Andy Young: Snap judgments: make ‘em, but don’t act on ‘em

By Andy Young

Most rational people think it’s wrong to judge others and believe it’s particularly egregious to do so upon meeting someone for the first time.

I disagree.

I frequently assess people spontaneously. I don’t feel bad about it either, since I strongly suspect that as I’m doing it, the vast majority of those people are sizing me up and immediately drawing their own conclusions, most of which are probably accurate.

About 90 percent of my initial perceptions of people I encounter for the first time are correct. But that’s a nice way of saying I’m mistaken the other 10 percent of the time. I still maintain there’s nothing wrong with forming quick opinions of new acquaintances. However, it’s vital to never act on those appraisals.

Why not? Exhibit A concerns a fellow I’ll refer to here as Jeff (because that’s his actual name). He and I shared a three-bedroom apartment one winter with two other guys, Duane and Tim. (Those aren’t their real names, but they know who they are.)

The four of us were spending a winter working for a minor league hockey team as, in no particular order, ticket manager, athletic trainer, radio announcer, and concessions manager. None of us was getting paid much; it’s not a coincidence that no billionaire ever got his start selling tickets to East Coast Hockey League games. But given the services we were providing, our pay rate was probably fair. After all, it wasn’t like we were working on a cure for cancer.

Jeff took charge of getting our shared bills paid. He volunteered for the job shortly after we moved into the apartment, and the rest of us eagerly and unanimously approved him before he could change his mind.

My initial judgement of Jeff came on the evening the first phone bill arrived. The four of us were bonding in front of our favorite TV show. Jeff, being a good roommate, waited until Beavis and Butt-head was over before getting down to business.

Phone bills were different back then. There was a basic monthly service fee, plus a separate charge for each long-distance phone call made during the billing period. That amount varied based on the call’s length and the time of day at which it had been made. Jeff passed the bill around, asking each of us to initial each long-distance call we’d made. After that was done, he added in 25 percent of the service charge, punched a few buttons on his calculator, and determined what each of us owed.

When Jeff told me my total came to $25.05, I opened my wallet, extracted a $20 bill and a $5 bill, and handed them over.

Jeff took the money.

An awkward silence followed.

A very loooooong awkward silence.

Finally, Jeff stuck out his hand, palm up, and repeated, calmly but firmly, “I said you owe $25.05.”

That’s when I instantly concluded that Jeff was the cheapest person on the planet.

But I quickly realized I was mistaken. After pocketing my nickel, Jeff told Duane he owed $39.97. Having just witnessed the previous scene, Duane quickly produced two $20 bills. Taking them, Jeff got up and marched wordlessly into his bedroom. When he returned moments later, he was holding three cents change.

My initial judgment of Jeff had been dead wrong. Thank goodness I didn’t act on it, because the moment that he gave Duane those three pennies I realized Jeff was, in reality, the most scrupulously honest person on the planet.

This story ends happily.

My second evaluation of Jeff was, it turned out, 100 percent correct. <