Happiness is overrated. You can bank on it.
The news out of Yale University last week was that the pursuit of happiness can sometimes make you less happy. This could not have made me, well, happier. Off with their smiling heads! I have ranted before about my distrust of über- happy people. And that bouncing yellow happy face people put at the end of their e-mails? Don’t get me going.
That’s why I love the title of Jeanette Winterson’s new memoir: Why Be Happy When You Could be Normal?
Yale psychologist June Gruber, who headed up the just-released study, compared happiness to food. Too much can cause problems. It can even lead to bad outcomes.
Tell me about it. Just last week, as the study was being released, I was being interviewed over the phone by a perky woman who works for Gallup. She was surveying me about the service I get at my bank. I wanted to hang up.
My favorite question: Did I feel “special” when I left the bank? Special?
No. I felt poor. It would take an interest rate over 1% to make me feel special.
I rarely go into the bank anymore, since everyone there is so happy to see me. It’s Mr. Wilson this, Mr. Wilson that. It’s like Cheers, but unfortunately, they don’t serve drinks.
I use the ATM as much as possible now. It doesn’t talk to me. It doesn’t tell me to have a nice day or ask if there’s anything else it can do for me. It hums and groans, spits out a few bills and is done with me. Neat and clean.
I’m not sure when this let’s - all - behappy -together trend started.
Not that I’m a curmudgeon. I’ve been known to be happy on occasion. And I’ll confess that I’m miffed when people don’t at least say hello when I say hello to them. It happens every morning when I’m walking my dog, Maggie. I see the same people because we’re all on the same schedule. Think Truman Show.
“Hello!” I’ll say, and get nothing in return, not that I want an actual conversation at that hour. But is a simple “Hello!” too much to ask? So now, I’ve started answering myself. “And hello to you!” I’ll respond within earshot of the passing person. I suspect most of these people by now think I’m just a crazy person talking to himself.
That’s fine. Just as long as they don’t think I’m some relentlessly happy guy who works at a bank.
That would not make me happy.