Pondering On My Own IQ On The Potty

Summary

The author reflects on their personal struggle with self-perception of intelligence in the context of the Dunning-Kruger effect, questioning their own abilities and societal roles based on feedback from others.

Abstract

The article delves into the author's introspection triggered by learning about the Dunning-Kruger effect, a cognitive bias where individuals with low ability overestimate their competence and those with high ability underestimate it. The author ponders whether they are perceived as unintelligent or brilliant, recounting instances where they have been treated as lacking in intelligence, despite their self-perception as capable. This internal conflict has led to a crisis of confidence, affecting the author's domestic life and career prospects. The author's wife criticizes their domestic abilities, leading to a loss of motivation and self-doubt. Ultimately, the author becomes apathetic towards societal standards of intelligence, questioning the validity of the Dunning-Kruger effect and the capabilities of its researchers, and resigns to a state of inaction and disinterest in both personal improvement and the achievements of others.

Opinions

The author feels misunderstood, being perceived as less intelligent than they believe themselves to be.
There is a belief that constant criticism can lead to a withdrawal from activities and a loss of self-efficacy.
The author expresses skepticism about the Dunning-Kruger effect and whether its proponents are truly qualified to assess cognitive biases.
The author has a cynical view of societal standards, noting that those who appear unintelligent can rise to high positions while potentially brilliant individuals may be relegated to menial jobs.
A sense of resignation is conveyed, as the author chooses to disengage from the debate on intelligence and focuses instead on personal reflection in isolation.
The author questions their own intelligence, oscillating between feeling incompetent and considering the possibility of being more astute than they give themselves credit for.

What I do with far too much time on my hands.

I have just been studying something called the Dunning-Kruger effect. This is a psychological condition in which people of low ability have a tendency to overestimate themselves, and people of high ability have an equal tendency to underestimate themselves.

What this means In layman’s terms, is basically that there are people who are as thick as pig poo, but think they are the new Albert Einstein, and those who really are the next Einstein, who think they are as thick as pig poo.

And as I was reading about the condition, I was thinking to myself, oh yes I’ve met quite a few of those types of people, on both sides. And I inevitably wondered, into which camp do I fall? And the thought occurred to me that I can be a bit of both at times. This led me to become really quite confused, not so much about who I am, but as to what I am.

Many has been the time I have been called, and treated like, I am as thick as two short planks. Now this has been something which has rankled me quite a lot since I had an entirely different view. I had a contrary self-perception if you will. On the other hand, seldom, no make that never, has anybody told me that I am a genius whose time will come in the not-too-distant future.

Now as you can imagine, this has had quite a devastating effect on my career prospects and on my actual life performance. It has even deeply affected me at home. My wife has constantly told me I am useless at just about every domestic chore I can think of. Indeed, she has even started to criticize my basic ability to clean myself let alone a sink full of dirty dishes.

For the first time, since I was a toddler, I am having to re-do basic toilet training. I am a long long way from being incontinent, but I’m half expecting a potty to be introduced to the en-suite bathroom any time this month.

It has got so, so bad that I have now stopped doing anything at all really. My confidence to clean even a coffee-stained teaspoon has gone. At least that is my excuse for not bothering to give it a wash.

Of course, my wife now constantly complains so much that I do nothing around the house, I always leave it to her. If I am constantly told I am crap at something, do not be too surprised if I stop doing it. And if I am told I am crap at everything, then I will end up not doing anything at all.

I am now trying to figure out if that makes me too thick to save myself from my own stupidity, or smarter than your average bear, boo boo.

And then I got to wondering about Cunning and Druger, or whatever their names are, and I found myself wondering. What if they actually both belong to the former group of dullards who think they are the bee’s knees? I mean how can we trust the ones who are doing the testing? How can we know if they have or haven’t rigged the tests in their own favor? And I came to the conclusion that it’s got bugger all to do with me and went back to blissfully doing Jack sh@t on the sofa.

I am long well past caring what others think about how intelligent or stupid I am. And quite frankly I couldn’t give a tinkers cuss about how stupid or not anybody else is. In fact, I have become quite apathetic about everybody and everything.

Having seen the dregs of what passes for intelligence rise to the top of society, no names no pack drill, and budding Einsteins packing cardboard boxes on a factory floor, I have lost all hope not just for myself, but for all of humanity.

Personally, I have concluded that I am not quite so stupid nor shameless enough to delude myself that I can effectively run a country the size of a continent and be a leader of the free world. Nor am I smart enough to operate the cardboard box crusher at the local widget and grommet factory.

So I shall just occupy myself with some basic potty training, whereupon I can, in my own sweet way, simply squat down on the little blue, plastic molded potty and indulge in some intellectual gymnastics, pondering on the it-ness of life, sucking my thumb and happily mumbling to myself “ga ga, ga, ga, goo.”