Altogether, the word comes to mean an act or habit of describing or regarding something as worthless.
Besides being an archaic joke, floccinaucinihilipilification is almost a cultural taboo. We do everything we can to avoid thinking of ourselves as unimpressive, and instead work hard to maintain our own healthy self-view. We might concede when a challenge arises, lest failure threaten the good view of ourselves that we hold.
One reason we aspire toward positive self-regard is that we think it’s the best way to stay motivated. My research team surveyed more than four hundred people from all around the United States and found that over 95 percent of respondents think that people with positive views of themselves accomplish more than people with negative views of themselves. And this translates into the types of feedback that we seek. We think employers should offer more praise than criticism, to encourage better performance. And friends should give their approval rather than a critical analysis when trying to motivate us. Parents think teachers should give positive feedback to children rather than negative feedback, to foster development.
But science says otherwise. When our efforts do not warrant positive feedback, much like my lackluster percussive performances as of late, receiving it can backfire. Roy Baumeister, a psychologist at Florida State University, analyzed the results of more than two hundred studies of several thousand individuals and found that feedback, performance reviews, and praise designed to increase self-esteem don’t work to help people better meet their goals. For example, positive regard for oneself does not improve the quality of job performance. Fostering high self-esteem in children does not improve grades in school. People with high self-esteem are no more likely to become leaders. They are not better liked. They act just as aggressively and no more generously than others, despite the fact that those with higher self-esteem think they’re more popular and socially skilled.
Baumeister himself was surprised by the results. He was actually quoted as saying that his findings were the biggest disappointment of his career. The fact that positive feedback and favorable self-views didn’t lead people to achieve more seemed to undermine our most basic belief about who accomplishes the most in life, and how we should motivate ourselves to do more.
So what if we don’t find our inspiration by exclusively receiving positive feedback that makes us feel good? Where do we find it? Part of it comes from reading others right, even when what they have to tell us might not be all that positive. Sure, encouragement feels good. Praise can put a smile on our faces. But compliments do not always inspire us. Sometimes we’re called to action by knowing where we’ve come up short. Charity fundraisers know this, and in at least one instance have partnered with academic researchers to show how highlighting missteps can motivate better than showcasing successes. The South Korean office of Compassion International partnered with social psychologist Ayelet Fishbach to raise funds for a new campaign benefiting AIDS orphans in Africa. The team solicited regular donors, giving feedback about current progress. Some regular donors received positive feedback as part of the solicitation. They read that the campaign had already received 50 percent of the funds they needed to meet the $10,000 goal. Others received the same information but in the form of negative feedback, indicating that the organization was shy of its goal by 50 percent. What motivated additional financial support among these people? The negative feedback. Knowing that the organization they were committed to was falling short inspired eight times as many people to make a donation. As this campaign demonstrated, sometimes we need to see what’s really in front of us, even if that means getting floccinaucinihilipilificated every once in a while.
Learning to Read the Room
Reading others’ emotional expressions for what they really are—even if that’s negative—rather than what we want them to be can be the difference between landing the deal and losing it. Who gets the promotion and who stays in the cube. Who feels satisfied with what they’re doing and who doesn’t. In all fields of employment, and across the life span, people who read others’ emotions better experience happier and more productive lives. Children as young as seven years of age who read others the best, even when what they see might not be a sign of encouragement, are also the ones who achieve the highest academic performance. Managers who can read emotions create psychologically healthier environments, and this practice shifts the way employees engage with customers, thereby boosting monthly sales figures. Doctors who can gauge the emotional state of their patients are less likely to get sued in medical malpractice cases. In one study, the business students in Singapore with better abilities to read emotions created more value for both themselves and the students playing the role of the buyer in a deal. Reading others right can be satisfying and lucrative, but it’s not necessarily easy. And that’s where we begin the next story.
One spring night I snagged a plus-one to the New York Academy of Art’s Tribeca Ball. It’s an annual charity event in a space where artists occupy one hundred or so studio stalls. For this one evening, they push aside their printing presses and saws. They turn down the kiln’s scorching temperature and dry their brushes, though paint spattered on the floor just a few days before still teases the fancy stiletto heels of the party guests. Every available flat surface is covered in art you can admire, buy, eat, and kick if you aren’t looking carefully.
I was the guest that night of a friend of the event’s organizer, a guy who had Andy Warhol white-blond hair and was now busy circulating with his guests. I wandered into the basement, caught up in a stream of human movement that pulled me down a flight of stairs. Pin lights illuminated the buried recesses of the subterranean space, every inch of which was painted white. I caught the eye of another solo drifter as I passed him. I smiled, assuming—I’m not sure why—that we were both a little lost in this surreal scene.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Dennis. I’m sorry, but can I help you get that?” I was hoping he wasn’t offering to pick spinach out of my teeth from the spanakopita I had snatched off the hors d’oeuvres tray on the way down. My anxiety bubbled up to the surface.
But before I could respond out loud, he reached behind my shoulder and brought back a lime. On the next beat, he had a deck of cards in his hands and the citrus had vanished.
“I’m a magician,” he explained, though that was evident.
I came to learn that Dennis Kyriakos was working that night. He had been invited to dazzle guests with his tricks and illusions as he meandered through the galleries. An eight of spades I had written my name on and stuffed back into the deck appeared folded up and tucked inside his wallet a few minutes later, though his hands never left my sight, or so I thought. I opened my hand and watched as he placed one red ball on my palm before I clenched my fist tight. When I opened it later, there were two squishy crimson things, despite my never having felt anything change inside. I was hooked, and any semblance of high-society decorum I had been trying to cultivate earlier on had dissolved.