put up with my nearly incoherent ramblings about the damn cat because they want to invest in Bry should they run out of beer and want to bum one from me.

Having sifted through my fair share of psychological teachings, and being a logical person, I understand this theory at its core. It makes sense on a basic level, but who the hell would want to admit or believe that their friendships are based solely on the intrinsic value to be extracted from them in a time of need? That, my friends, is truly depressing, and is something I am not willing to subscribe to.

So how does the oil change article relate? It stated that men only perform selfless acts (volunteering, donations, etc.) in order to show off to the opposite sex as part of a larger courting ritual. Specifically, men want to exhibit how well-off they are by making it clear they have enough excess to be able to throw some of their time and money at things women will appreciate. A study cited by this article showed that men would not donate anonymously nor would they do volunteer work that gave them little to no exposure as they would not be getting the attention and admiration from women that supposedly motivated them in the first place.

As the article asserts the social exchange theory, it puts another nail in the coffin and in short made me feel like a real douchebag. I started to wonder, do I act this way? Do I give only in order to receive? I like to think not, or at least I like to think I know when I am doing so. While I have done things that felt, at the time, to be selfless and altruistic, I can look back and see how I might have done those things due to a subconscious realization that I had something to gain. What about you?

update

well wouldn’t you know it, the first thing out of that patient’s mouth was, “so, did you have lunch with your dad today?” gotta give him points for consistency. also, one more unrelated but choice quote: “they offered me a hundred thousand dollars to find the tanzanite sandals.”

psychotic interaction, v.1

 

i came to work two days ago and had this incredibly strange yet contextually typical conversation.

a patient asks me, “do you know where the half-eaten hamburgers are?”

i say, “pardon me?”

“you know what i’m talking about, the half-eaten hamburgers, in the plastic bag, by the dumpster? tell me where they went.”

i simply respond, “i don’t know where they are, i’m sorry.”

“yeah, you do, they weren’t hamburgers, they are really trinkets, magical golden trinkets. where are they?”

again, my response is simple. “i apologize, i don’t know where they are. maybe they’ll turn up somewhere.”

“i have two eyeballs. have you met my friend butthead? it’s him and beavis.”

now, this patient has been diagnosed with “psychotic disorder NOS (not otherwise specified)”, a catch-all term for “we don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, and what’s with the hamburgers? here’s some pills, you crazy fuck.” interacting with him is a challenge, needless to say, as his incredibly random statements almost require some kind of innate skill. i sure as shit know i couldn’t make up something as bizarre as that, at least not without extensive planning.

later the same afternoon he engaged me in conversation once again, this time with two words:

“prime rib.”

i say, “pardon me?” which is my standard response. it gives me time to process what is happening.

“black angus.”

as this conversation is happening amid dinner, it seems somewhat plausible that his thoughts about food are somehow related. in response i say, “it’s great, but i’ve been there only once.”

“maybe he’ll take you there.”

“who will take me there?”

“your dad, he’s in town. i’ll tell him where you are.”

note two things about this: one, my dad is in fact NOT in town, and the patient cannot tell him where i am as he has no clue who my dad is. hmm.

i decide at this point to play along somewhat, because the patient seems pleased that he has broken the news of my father’s arrival to bellingham. “i wasn’t aware he’s around, he didn’t tell me he was coming.” i realize that i am stringing the conversation along and perpetuating his delusion but i am far too curious to stop.

“medium rare.”

[i wait.]

“medium rare is the way to go. or rare.”

thus ends the conversation. i give him points for consistency and a somewhat organized thought process as the next two days he asked me if my dad had taken me out for prime rib yet. hmm. my parents are on their way up tomorrow and if i can talk them into buying me prime rib i am going to shit my pants.