Matt’s first law of programing: you are an idiot.

Not exactly flattering, eh? It certainly doesn’t make the old ego stand at attention, and yet there is a reason it’s the First Law: it is true, and embracing it is the solution to most bugs. The vast majority of problems one encounters are due to mistakes he has made, either from commission or omission. You want certain things to happen, and so you have a certain mindset that they are in fact happening. Obviously, they are not, or you would get the results you seek, and yet it is devilishly difficult at times to see one’s own mistakes because of limited perspective. It is only by embracing the idea that you likely did something wrong that you can alter that skewed perspective and find bugs.

Obvious, isn’t it? But why, then, do we go out of our way to avoid such an obvious approach to problems in other areas of our lives?

I admit to suffering from it, though less so as I grow older and wiser. I try to practice such things in life, but I certainly have my moments of failure. I notice that they go hand in hand with the times I am feeling particularly self-righteous.

One incident stands out in my mind. I was late for work, and in a hurry. I was also driving an expensive sports car, which likely added to my egotistical mood, less in a penis-waving way, and more in a ‘my shit is really fast and slow bitches should get the fuck out” kind of mindset.

There was a large moving van in front of me. I saw that the next lane was open, and that we were in a lane marked by a solid white line. Now, for some strange reason, this did not register in my mind as ‘We are not allowed to change lanes.” It registered as “He is not allowed to change lanes.”

Isn’t that the very essence of arrogance and self absorbed thinking?

Naturally, then, I swerved into the other lane, intending to roar past the truck, when, to my dismay, the truck also changed lanes. I barely avoided a collision, and I was hopping mad.

I pulled alongside the van, cursing the driver and flipping him off. The driver, a young black man, rolled down the window and offered a conciliatory look. “Hey, man,” he said, “Don’t be so angry. Let’s talk about this like reasonable people.”

But I was angry, and self righteous to boot. “You stupid fuck!” I shouted. “You almost killed me! You weren’t supposed to change lanes!”

The man looked at me strangely. “Just listen to me for a minute, man, let me talk to you,” he pleaded. “Yes, I wasn’t supposed to change lanes. But you did it too! I thought you wouldn’t be changing lanes. We both made a mistake.”

Had I been a sensible person at the time, I would have accepted this. It was, after all, nothing but plain truth. We had  both made the same mistake. How could I be angry at him? And yet I was, very much so, enough that his very reasonable and non-hostile attempt to defuse the situation had little effect on my mood.

My answer? I just shouted, “No!” at him, rolled up my window, and sped off. As my anger faded, I kept seeing his face in my mind as I shouted my stupid answer to his sensible words. He was not angry. He looked, if anything, sad, disappointed that his attempt at reason had been rebuffed with stupidity and anger.

I have seen that face in my memory often over the years. There was a lesson, there, one I try to bear in mind as I make my way in life. I am a smart guy, but I have always been a little on the passionate side. I try a little harder these days to actually hear what people are saying before I make a judgment. I don’t always succeed.

But I do my best to never again shout “No!” and run away when someone is trying to reason out a conflict.

I am sorry, Mr. Truck Driver. You were right. I did it too.

You were the better man that day.