Justify My Lie

Posted by fxckfeelings on August 20, 2009

We teach children that lying is bad, period. As adults, we agree with that statement, but can find any number of reasons why our own lies should be considered an exception. Bad or not, lies will, more often then not, get you into trouble, so you have to weigh the pros and cons of each piece of bullshit before you unleash it. If you think your lie is justified because of unfairness, or if you just lie out of habit despite your better judgment—if you’re so full of bullshit you need a bib before you speak—then you should stop looking for excuses and learn to shut your mouth.
–Dr. Lastname

I’m a landscape designer, and I’ve just spent 6 months living in planning hell with a pretty difficult client. We had different visions from the start, but he insisted I was the man for the job, even though we differed on every decision, every step of the way. And really, I was willing to put up with it if it meant getting to do the grounds (you heard me) on this guy’s country estate, which was an extensive project that would’ve paid a ton and given me the chance to do something spectacular that could gain me a national reputation. Finally, we agreed to some blue prints, which he paid for…right before firing me. Now, I know that he paid for the plans and they’re technically his, but the thing is, I put half a year into putting this project together—and turned down a lot of other work because I thought I’d need the time to make it happen—and if he’s going to screw me over like this, I feel like he deserves to get screwed over right back. He’s called asking for the plans, and I keep making excuses as to why I can’t give them to him, but he keeps pushing, and now I’m stuck. Should I tell him the truth, that he’ll get those plans over my dead body, or should I relent and give him the plans along with a piece of my mind? I know you dismiss the notion of justice, but this is my livelihood, and my goal is to get what’s owed me.

Cases like this are the reason you have ethical rules, so you’ll do what you think is right, regardless of provocations by the egregious assholes who are drawn to be your clients. Lucky for you, you at least acknowledge this is a dilemma, instead of feeling entitled to a landscaper jihad, so there’s hope for you yet.

Look, if you’re in the landscape designing business, most of your clients are richer than you are. Just on a practical level for your quest, that means they can higher bigger lawyers and fund battles that can outlast any puny resources you can haul out of your pockets.

Being rich also brings out the inner asshole, so your profession will naturally attract more of them than a Crane’s white porcelain standard edition. So if you feel that war is your calling, drop this business and go carve out runways and golf courses for a tour at Fallujah.

Plus, rich people tend to travel in packs, and that pack makes much of your possible client pool. Make one of them your enemy, and suddenly you’ll find yourself with a lot of free time on your hands.

Attacking this client might, you guessed it, feel good, but the long term effects, like going to court and/or going out of business, won’t feel so great. Feeling frustrated and screwed will also feel subpar, but again, better to feel screwed than actually be screwed when you’re out of work and professionally radioactive.

But if your goal isn’t to punish assholes but make art out of nature—and I assume that’s why you went into your life of work in the first place—then eating shit is part of the job description. Check your professional ethics to see how much shit you should expect for your portion of the meal.

Probably, your professional society would tell you the following: you have a right to get your client to waive the right to hold you liable for damages that happens as a result of his using your drawings. You have a right to expect him to pay fully for your time in creating the drawings. Then they’re his. Dinner is served.

Next time, don’t be so hungry for the big job, and you won’t wind up dining at la table de merde. You probably knew he liked to dangle people on strings and then cut them loose, but you thought you’d be the exception. Now you’re angry, but wiser nonetheless.

STATEMENT:
Console yourself with a statement. “I like what I created and I learned much from the creative and interpersonal process. And sometimes, doing this job, I will wind up feeling used and humiliated, no matter how careful I am or how big my reputation grows. I’m proud of my ability to absorb the pain and keep on doing my job.”

I’m taking a semester off college this fall, and I’d like to go back for the spring, but the problem is, really, that I can’t stop myself from lying. I’ve always been this way; I know the truth, but I’d rather tell people what I think they want to hear, so before I even know what’s happening, not-the-truth is coming out of my mouth, and it’s stupid, so I always get caught and people are much, much angrier than if I told the truth. I can speak so frankly about this because my mom’s been shuttling me to therapists since I was 10, but nobody’s been able to figure out why I do it or how I can stop it. I got in major trouble last year at school…I don’t want to say how exactly, but of course it involved telling a massive lie, and my school spared me expulsion but I had to agree to take some time off. I’m afraid to go back though if I’m just going to end up getting in trouble again…the older I get, the higher the stakes get, the bigger my problem becomes. My goal, as always, is to control my lying.

The good news is you’re in good company; there are some very nice compulsive liars. The bad news is that you’re not alone because compulsive lying is a common problem which compulsive liars have a hard time overcoming.

For whatever reason, it’s more stigmatized than alcoholism (somewhere between being a junkie and a child abuser) so it’s hard for liars to write about it or seek out one another for support. (Unless you’re from Crete—that’s a classical allusion, from Harvard).

Therapy has probably showed you why you’re a liar, with the usual short list of reasons. You want attention, hate to displease people, need to express inner rebelliousness, want to punish yourself, feel compelled to react to an intrusive mother/distant father/vice versa/whatever. And after learning all that, and talking to a therapist you really liked and trusted…you’re still a compulsive liar who now failed at therapy. Who to blame first, your therapist, your distant father, or yourself. I’m guessing you blame yourself.

Moi, I can’t tell a lie, so it saddens me to inform you that you will probably never control your lying completely. I don’t know why, but that’s the way it is. (That sums up a lot of what I learned at Harvard).

Let’s think, instead, about what you can do about it. You can become a writer (most writing is a kind of lying). Most politicians share your curse and have an instinct to tell people what they want to hear, but, as you’ve experienced, that can get them into big trouble if they’re too talented. Again, you’re not alone, but you probably shouldn’t run for office any time soon.

In the meantime, you can form a Liars Anonymous group of one, and use 12 step ideas to manage the impulse. Look for triggering situations and strategize how to manage them, and always try to keep your mouth shut until you have a chance to think.

Develop polite, ethical formulaic responses to difficult questions that will buy you time. Don’t blame yourself for the problem, just do your best with it. And even if these techniques work, don’t ever tell yourself you’re cured, because, as if I need to tell you, that’s total bullshit. You’ve just got to take it one lie at a time.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to start your day: “I’m a liar and I can’t control it, but I take the problem very seriously because it prevents anyone from trusting me, including me. So I try to accept the shame of being a liar and let people know I’m a liar who tries to fight the lying impulsive every day of my life and, whenever I do that honestly, I’m proud.”