Optimism
“Hello. Welcome to the Borengasser Institute of Mindless Optimism. You are all here today because you have suffered a misfortune or endured a catastrophe. Or perhaps you are simply feeling depressed. My job is to help you find some reason for optimism … whether you want it or not.
“Let’s get started, shall we? Who’ll go first? Come on, somebody speak up. How about you? Yes, you in the body cast. Tell us what happened.”
A slight man, somewhat shy, nervously stammers, “I fell off the roof while I was cleaning out the gutter.”
“A one-story building, or two?” I ask.
“One story.”
“That was lucky.”
“But I can’t even walk.”
“Negative thoughts make it worse,” I remind him. “Look on the bright side. Now, you’ll get the best parking spot at the supermarket.”
“But I can’t drive either.”
“Wow. No more traffic to worry about. You can drop your car insurance.”
“But I’ll be in this cast for a year.”
“You’ll finally have some time to yourself. Time to do whatever you want – as long as it doesn’t require any movement, of course.”
“But I broke both arms, both legs, my collarbone, and six ribs.”
“Was your back broken?”
“No.”
“That’s terrific! Nothing worse than back problems.”
# # # # #
This scenario didn’t really happen, but the lovely Mrs. Borengasser is convinced that it could. She thinks that anytime someone is feeling melancholy or is upset, and makes the mistake of telling me, I’ll immediately begin smothering him or her with optimism.
At first, I thought this was a compliment.
It wasn’t.
# # # # #
I have just arrived home from work.
“How was your day?” I ask the lovely Mrs. Borengasser.
“Terrible.”
“What happened,” I inquire, concerned.
“I went to the post office this morning to buy some stamps. When I came back out, the car wouldn’t start.”
“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen in rush hour. Or on a bridge. What did you do?”
“I had it towed to a service station. It turned out the battery was dead. I had to buy a new one.”
“We should be thankful it wasn’t the transmission.”
“Then, this afternoon, the power went out and wiped out eight pages of work on the computer. It took me three hours to rewrite it all.”
“Sometimes that can be a blessing in disguise because you might actually improve it.”
At this point, the lovely Mrs. Borengasser screams.
“You’re doing it again,” she accuses.
“Doing what?”
“Being optimistic.”
“I’m just trying to make you feel better,” I explain.
“I don’t want to feel better. I want to feel miserable. I’ve had a perfectly dreadful day. I’ve earned this rotten mood. I’d like to wallow in it a while. I don’t need someone to waltz in and spoil it for me.”
I pause to think this over. “Maybe you’re right,” I finally admit.
She’s surprised. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I certainly do. You know, it’s actually good to feel down in the dumps occasionally. It heightens your appreciation of the good times. Besides, keeping your frustrations all bottled up isn’t healthy.”
At this point, the lovely Mrs. Borengasser screams.