Last week, one of my childhood friends posted a conversation to her Facebook status that went something like this:
Cashier: Oooh, are you making sconces? I made some lemon sconces last week and they were delicious!
Friend: Yes, and I find the flavor of the lighting fixture to be delightful, but the texture tends to be challenging.
Two weeks ago, another friend told me that a fellow PhD student (who has not yet taken his doctoral exams and is, therefore, not even ABD - all but dissertation - much less having written said dissertation), landed a coveted POST-DOCTORAL fellowship with the Kinsey Institute simply because he "discovered" a gene that he theorizes makes women slutty and then went on the Today Show and other stellar barometers of an individual's worth and made people go "oooh" and "aaahh" over his evident brilliance (despite the fact that the science is, in fact, deeply flawed and inconsistent with reality).
This past weekend, my boyfriend drove his boat across Delaware Bay despite the fact that the deck was unattached - it was in and flat, but not screwed in yet because we still have some work to do.
In all of these situations, the people in question were "close enough." Now I warrant that driving a boat with an unattached deck is infinitely less problematic than an individual who doesn't know the difference between a lighting fixture and a delicious pastry OR someone who, in a recession, can land a job for which he is distinctly UN-qualified simply because he's proven to be a media whore, but the problem is the same: "Close Enough" syndrome. And it is running rampant in 21st century America. We've all done it. We're all prone to its siren song of convenience.
"Close enough" is a familiar concept and has been with us for awhile, but usually in reference to very broad situations or as a joke: "That's close enough for government work" or "close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades." But when exactly did we lose our impulse, desire, and expectation for precision? My friend surely did not alert the cashier of her ignorance and correct her; my other friend and his adviser have not made a media stink over this PhD student's lack of qualifications for the job; my boyfriend's boat suffered no ill effects from being driven 12 nautical miles on water with an unsecured deck. Have we lost our motivation for precision because it just doesn't matter?
Let's apply this syndrome to teachers and see what happens with Johnny's final grade (pay attention students, these conversations really do occur!):
Prof Smith: I don't know what to do about Johnny's final grade. He completed all the work, but only earned Cs and Ds, and he rarely came to class. When he WAS there, he was either sleeping or not paying attention. So his participation grade is a zero. That drags his overall grade into the D zone.
Prof Jones: And the problem is...??
Prof Smith: Well, he did an unbelievable job on the final project and presentation. Earned an A. I wish he would have applied that level of attention and concentration to the rest of the semester's work! The problem is this A still leaves him with a 69 overall. I'm debating whether to bump him up to a C even though that wouldn't be fair to the other students who consistently earned a C all semester.
Prof Jones: A 69? A 69 is a D, my friend. If it was a 69.8, I might agree with you that a bump makes sense, but if the final calculation is a 69, then that's a D.
If Prof Smith suffers from "Close Enough" syndrome because of a desire to be liked better by students, or out of fear of a negative student evaluation or a libelous RateMyProfessors comment, he will GIVE Johnny a grade that the student did not earn simply because it is easier and more convenient than potentially fighting and arguing his reasoning if he gives Johnny the earned D.
Let's consider another situation: the DMV. This past weekend, my boyfriend and I were standing in line at a New Jersey DMV office to get his renewed boat registration and next to us in a different line was a man trying to pay for his car registration. The conversation went something like this:
Clerk: That'll be $27.46.
Man (Looking down dolefully at his wallet): Oh wow. $27? Really? I only have $20.
Clerk (steady gaze and tone): You can use your debit card or a credit card.
Man: I don't have those. (Looking at her now as though he expects $20 to be close enough for his $27.46 registration fee)
Clerk: I can hold this for you if you want to run to your bank.
Man: Oh, um, I don't...well...
You get the point. This gentleman suffers from "Close Enough" syndrome, thinking that $20 cash would be close enough to cover a more expensive registration fee, thus indicating his general lack of preparedness and reliance on the ignorance or kindness of others to accommodate his foolishness.
When you visit the islands, a street fair, or country where merchants expect you to haggle, that's different because then haggling and being "close enough" becomes part of a valued cultural dance. However, here in America, our retail stores post sales and print coupons which means "close enough" doesn't cut it. If bras are on sale two for $30 and you walk in with $25, guess what?! You aren't walking out with the bras unless you steal them.
But with language, job qualifications, boat safety, final grade calculation, and registration payments (among other things), many of us expect that being "close enough" will suffice. Is this a new malady that is getting worse in the 21st century, or am I imagining a romantic, nostalgic past where people knew proper terms and grades were earned and nobody expected to walk into any store or office and pay less than the value for an item unless it was on sale?
Does "Close Enough" syndrome reflect our general growing apathy for anything that requires precision? Or is the idea of precision a romantic notion that never really existed?
1 comment:
Amen!! Preach it, sister! I so agree...
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