You know whats Not on Roids, folks? Complaining! Seriously, it’s practically a national pastime. We all do it. But why? Are we just born with a gene for grumbling, destined to bemoan the price of avocados and the audacity of squirrels? According to Psychology Today (and some poor soul named Scott Eberle who studies play, seriously?), theres actually a disturbing reason behind our collective misery-fest.
Apparently, elderly folks glued to cable news are particularly susceptible. They’re trapped in this “doom cycle” – threats declared on TV, followed by fleeting emotional relief, then… BAM! More threats. It erodes their confidence and leaves them feeling thwarted, helpless, exposed, victimized, and isolated.” Eberle calls these perpetually pessimistic pensioners geezers, and their constant negativity? “Geezing.” Charming, right?
But it’s not just the over-65 crowd! We all complain. And it turns out, were strategically miserable. Yes, you heard that right. It’s a tactic! According to one longtime professor (who I assume had plenty of time to observe this phenomenon), we vent about things we feel powerless to change: rising prices, the weather – because apparently sunshine is now an affront – and the sheer incompetence of other drivers.
Think about it. Kids in the backseat whining on a road trip? Complaining! Retirement home residents griping about lukewarm mashed potatoes? You betcha! Faculty moaning about administrators? Standard operating procedure! It’s a hierarchy thing, apparently. We complain to people of similar status because…well, whos going to rat you out to your tormentor if theyre also in the trenches?
The article suggests that actually doing something – criticizing or correcting – is too much effort. Complaining is just… easier. Safer. It’s a passive-aggressive way of saying, I acknowledge this awful thing exists and I am deeply unhappy about it, without actually having to, you know, do anything.
So next time you find yourself griping about the baristas questionable latte art, remember: You’re participating in a carefully orchestrated performance of powerlessness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to complain about something.
