The Curse of the Uninvited Advisor
“This person can really benefit by my opinion about this. Let me make them aware of it. Really loudly. For 45 minutes.”
Does anyone know what the name of that gene is–the one certain people have–where they feel, not only compelled to give advice to others who aren’t asking for it, but to do it about every subject, every time? I mean, perhaps it’s just me. Perhaps I give off a silent signal to other people that says, “I know nothing about living successfully in this world. Maybe you can fill me in a little?” Sure, I was able to raise myself to a point where I was making a yearly income in the eighties. Okay, yes, I landed an agent. It’s true, I have a book in the Library of Congress. And, I even worked out child support and visitation with a woman without a single person from Family Court knowing anything about it.
I have managed to be a creative person in music and the written word and not miss a single child support payment. I’ve gotten myself to see parts of Europe and Puerto Rico. I may not be Orsen Welles, but I’ve written a few good songs and a few good poems. Once again, might I add, all while paying my bills and feeding myself and others. So, I’m not sure why I have people in my life who think I need their advice. Even some who freely give it about every single damn thing.
The other thing that crinkles my crank about this is that, with all I have accomplished, I have never once thought to myself, “This person can really benefit by my opinion about this. Let me make them aware of it. Really loudly. For 45 minutes.” Maybe I just feel like everyone walks their own path and it’s none of my f*cking business. I think most people go through life like this. Except the people I seem to run into.
Because it’s not just one person. The other day I was driving someone to work. I was driving him to work because he has no car. Nor does he have a driver's license. He lives in an apartment where it’s entirely possible to sit on the toilet and answer the front door–if one had a mind to do so. As far as I have been able to discern, he might’ve had a girlfriend once about ten years ago, and of course, he has no children. And somehow, during the six minute drive, he began to tell me how best to deal with my communication and relationship with my children’s mother. Something, as I have intimated in the past, I have been quite successful at managing for several years without the aid of an attorney, a judge, a mediator or even a psychic.
But some gene in his DNA caused him to feel like he had better let me know exactly how he’d proceed with this relationship. In a hypothetical world where he had a relationship. And children. And a second stream of income. This would be a lot like me sitting in a cockpit next to the pilot of American Airlines and advising him on how best to land the plane. “Not that I’ve ever done this before, but if I did, the first thing I’d do is…”
The only advice I ever ask is specialized advice from people who possess expertise in certain areas. Last night, I asked a person involved in harm reduction social work, how I might begin a career as a harm reduction specialist. Or, at times, I’ll ask a sous chef how best to prepare a certain dish.
But there’s a huge difference between asking how best to prepare chicken piccata and how much money I should keep in my checking account. The main thing being, I asked. This is of crucial importance. I might even be convinced to kindly assist someone with something if I feel like I have valuable insight and–this being the most important part–they ask for it. If not, I have no issue with watching someone make a mistake that I could possibly prevent, because as far as I’m concerned, it is everyone's privilege to make their own mistakes. Especially in this world where most people can not lay claim to be in full possession of almost anything. Their own life and their own decisions are really all they have. It’s free and practical education and not mine to take away from someone.
The mistakes I have made in this life have informed most of my decisions going forward. They have provided me with grist for the mill. Material with which to create art. They have been painful but necessary. In some crazy world where I somehow was able to avoid every distasteful thing that has ever happened to me, because I heeded the wise counsel of some super human entity, I would’ve been dead from boredom already.
Unless, of course, I sat alone in my apartment handing out heaping handfuls of unsolicited advice to anyone who has ever made the mistake to call me just to talk.
YOU know. 3 kinds of people: The "needers," the "helpers," and the "normals." Most of the world fall into the first two categories. Some get help and are "recovering." Many are never aware they need help.
Oh, this is good. I wrote a similar piece several months ago. I had a friend or two who would cut me off mid-sentence to talk continuously about how the feel about the subject without listening to the entire spiel. 90% of the time their response had nothing to do with my point. I do not see those folks anymore, and it was not due to one occurrence, but a host of them. I used to give non-solicited advice to my sister when her children were 2 and 4, only once. She put me in my place, I apologized, her sons went through a ton of troubled times, the oldest got himself on track, long ago moved out and runs a successful business doing home renovations and he is good. The other straighten out but had to move back in with his parents and I fear for the stuff he must listen to from his mom, dad on the other hand would give good advice, if asked. I sent him Stephen Cope's The Greatest Work of your Life- a modern take on the Bhagavad Gita. Okay, unsolicited, but I would recommend this book to anyone. Great essay Billy.