A Fine Kettle Of Fish

“You’re a pessimist,” said Mike my SO (Significant Other).

“If you were more of an optimist, you’d recognize that my pessimism is actually helpful,” I countered.

Mike retreated to his bunker deftly traversing what he perceived as boobytrapped logic. There he engaged in online battles with fellow game players. The fallout from those encounters didn’t upend his homeland harmony.

I, on the other hand, mulled pessimism and how six ounces of frozen fish sparked a philosophical discussion.

Other Fish To Fry

A month ago, I defrosted a haddock for dinner. Following a new recipe garnered from a random website (that probably infested my Mac Pro with malware or viruses or at least unsolicited email notices), I prepared dinner featuring aforementioned fish.

Despite the shallots and mushrooms and a significant amount of my time, the resulting entrée tasted fishy. The strong off taste drove us to scrape our plates into the garbage and order a pizza. 

Now a matching haddock filet lay in a frozen curl encased in a freezer bag. I had asked Mike to choose a fish for the Hemmingway Trout recipe (which worked well with most fish). Fully cognizant of the prior disappointing haddock dinner, Mike chose the same fish for me to cook.

“Haddock?” I protested. “I’m not cooking that haddock. Dump it in the garbage. The last haddock dinner we threw away.”

“Just because the last one tasted bad, doesn’t mean this one will,” Mike said. 

“They look alike and you bought them both at the same time,” I pointed out the date on the freezer bag confident that the evidence supporting my argument would elicit a “You’re right, Anita.”

Instead, Mike accused me of pessimism which prodded me to consider philosophical thoughts about pessimism and Mike to fight his online battles. 

Fishing Around

After an intense twenty-minute online research about pessimism, I found that pessimism was more of a range. I sorted through them to see if I fell in line with any.

Defeatism appeared to be the most intense. It’s when negativity interfered with performance. That didn’t fit the situation. I’d still cook fish, just not that particular piece of haddock. 

Resistance to change described a preference for stability for fear that the status quo would be threatened. I knew I was a good cook. A stinking piece of haddock didn’t change that.

Viewing the past as better than you perceived it at the time, paled the present. 

I held no rosy haddock recollection. I distinctly remembered the horrible taste. 

Focusing on negative information didn’t depict my aversion to cooking the haddock. I was an unbiased fish cook. I stocked anchovies and sardines in my pantry.

Risk aversion was a low risk tolerance. If I had a low risk tolerance, I would’ve chosen the fish myself instead of leaving Mike to make the choice.

Defensive pessimism was critically reviewing a plan and weighing the risks before acting. Bingo! Thinking about the pros and cons of what I’m going to do before I do it sounded like common sense to me.

Everyday Epiphany

Everything in moderation was key for a happy life. I reigned in my defensive pessimism and did not throw away the still frozen haddock. Instead, I called upon my pragmatic self and returned the fish in question to the freezer for Mike to cook at a later date. 

I found Mike regrouping his virtual warriors. All paused when I entered his “man cave.”

“So do you want sausage or pepperoni on your pizza?” I asked.

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Read more about pessimism.