expectations

the dark side of conscientiousness

Stanley Pinker, Sun and moon flower

For as long as I can remember, being conscientious was a good thing. Friends who are conscientious tend to be very reliable. They don’t flake or forget important details. Conscientious coworkers are the ones you never have to chase down to get something you asked for. They’re proactive, diligent, accomplished. If I had to define “conscientiousness,” it would be the desire to do a good job in whatever role you take on, whether that’s being a student, friend, partner, boss, parent, etc.

The operative word here is “good.” For conscientious people, “good” is a combination of what’s morally and ethically right and a high standard of excellence. Where conscientiousness breaks down is when you apply your own standard of “good” to other people and expect them to treat you with the same level of care and attention. Maybe there exists a rare breed of individual who’s conscientious with no expectation of reciprocity, but I think the vast majority of us carry some standard of behavior that we apply to ourselves and others.

When people ask me for things at work, I want to be as helpful as I can, especially if I can appreciate the importance of what they’re trying to accomplish. A coworker once asked me for a slide to include in his presentation. It seemed like a small ask, but I didn’t take it well because:

1. I did not have the slide he wanted and would have to build it from scratch

2. I was already very busy, preparing for our big annual conference the following week

3. What he was asking for required that I gather information from many different teams that were also swamped with said event

4. He gave me very short notice

So I basically told him it was an unfair request and can he please plan ahead next time. I reacted from a place of stress, and my tone probably came across as somewhat harsh. He passive-aggressively told me to chill out, which bothered me even more. We cleared the air later and laughed about it, but it struck me that had I not tried to “rise to the occasion,” we both would’ve been better off.

Stressful circumstances can bring out the worst in conscientious people. A less conscientious person might’ve glanced at his request, thought, “no way, dude,” and ignored it, not caring if he got what he needed. If I hadn’t responded, he probably would’ve assumed I was too busy and wouldn’t bother me.

The curse of being conscientious is that you tend to hold other people to the extremely high standards that you set for yourself. Part of my strong reaction had to do with the fact that I expected him to be more considerate of my time and capacity because I would’ve given him the same courtesy.

This type of dynamic is heightened in romantic relationships. A friend and I noticed we were always the ones finding fault in our respective partners’ behaviors. They never expressed annoyance with us. We’re obviously not perfect. Are men just more laidback, less fussy? There’s probably a lot more to this, but I think part of the reason is that we’re both much more conscientious than our partners.

Whether at work or in my personal life, I’m very good about responding to messages: on average, within an hour; usually no longer than 12 hours (if it takes longer than that, I probably never intended to respond). I don’t like the feeling that I’m keeping someone waiting. It’s rare for me to forget that I have to get back to someone about something. And I try not to commit to plans unless I’m fairly confident I can carry through with them.

I’m diligent about these things because I don’t like it when other people take days to respond to me or cancel last minute. The more I care about the person, the more it hurts. Because it seems like they have too many other priorities that take precedence over dashing off a 30-second response, that they don’t care that I’m left wondering about their silence. It’s easy to come to the conclusion that they don’t value me as much as I value them. And maybe that’s true. But I also have to remind myself that it’s pointless to compare how much we value each other because you can’t know another person’s experience, and they might not find the same actions hurtful, so they’re not as careful about avoiding them.

It’s important to acknowledge when someone’s behavior bothers us (our feelings are valid and shouldn’t be swept under the rug), but it’s equally important to recognize that people are just different and strange and maddening. There’s an ethos around “living lightly” that I need to embrace. Instead of feeling stung, how freeing would it be to laugh and say, “well, they’re just doing them”?

There’s a rigidity in the conscientious mindset that I’m trying to dismantle. It limits our capacity to empathize with people who have certain quirks or foibles. Accepting someone with all their imperfections is to acknowledge their humanity. And I think it starts with accepting my own need to be imperfect: to not always respond right away, to slip up and forget things, to cancel last minute. The more conscientious you are, the more you need to give yourself a break.