James Allen
The customer at the auto parts salvage yard needed a used hood for a Volkswagen. So the guy behind the counter called for Bill to pull the hood and hinges from one of the wounded cars in the junk yard. As he reluctantly collected his tools for the task, Bill asked the customer, "You need the hinges too? Those things are a bear to get off! Damn!" Bill was basically good natured, but it was clear he was not thrilled by the task. It was somewhat below his station in the junk yard pecking order. He did not usually, he explained, pull parts. He usually worked on the engines under cover in the garage near the office. Today his choice was to pull the hood or pull an entire clutch assembly. This second choice seemed the worse of the two, so he got one of his comrades to do the clutch.As Bill and the customer walked the rainy hundred yards to the Volkswagens, Bill kept up a steady patter about why he hated working on Volkswagens, and why he particularly hated pulling their hood hinges. His point of view was that the cars were poorly designed from a disassembly point of view. It seems they are designed to hold together tenaciously. Another argument regarding the difficulty with removing the clips that hold on the hinges was that, not only could you not see them while working on them, but like the Japanese, the Germans have small hands, so they don't give the parts puller enough room to reach things. Bill lost some credibility in the customer's eyes with that particular thesis.
With the customer watching for technique tips, since he would have to perform the same operation on his own car to do the repair, Bill worked on the hinges for over an hour. He used screwdrivers, a large prybar, a mallet, and various levers he found lying around the demolished cars. He managed to pry off one hinge in about 45 minutes, but by then his grease covered fingers were painful and numb.
The customer had used the last part of the hour to examine the problem clip. The thing was a piece of sheetmetal the size of a fingernail. It folded over on itself and had a hole in the middle to fit over the post that held the hood hinge in place. On one side the metal was cut away so that the clip could slip sideways off the post if you could raise up the thingamajig that held everything down.
The customer asked if he could try to remove the clip. By now, Bill's hands were in bad shape, as was his mood. The customer felt around for the still unseen hinge clip, lined it up, pushed the screw driver into the clip, elevated the angle of the screwdriver and pushed again. The clip was off. At first Bill didn't believe it was off, but after a little searching the clip was found. With just a little more prying, mostly made necessary by the damage Bill had done to the hinge post, the needed parts were off.
Feeling pretty proud of himself for besting the junkyard guy in a test of wits and manual dexterity, the customer reflected on the different approaches to the same problem.
Bill had approached the task with anger and resentment from the beginning. He had developed an elaborate belief system about German cars, based, as far as we can tell, only on his personal negative experience of dismantling them. He had approached the job as one requiring force and leverage, but not a lot of thought. His prejudices and personal negative experiences prevented him from approaching the problem as easily solvable. As a consequence, his process forced him to work in the cold rain for much longer than was necessary and caused him considerable wear on his hands.
The customer's approach was to face this unfamiliar task as an interesting challenge. The customer prepared his mind by telling himself, "I can do this. It is my intention to do this easily. I will let this problem be solved by thought." The expectation was set for a positive outcome. Not holding with Bill's low opinion of German engineers the customer assumed that the parts were assembled with some logic that could be determined. Viewing the car parts as tools and not enemies, the solution to the problem came naturally, quickly, and with no cursing.
Practice:
Take a few moments to stop and think about your thinking style. Think for a while how you approach activity in your life. Think about how you manage emotions. Can you see a little of Bill in your habits of thinking and feeling?
When you have a task to do, how much do you shade your feelings about it with negative thinking?
How often do you turn a neutral experience into a negative one by your interpretation of the situation?
When you do this, how reliable is the information you use to make your interpretation?
Does it come from prejudice–yours or someone's who taught it to you?
What have you got to lose if you put to rest negative interpretations of neutral events?
Wouldn't life be easier if you consistently saw problems as challenges filled with opportunity?
Wouldn't you be happier if you could approach difficulties with more optimism?
What habits of thinking, perceiving, and feeling get in the way of your happier life?
Would you be willing to remind yourself, as often as it takes, to create a positive framework around your daily life?
© 1996-2001 Tom Barrett