It’s terribly stressful to pretend you know what you’re
doing all the time. Not only does it tax a person’s acting skills, which may
not be all that great to begin with, but it leaves us without any opportunity
to stop, look around, and take a few moments to try and understand the mess we’ve
just gotten ourselves into. People who want to look like they know what they’re
doing don’t dare slow down, because they’re already supposed to have figured it
all out and should be charging ahead getting things done. So you barrel on,
panicked because you can’t admit to anyone that you don’t have the slightest
idea what’s happening.
It’s infinitely easier, I’ve found, to be able to admit to
being completely clueless on occasion. Most people will respond at least
reasonably well to comments like “I’m embarrassingly lost. Can you please tell
me how to get to [insert name of wherever it is here]?” or “This exploded and I
don’t know what happened. Please fix it.” I’ve never asked them, but I believe
that most people are kind in these circumstances because they hope that someone
else will be if they ever need to admit cluelessness.
Doing so can make you feel more than a little vulnerable –
high school flashbacks, I think – and there are times it can be downright
scary. But it can also be such a relief to stop, give someone else the steering
wheel for just a few moments, and figure out how to get back to that patch of
road you know so much better than you do this one.
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