Competition Turns Us Into Worse Humans

A few days ago, I was texting with a friend, and I told them how I’d been struggling lately. Mentally. Emotionally. And financially. Naturally, they went:

Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve recently been put in a position where I’m making a lot less money than I used to, so…

The whole thing reminds me of this scene from the final episode of Aziz Ansari’s Master of None. Dev and Rachel attend a wedding and meet the father of the groom. The man walks up to them and says:

“I love seeing ethnically-mixed couples. You two are beautiful together. Have you ever dated an ethnic man before this, Rachel?”

And after he walks away, Dev says:

“His heart is in the right place, but he really shouldn’t be saying ‘ethnic’ that much.”

What I’m saying is, my friend really shouldn’t be saying “ethnic” that much.

Why would anyone’s misfortune make me feel better?

The answer, I believe, lies in how our society operates; in how a lot of us have been raised.

We’ve been raised to see life as some sort of competition. From school, to work, to our romantic relationships — everything is a game. Everything is a competition with another person/persons. And when we beat them, it’s a sign that we’re better. So we feel better.

This whole “if it makes you feel better” business came from the same school of thought. The idea is if something happened to someone, and it’s worse than what’s happened to you, then by comparison, you come out on top. You’re the winner. And that should, at least in theory, make you feel better because… you’re better?

Good things have come out of competitions, I’ll admit. The free market, for one, cannot exist in a non-competitive world. Also, a lot of the technology we use today wouldn’t exist without the epic dick-measuring competition that is the cold war. And of course sporting events have pushed the limits of the human body far beyond what we thought of previously.

See: Roger Bannister.

Without a doubt, when we push to get better at competing, we get better at making/doing things. But when we become better competitors, we dramatically increase our risk of turning into worse humans.

Sometime ago at work, I volunteered for a task, and when another person expressed interest in the same task, a few people from the team went — oh competition! And when I said, “No, there isn’t going to be any competition here,” they automatically assumed that was a challenge.

Someone literally said — “Whoa, so bitchy!”

Recently, my friend Nadia wrote in her e-mail newsletter about a film she’s recently watched. And somewhere in the e-mail was a throwaway line about her having a crush on Zoe Kazan. Immediately after reading that, I texted her asking if she’s seen Exploding Girl. Or Some Girl(s).

“Have you seen August?”

All films with Zoe Kazan in them. All films that I assume the casual Zoe Kazan fan wouldn’t have seen.

She replied saying she hadn’t, and naturally I felt better. Because I’d beaten her at this Zoe Kazan fan competition thing.

The reason I view everything as a challenge — the reason most of us view anything as a challenge — is, of course, low self esteem. It took me a really long time to admit that to myself.

When you don’t have enough self worth in the inside, you look for it on the outside. You look for “objective” yardsticks to tell you what your worth is. It might be a degree from a certain university. A job title. How much money you have in the bank. Facebook likes. Or even winning a Zoe Kazan fan competition that only exists in your head.

This whole competition business — I’m still figuring it out. This post is as much for myself as it is for anyone. I’ll say this though — if you want to make someone feel better, please don’t try to one-up their misfortune.

Instead, validate their feelings.

The thing about feelings is that they’re undeniable. If someone tells you they feel a certain way — they feel it. Whether or not those feelings are rational is irrelevant. The best course of action is to validate. Even if you intend to offer a different perspective. Especially if you intend to offer a different perspective. The best course of action is to always start on the same page, and that starts with you acknowledging what page that is.

I was at a wedding from a few weeks ago. I was there with a friend and there were more people than I was comfortable with being around. With every passing minute, my anxiety got higher. And at some point, I turned to my friend and said something akin to,

“You know, they make drugs for this exact situation, and I really wish I had some right about now.”

“I could use some as well,” my friend replied.

And just like that, I felt less like a freak. I felt less crazy. Less alone.

It’s irresponsible to ask someone going through a difficult time to think of another person somewhere else fighting a more difficult fight regardless of how you define “difficult”. It’s certainly not okay to ask them to compare themselves to a bunch of starving kids in who-gives-a-fuck. Even worse, please don’t ask them to compare their shit with your own shit.

Because it’s not a competition. And even if it was, is beating starving kids in who-gives-a-fuck a title you’d want to be carrying around?

The next time your friend tells you about a difficult situation they’re going through, try not to make a competition out of it. Because the key to making someone feel better is, ironically, not to show they have it better in comparison to yourself or someone else.

And if, when you’re going through some of your own shit, the misfortune of a friend makes you feel better, I urge you to be suspect of that relationship. Because chances are, you’re not really their friend.

“Friendship improves happiness and abates misery by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief.” — Cicero.

So if you want to make someone feel better, the first thing you should do is be their friend.