Why do I lie to people who I pay to do stuff for me and to me? People who need to know the facts in order to do their jobs? Because I can’t be arsed with the telling off, that’s why. So when the hygienist asks the how-often-do-you-floss question. I could be honest. But do I really want to listen to the spiel? I may be lackadaisical about flossing but I know why it’s important and yes I do have nightly visions of my enamels crumbling. But that’s my bag, my loss, my problem and I don’t want the lecture or – God forbid – the demo.
My accountant knows in his heart of hearts that my tax stuff won’t really be in the post today. We both know it. So why am I compelled to send him an email promising that it is already en route? To get him off my back. Speaking of which, the osteopath. Yes I have found the exercises useful, the daily stretches, which I have been doing. So it’s HIS fault I’m not better. Not mine. I’m the one paying after all. Doesn’t that make me the ‘customer’ and hence ‘always right’?
Don’t get me started on my GP. Do you smoke? Never. I did try the honesty thing once and admitted to having about one fag a month. I was stressed. I may have been pregnant but let’s not dwell on that. I explained my mother was dying. It was a one-off. Obviously I knew it wasn’t ideal scenario numero uno. But they were still bringing it up months later. I should have looked shocked and affronted at the question and lied.
Ditto the AA man (of course I check my tyre air pressure monthly). Hairdresser (had it cut 6 weeks ago). Cleaner (changed the towels last week while you were away).
Because lying is so much easier than being told off. Easier for everyone than screaming, “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?” Just because I’m not doing stuff it doesn’t mean I don’t understand why I’m supposed to. That’s the thing about being an adult. Call me childish but treat me like a child and I’ll lie. Just to swerve the droning.