A couple having relationship trouble goes to a therapist. During the session, the therapist asks for examples of everyday friction.
“I’ll give you one,” she said, a bit too eager to indict the defendant. “I ask him to leave the seat down at night—because frankly, I don’t enjoy that kind of surprise.”
“That’s not true!” he objects, appealing to the mercy of the court. “I know it’s important to her, and I make sure to do it. But I never get any credit.”
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you: Why does the wife believe the husband always leaves the seat up, while the husband insists he always puts it down? Let’s examine the crime scene.
The defendant: The husband wakes up groggy, stumbles into the bathroom, and forgets to put the seat down. For him, it’s a non-event—nothing is recorded. But when he does remember, the act registers, paired with the thought, “Aren’t I a good husband?”
Now, the wife: She wakes up in the middle of the night, exhausted from a long day. She goes into the bathroom, and if the seat is down—it’s a non-event, unremarkable, forgotten. But if it’s up, she takes an unexpected dip–a memorable event she won’t soon forget.
Over time, when the wife rewinds her mental footage of late-night bathroom visits, there’s ample incriminating evidence against the inconsiderate #%!$, but scant evidence in favor. But when we play back the husband’s tape, we see a highlight reel of saintly thoughtfulness, and few examples of his sins.
The verdict: both innocent, both guilty. Victims of cognitive bias.
And so it goes with our relationship with life. We tend to not register many moments when nothing goes wrong—those quiet non-events. But negative experiences leave a deeper imprint. When we reflect, there’s a good chance we’re reviewing biased evidence suggesting life was worse than it really was, while much of the good happened with the record button off.
So in the bathroom of life, be aware when the seat is up and recall all the good times when it’s down.