The Buddha taught us that life is filled with suffering, and if you think that’s a pretentious way to begin a paragraph, wait until you read the next one.
The Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca taught us that “we suffer more in imagination than in reality.” Seneca’s point, which he made over and over again in his letters and essays, is that if suffering is on its way (and it is), it’s a foolish waste of time and energy to fret about it ahead of time. Pain will find us all soon enough, Seneca believed, and when we anticipate it, all we do is increase it, which is why I busy myself on my phone with Instagram and Twitter whenever I’m at the doctor to get a flu shot or have my blood drawn. I don’t need to see the needles and the vials and imagine how they’ll feel. I’ll feel them when I feel them.
For the past few days, I’ve been thinking deeply about pain and suffering because I have needed to go to the local Spectrum cable store to replace my old cable modem and change the billing information on my account. What could be worse than that?
I began Monday morning by cultivating an unhealthy mental attitude. Not only did I imagine my future suffering — the lines at the Spectrum store would be long, my account would be impossible to find, and I would need some obscure document or number I do not have and do not know — but I experienced rising anger and frustration at what was surely to come. By the time I arrived at the Spectrum store at 10:07 a.m., I was at peak pre-irritation.
“Welcome to Spectrum, how can I help you?” asked the cheerful young person with the iPad who greeted me at the door.
“I need to exchange this,” I said, pre-infuriated, holding up my old cable modem, “and I need to change the billing on my account, and I really don’t have all day for … ”
“I can help you over here,” said another cheerful person behind the counter.
I don’t really remember what happened next, except that I was presented with a new piece of equipment that was already registered and assigned to my account, my credit card information was updated, I was hailed with a cheery “happy new year” on my way out, and I found myself on the corner of Broadway and West 4th Street at about 10:16 a.m., mission accomplished, my chest full of unexpressed anger, and my face still locked in a pre-irritated scowl, stomping home like a loaded musket.
In other words, I was mad that I didn’t have anything to be mad at. I was irritated by the utter lack of irritants.
Unfortunately, this is a pattern with me. A day before a plane trip, I start getting mad imagining the lines at the TSA checkpoint. When it turns out that they’re not too bad (which is most of the time), I’m left with no choice but to take it out on the lady at the Cinnabon.
Last month, I lost my wallet and was marching up 6th Avenue imagining the hours I’d have to spend on hold calling credit card customer service, the hassle of dealing with the California Department of Motor Vehicles for a new driver’s license, the irritation of replacing my health insurance card, the difficulty of getting a new gym membership card — I was so lost in a fog of stressed-out anger that I almost didn’t hear the owner of the local bodega running after me, holding out my wallet.
I had dropped it there the day before. He was holding it for me, waiting to see me walk by. It was a very happy moment, but only because I noticed that my Metrocard, which had a balance of $40, was missing. That gave me just enough to be unhappy about, which put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
Rob Long is a television writer and producer and the co-founder of Ricochet.com.
