Domestic Blindness, like it’s better known cousin Colour Blindness, is a genetic condition affecting more men than women. And guys, between us for just a second, I know that it’s easier to ask mum/girlfriend/wife where something is, than doing it for ourselves, but I think there’s a point where it’s no longer age-appropriate.
That point is any time after your 30th birthday. However, there is a simple cure that I developed several years ago when I first lived on my own. Having come from a co-habitation scenario where I regularly and hilariously said, “Honey, do you know where the _____ is,” I now found myself with no one of whom to ask this question.
So instead, I took my Domestic Blindness into the workplace and regularly needed assistance in finding things I had misplaced. Naturally I abided by state and national laws and didn’t use the endearment “honey”. But the principle was the same.
What I discovered was that within thirty seconds of a female co-worker saying something along the lines of, “I don’t know, where did you last see it?” or sometimes, “Don’t bother me f___ker I’ve got to finish this report,” invariably the missing item would turn up.
Suddenly I was ignited by the scientific curiosity that led our species to the light-bulb, the atom bomb and Post-It notes. I wondered, what if, instead of asking the question, I didn’t say anything and kept searching for another thirty seconds?
The results were astounding. If something was missing – a calculator, a stapler, a donor organ – that “helpless and lazy” part of my brain would light up, the question would form, but I uttered not a sound and continued searching. Nine out of ten times the missing item would be found within half a minute.
Now, this won’t suit every guy, but surely we don’t want to be a hapless Darren Stevens-type sitcom schmo who doesn’t know how to find his arse with both hands. Think Rick Moranis in…well, any movie he’s ever made.
And if it’s any consolation, we can start doing it again when we’re living in the Shady Acres Aged-Care facility. “Honey, do you know where my high-pants are?”
Elevate the Insignificant