Now, the thing I have been doing wrong is using a fork to split the muffin. Apparently, the smart way, the right way to open or split an English muffin is to roll it in your hand while gently pressing on the sides, and the thing just opens. Just like that. And the article had a link to a TikTok user showing this rolling method. At the end of the article, there was a link to another article titled: 28 Everyday things You’re probably doing wrong.
I have dyslexia. Words shift and reverse on the page, and before I knew what was going on, I was scared, and I tried to hide it. Reading in front of the class was a nightmare. The bottom line is, people thought I was stupid or “special,” and that killed me. I was saved by a kind, young teacher right out of college who understood what was happening with me and changed my life. I became a voracious reader, slow, but still voracious.
Now I have a handle on most of it; however, I am still nervous about being stupid, people seeing my disability and thinking I am dim. I have carried that since childhood, and I still find myself fighting those feelings to this day. I learned that when casting directors asked me to cold-read something, I should ask for a moment and tell them about my dyslexia. It’s fine; no one has made an issue of it, but me. I still fear being seen as stupid.
Now here’s the kicker: I fear being seen as stupid; however, if you’ve read any of my blogs, you’ll see right away that I am not really the brightest bulb in the toolshed. So, I don’t want to be seen as stupid, but the facts kind of point to the fact that I am stupid, so what’s a boy to do? I keep going, keep doing my level best and try to deal with my fears, but I will admit, I am pretty sensitive about it. I still get itchy when I find things that highlight my stupidity. And that happened recently when I read an article titled “You’re opening your English muffins wrong.” I read that title, and I flipped out. Oh dear God, one more thing the universe is showing me that proves I’m stupid. And it has sent me on a bit of a spiral, as you shall see.
I mean, sweet Baby Jesus tap dancin’ in Tulsa, what is going on? When does it all stop? When does life just say, good that’s good, you’re doing fine, just keep going, do what you’re doing, and everything will be just fine? When does that happen? Because, as far as I know, nothing is right, and I am doing every single thing I’ve ever done wrong.
This morning, while in the midst of my morning constitutional, I was reading the news, and there was an article that said: You’ve been opening your English Muffin wrong your entire life.” This shocked me, and it also sped up my constitutional considerably, if you catch my meaning. So, there I am, still a bit groggy, when I learn that a morning staple, the humble English Muffin, that I sometimes top with an egg, cheese, and a breakfast meat, the small, round, breadlike breakfast buddy that I have been splitting with a fork since I opened my first bag of Thomas’s, is the victim of abuse. That poor, poor breakfast yummy has been abused at my hands for decades. Or so this article says.
Shocked I was when I learned of my faux pas, my blunder, my breakfast bogey for all my golf fans. Let me hear my golf fans (small polite clap). But seriously, after a lifetime of carefully inserting a fork into the perforated edges of an English muffin only to discover I had been doing it wrong for all my life, that’s shocking. And it has given rise to my feelings of stupidity.
Now, the thing I have been doing wrong is using a fork to split the muffin. Apparently, the smart way, the right way to open or split an English muffin is to roll it in your hand while gently pressing on the sides, and the thing just opens. Just like that. And the article had a link to a TikTok user showing this rolling method. At the end of the article, there was a link to another article titled: 28 Everyday things You’re probably doing wrong. Now, my better angels were shouting in my head, don’t read that, you don’t need to see that. But that dark voice was saying, “Read it; find out how stupid you really are … go ahead.”
I Read the Article
Look, I know the game, I’m in the game, and I get that a good title becomes clickbait; still, I took it hook, line, and sinker. I took the bait, swallowed it, and went on a deep dive, looking at article after article about things I have been doing wrong all my life. I was amazed. I opened the article, and the first thing I discovered I was doing wrong? Breathing. Yup, breathing. A completely involuntary act, and I was doing it wrong. How is that possible? The medulla and the pons run the whole breathing thing in the body; there’s no thought to it, it just happens, and yet, I was doing it wrong.
Please note, as I grow more and more unhinged here, that when I read the title of an article like this, and it says “… you’re probably doing it wrong.” I assume they mean me, just me, not everyone else, just me. So, here I am, already reeling from the fact that I can’t figure out an English muffin, and now I’m realizing I don’t know how to breathe. But it gets worse; there is a litany of things that I have been doing wrong all my life.
Apart from basically killing an English muffin and having no idea how to breathe, I have also been doing the following wrong:
Peeling a banana. Apparently, not by grabbing the banana by the top, nature’s handle, and pulling the sides down; I’m supposed to open it from the bottom. Because that’s cleaner and easier. They say monkeys know this, but I don’t. Funny, because the thing is, reality shows that monkeys, in the wild, don’t come across bananas very much; still, they know more than I do. Great.
Cracking an egg. So, I like eggs and have scrambled eggs for breakfast, sometimes twice a week. I take the egg, crack it on the edge of the bowl, pull it open, and dump the inner goo into the bowl, right? WRONG! Don’t crack the egg on the side of the bowl, idiot; use a flat surface, like your cutting board. Who knew? NOT ME!!!
Drying my hands. Yes, you read that right; I dry my hands wrong. Usually, when my hands are wet from a kitchen task, I grab a few paper towels and dry my hands. WRONG, PAUL, so very wrong. See, what you want to do is shake your hands twelve times, yes, exactly twelve times, then grab your paper towel and fold it lengthwise and then dry your hands.
Using a dustpan. Ok, now this one was actually a revelation; still, I put it here. Instead of trying to sweep up all the hard-to-gather bits, the tiny things, put down a wet paper towel, sweep the bits onto that, and then throw it away. That’s a good one. Still, it’s shocking to discover that I don’t know how to use a dustpan.
There were more, more simple, everyday things I am doing wrong. I’m at the point now where I feel like I need an instruction manual to buy groceries. I am living my entire life wrong, so it seems.
Who’s Idea Was This
Seriously, who decides on what I’m doing right or wrong? Is there a panel, like the “they,” of you know what they say, fame? Is there a group of people who look at our daily lives, see that things are going along okay, people have a handle on things, and decide, nope, that’s not gonna do, and then make rules about how we do things wrong? I’m asking because I’m freaking out and I need somewhere to place my freakout, and “they” seem to have enough on their plate right now.
But honestly, there is a difference between giving good, helpful advice, actually solving a problem, like the paper towel thing, and creating anxiety simply so that you can solve it. I mean, seriously, breathing??? You know, I think if you’re breathing wrong, you’d know, or certainly your mortician will.
There is a method to this madness, and that’s the need for marketers to keep us feeling stupid. If we feel stupid, and if you need help feeling this way, drop me a line; I am professionally stupid. But if we remain feeling like we’re stupid, then “You’re doing it wrong” is an incredibly powerful hook. Suddenly the reader sees that headline and wonders: “I am?” and “Hold everything, if I’m doing this wrong, what should I be doing?” and that, my friends, is how they get you to click the article and from there, the sky’s the limit. Now you’re available to be sold nasal clips and humidifiers to help you “breathe correctly.”
“You’re doing it wrong” creates a lovely information gap, and smart marketers have set up houses, daycare centers, and social halls in that gap. You wander in with a click, and lord knows how long you’ll live there or what you’ll be sold before you can get out. If you get out. If you’re like me, and you’re always worried about your lack of information, you could get stuck in that gap for a long time.
The Clingy Fear
As a marketer, the ” you’re doing it wrong” idea is gold. Create the problem, then solve it, genius. What could be better than creating a ton of anxiety over simple things and then keeping your clients wrapped as you solve their problems as well. See, what you’re creating here is trust, oh so much trust. Potential buyers will see you as their savior and the trust between them and your brand will be an unbreakable bond. Right?
Actually, wrong. If you keep playing that scene, you’re doing it wrong. Don’t worry, we’ll save you with the idea that you’re building trust and loyalty; well, here’s some irony for you: you’re actually doing it wrong.
What you’re creating is not loyalty and trust; you’re creating anxiety and building a very strong wall of insecurity. So, what, you say, they’re insecure, and we’ll sell them some security. But that becomes a whole different beast. Now you’re dealing with clingy, insecure clients. It’s like having a client list filled with Hungarian Vizslas, the world’s most clingy dog breed, so clingy, in fact, that breeders say this dog abhors personal space. Imagine that?
An insecure client is difficult because their fear and lack of trust lead to micromanagement, endless second-guessing, and constant scope creep. This behavior wastes valuable time, drains creative energy, and often stalls project momentum. Whereas a normal client checks in, sees what’s new, and moves along, a clingy, insecure client will pester and double-check, question your every move, and be that jittery, unreliable person on social media who can’t stop posting complaints that are driven by their fear and mistrust. You reap what you sew. Sew vast fields of insecurity and fear, you will reap baskets of the stuff, and good luck dealing with that.
If you tell possible clients they’re deficient, they will eventually believe you and start acting that way. Now, you have zombie followers, and any change, any idea, any movement in the market you’re planning will drive them insane, and they’ll be at your door like a crazy ex, wondering why you’re eating at Taco Bell, and they know this because they go through your trash to make sure you’re eating healthy.
The Takeaway
There’s nothing wrong with showing people a better way to do something. Hell, I’m going to use that wet paper towel trick with my dustpan, and I might even give the English muffin rolling thing a shot. If something genuinely makes life easier, solves a problem, or gives someone something useful they didn’t have before, tell them. That’s good information, and it can also be good marketing. But there’s a considerable difference between helping someone solve a problem and convincing them they have a problem simply because you happen to have something to sell them.
Fear works. Insecurity works. “You’re doing it wrong” obviously works because I’m living proof. Tell me I’ve been breathing incorrectly for sixty years, and apparently I’ll click on your damn article. But getting the click isn’t the same thing as earning trust, and making someone question themselves isn’t the same thing as making them believe in you. Eventually, if your brand constantly reminds people they’re inadequate without you, they may start to believe it. And then you’ve built your relationship on the very thing you’ll spend the rest of your time trying to manage: their insecurity.
At ThoughtLab, we’d rather start somewhere else. Instead of asking how we can make people afraid enough to need a brand, we think the better question is how a brand can be useful enough, interesting enough, honest enough, or valuable enough that people actually want it in their lives. Solve something real. Make something better. Give people a reason to trust you that doesn’t require first convincing them they’re idiots.
As for me, tomorrow morning I’m going to make myself an English muffin. Maybe I’ll roll it around in my hands and gently squeeze it until it magically opens. Maybe I’ll stick a fork in the side the way I’ve been doing for decades. Either way, I’m going to put an egg on it, eat the damn thing, and remind myself that sometimes there’s more than one perfectly good way to do something.
And if I’m doing that wrong too, please, for the love of God, don’t tell me.
