You Too Can
Become An Optimist!
by Gwen Boswell
I think it would be fair to
say, that everyone, even the most optimistic,
bubbliest of characters have down-in-the-dumps
days (what does that even mean?), where they feel
at odds with the world at large (and that too!).
For your regular type of optimist, and I am lucky
enough to be a member of that happy, occasionally
boring, but without a doubt often extremely
irritating band of people, it is very easy for us
to realise it’s just one of our rare blue
moods. We therefore convince ourselves that by
tomorrow, we will have snapped right out of it
and will be back to realising that the very
famous glass is half full once more. Not only
will the glass be half full, but it will be half
full of something really scrumptious and it is
likely be a lovely glass too, probably blue and
sparkly and on a table covered with a really
delightful tablecloth, almost certainly
embroidered. The sun will be shining through the
half full glass and the birds will be singing as
they flutter by admiring the pretty glass. Anyway,
I think you get my drift....
Alas, for our opposite kind
- the pessimists - it is a very different story.
If only life was as simple for these people as it
is for us. It goes without saying that on their
bad days, or should I say worse days, not only is
the glass, as usual, half empty, but who cares
about the stupid glass and how much is in it in
the first place!? It’s a glass for goodness
sake. If that’s all they had to worry about,
how much was in a glass, life would be very easy
and the pessimists could have time off worrying
about the true state of important matters and
join the silly bright-eyed, bushy tailed optimist
brigade. Matters like the possibility of rain
tomorrow (probable) and if they will need to take
their umbrellas to work (likely), which of course
means they will need to get an earlier train (inconvenient),
to be sure of a seat (uncertain), so they do not
have to stand holding said umbrella, briefcase
and newspaper (damn near impossible). You can see
the complex lives our pessimists’ lead.
But for both outlooks, if
we think deeply about the consequences of the
contrary happening under certain given
circumstances, I am convinced our responses would
be almost the same. Now we won’t get too
serious about this. We will dump world peace,
global warming, religious disharmony, nuclear
disarmament and cricket, recognising that these
subjects are for discussion on a far higher plane.
However, I will endeavour to provide the
pessimists with a scenario to consider which may,
note may, swing them over to the other side and
think, "Oh my goodness, how lucky was that!"
‘Lucky’ is a pretty innocuous type of
word unless you are a pessimist; as for these
worrywarts ‘lucky’ has four letters. (NB:
It also has four letters for very poor spellers
too).
So pessimists, I offer you
a test involving the humble safety pin, chucked
at the bottom of a drawer (you can never find one
when you want one and when you don’t want
one, you find it sticking out from under your
nail when you are looking for batteries, or an
envelope or something). But today, on the way
into a very important meeting, where you, my
example, is to stand on a small podium and
undertake a PowerPoint presentation, find that
your trouser flies has broken, exposing the Bart
Simpson underpants that Nanna thought you might
like for Christmas. Surely, on sighting a shiny
safety pin on the floor two minutes before
proposing to enter the meeting room, you would
think, "Gee, that was lucky!"
For the ladies, virtually
the same scenario applies, differing only in that
the embarrassing gaping hole appears due to a
popped off button just at the point where those
of us that can remember the complexities of our
first aid course should commence CPR. Swap the
Bart Simpson’s for a dingy, once white bra,
which has seen better days and really doesn’t
go with your snazzy suit. Again, a pin, just a
silly old pin could be your salvation. How
marvellous would it be to find one! How lucky! I
know you are thinking the pin would likely stick
into your finger as you rearrange your bosom in
order to pin your blouse together and you’d
therefore get blood on your blouse. Or for the
male pessimists, the pin would stick into you and
– no, the pin sticking into you is probably
enough for you to cope with the given example.
But this pin doesn’t. In both cases it saves
the day and you climb onto your podium with
confidence and vigour, knowing that the parts of
your anatomy that should never be seen during a
presentation are safely tucked away behind your
strong little metal friend.
Come on, this has to make
you grateful for the little pluses in life! Just
think of the consequences of not finding the pin.
You may soldier on with your presentation,
thinking that you have done enough with doing up
the last button on your jacket to hide your
embarrassing predicament, but perspiration would
inevitably begin to bead on your brow. You would
start wondering if Bart Simpson’s cheeky
grin is peeping out from behind a curtain of
silver teeth, distracting your audience when you
are in the middle of a very involved talk on the
merits of door knob manufacturing. You would be
straining to hear if any one is chuckling. Oh for
a pin, you would inwardly groan.
So there we have it, and I
wait to be inundated with mail from pessimists
everywhere, thanking me for changing their
thinking on life. If after a fortnight, I am not
in receipt of hundreds of thank-you letters, I
will assume that the pessimists, on reading the
word ‘optimist’ and ‘glass’
in the first paragraph, panicked, then swore and
quickly turned the page.
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