Before we attempt the gigantic task of noticing our own complaining, we need to know what we’re up against…how the Emotional Guidance System fools us into behaving as if our method of attempting to dump anxiety by complaining…actually works.

The worst part about complaining?  Nobody listens. Actually, there are two worst parts.  One: nobody listens…and, Two: as eloquent and observant as I am, I only make myself more miserable.  No… three parts.  Three:  Our complaining annoys people….and being annoying has a price.

Remember:  No one has to change.  But if you stay the same, expect to get what you are already getting. 

The purpose of complaining, of course, is to make known our dislikes and discomforts… so that the people we have enlightened… and the world, in general, will change on hearing our clever comments.  Thus, we will experience less of what bothers us in our little world.  Right?

Never mind that what complaining actually does…is cause us  more distress….Since other people regularly ignore our complaining and the indifferent world can be  cold to our pleas to change.  What happens when we complain about something is that something grows and grows and bugs us even more….Which is not fair.  A case in point–

Dateline:  Interstate 44, passing through Lawton, Oklahoma, in route to family gathering in Oklahoma City.  The plan is to return to Lawton for our overnight on our way back to Texas.  One passenger, a man we shall call Mr. Sensible, mentions he has a reservation at the Motel 6 as we pass his motel of choice. Well, I’m not letting that comment pass.         

In a jaunty mood, I call out the names of the many superior motels on either side of Interstate 44….the  many deserted, clearly available motel choices… superior to the Motel 6… the obviously better choices I shall select from later… as we whiz through Lawton.  Mr. Sensible brushes me off, running on about how ‘Motel 6 is that bad…’  I laugh. 

Throughout the remainder of the day, I manage to work  into every conversation, say 30 or 40 times, how impressed I am to be with a traveller with a reservation at the Motel 6.  After pointing out Mr. Sensible, I,  fool that I am, usually ask,  “Got a dinner reservation at Denny’s?”  I chide, I laugh, I bring up old stories involving money-saving choices made by Mr. Sensible.  Others join my capricious dialogue.  Mr. Sensible, rather accustomed to my foolishness, is undeterred.

How could I know that…all of it…the pointing, the laughing, the old stories…all of these I shall regret.  Deeply regret.  Maybe those I charmed with my cute, self-agrandizing stories…maybe they, too, would regret my shameless merry-making at Mr. Sensible’s expense had they known the future.  Maybe, but not as much as I, and by default, my special person, would come to regret my remarks.

Alas, the family time in Oklahoma City passed and our little touring group, smiles and caramel pie on our lips, we return to Lawton, Oklahoma.  Before reaching the now famous Lawton Motel 6 to drop off Mr. Sensible and wife, we happened upon a lovely Hilton Garden Inn.  “You guys won’t mind if we pull in here to register?”  I asked.  “Go ahead,” they said.  I pulled out my various frequent travel, special person cards and sauntered in.

The desk clerk at the Hilton Garden Inn shook his head.  “No rooms here, ma’am.  There’s a rodeo in town, you see.” 

“Oh, sure.  A rodeo.  How big a deal can a rodeo be?” I asked my fellow travellers as I hopped back into the car.   

Next, Part 2, Complaining Texan Spontaneously Combusts in small Oklahoma Town.