Because my memory, for some odd reason, is now approximately as reliable as that of a moldy turnip, I asked my wife to give me a to-do list, in writing, so I don’t have to keep saying, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”
On the list was “replace bulbs in dining room light fixture.”
The reason this is my job is not that my wife isn’t a strong, capable woman. It’s that she’s a strong, capable woman who’s five feet tall.
Our dining room light fixture has three bulbs in it, and without me noticing, we were down to one that actually lit up. I put all new ones in, took the dead Asian beetles out of the glass thing that hangs under the bulbs, hit the on switch and was blinded by the light.
I can’t help but think there’s a lesson in this. It’s so easy to get used to living in the dark, settling for less then you deserve.
Many years ago, a farm management instructor told me this story. His specialty was helping farmers become more efficient. He started to work with a dairy farmer who was really struggling to get things done. He showed up at the farm early in the morning, so he could follow the farmer and get an insight into his daily routine. The farmer led the way to the dairy barn, went through the door and flipped on the light switch. The fluorescent light closest to the door lit up.
For those of you who don’t know how a fluorescent light works, there’s a thing called a ballast that creates a surge of voltage to kick the light into gear. After the light is on, it isn’t needed anymore.
Anyway, the efficiency expert noticed that on the light that was illuminated, the ballast was hanging down, dangling from a couple of wires. The farmer turned a five-gallon bucket upside down, stepped up on it, unfastened the wires holding the ballast and then moved to the next light, twisting those wires into place until the light flickered on. He repeated the procedure throughout the whole barn. It took him about ten minutes to get all the lights on and then the milking process began. The instructor tactfully asked what the deal was with the lights. The farmer explained that some time ago one of the ballasts had burned out and instead of ordering a new one, he just shared a good one between two lights. Over the years more and more ballasts had burned out until only one was functional. He had always intended to fix them all, but dairy farmers are busy, and there was never a need to add another task on any given day. Of course, spending ten minutes a day turning the lights on used up far more time and energy than just repairing them, but he had slowly worked his way into a situation that any rational observer would consider ridiculous.
It’s funny the things you get used to. You can have the best of intentions, yet wind up taking one step at a time until you’re surprised that you’ve gotten to a place where no one wants to go.
And if you’re not careful, you won’t be able to find your way back.
Copyright 2025 Brent Olson
Normalization of deviance works until it doesn’t.