The Eye of the Storm
I recently received a text from a friend informing me that she had just tested positive for COVID. The day before she was to board a plane to visit her mother, her mom called to tell her she had a sore throat. My friend decided that a sore throat can be a symptom of many things—she and her small child headed to the airport. Her mom tested positive for COVID one day after they arrived and my friend tested positive a few days later.
My friend’s saga reminded me of the time I drove into the eye of a storm. I had packed up my brand new sportscar and my daughter and drove south where we had rented a beach house on an island off the coast of Florida. After driving several hours, we pulled off the highway for lunch. Concerned about my new car, I parked far away from others and slipped into a window seat at the restaurant so that I could keep an eye on my car. The sky darkened and the winds picked up; in horror, I watched a metal shingle fly off the roof of a nearby building and fall squarely on my new car.
The car was drivable. Undaunted, we continued our trip as the weather became more ominous; unbeknownst to us, we were driving into a tropical storm. By the time we reached our destination, only a convenience store was open where we purchased Cheerios and milk. Shortly thereafter, the sole bridge leading to the island was flooded. We spent the next few days hunkered down in our swaying beach house, too frightened to sleep with only Cheerios and milk to sustain us.
Red Flags vs White Flags
Why do we ignore all the red flags, the warning signs that danger lies ahead, and stubbornly stay the course? Part of the problem is that we get very attached to our plans. But as Dwight Eisenhower once said, “plans are useless but planning is indispensable.” We need to be able to tweak our plans with additional data—we need to pivot.
Of course, one can go crazy with seeing red flags everywhere. I believe that one reason I don’t change my plans when the data tells me my plans need tweaking is that I’m not sure if my data is trustworthy— if my reluctance is fear-based or reality-based. Sometimes the red flags could be white ones; I worry that I’m retreating from life’s experiences.
Fear or Fact
One can develop a bad case of agoraphobia by seeing red flags everywhere. We can become paralyzed by our fears. In hindsight, many of our decisions might be deemed foolhardy. Short of death or dismemberment, however, we mostly recover from our foolish decisions.
Many of our decisions are based on an internal cost/benefit analysis. Sometimes we overestimate the risks and sometimes we underestimate them; our willingness to assume risk is highly influenced by perceived benefits. In the case of my friend visiting her mom, the benefit of visiting her mom and taking a break from her daily grind outweighed the perceived risk. In my case, the benefit of a beach vacation (and the upfront costs of said vacation) outweighed the dangers.
Unprotected sex and driving under the influence are just two examples of underestimating risks. Opting for extreme medical interventions is another example of how we may underestimate the risks and overestimate the benefits.
The Goldilocks Principle
Risk tolerance varies from person to person—this we know. And, of course, sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know. If the pandemic taught us anything, it is that we can’t make good decisions based on our beliefs and hopes alone. Early on, most of us thought we’d be back to normal in a couple of weeks. Then we frantically wiped down our groceries before learning that the risk of the virus living on surfaces was low.
Because weighing the risks vs. the rewards is tricky and influenced by a combination of personality characteristics and knowledge, no clear formula exists about when to proceed with our plans and when to alter our plans in the face of danger. Knowing that life doesn’t come without its risks, we need to assess how much risk we’re willing to tolerate in any given situation. Leading our lives with too much fear or too little is problematic. We need to apply the Goldilocks principle to making such decisions.
As I think about my misadventures, I realize there is an added benefit to some of my lapses of judgment. Assuming we survive relatively unscathed, our questionable decisions provide us with entertaining stories to tell.
“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”
—Lao Tzu