Decaf Espressos with Milk-Pictures

Sigmas, psychopaths, and leading without ruling (#ThreeThoughtThursday)

#1
I am not a psychopath

With a quick glance, you might have interpreted the headline as “Decaf Espressos with Milk: Pictures” or “Decaf Espressos with Milk (Pictures).” But I actually intended it as “milk-pictures.”

I refuse to use the term “latte.” Thus, when I draw in the flat foam on the top, I am not doing “latte art”—I am making “milk-pictures.”

That’s right—milk-pictures. I want it to be a hyphenated compound noun. Or maybe even just straight-up milkpictures. Like baseball was once base ball, and then it became base-ball, and now it is baseball.

(Note: every day cannot be occupied with politics and doom. We have to lighten up every once in a while, so we’re gonna talk about coffee.)

We got our espresso machine for Christmas. Ostensibly, it was a gift from Santa to my wife. But as it turns out, I am having just as much fun with it. Maybe more.

It’s not just any old machine. When I started researching, I just figured I would get one for maybe $199.00. One of the first ones I saw was actually on sale for $99.00, and I figured I was going to get off cheap. (Sorry, I mean Santa was going to get off cheap.)

Then I kept researching…and researching…and I ended up going down the espresso-machine rabbit hole for hours. Eventually, I realized that this was not something to cheap out on. Yes, we would be okay with a cheaper machine, but if we want to do the really fun stuff, we needed a nicer one.

So that’s what I did, in spite of the extra cost. We got one that is supposedly the next-best thing to commercial grade. And we are very happy with it.

I never liked coffee. Over the years, my wife kept trying to get me to like it by giving me sips of hers…

In the early days, hers was flavored coffee with cream and sugar.
Yuck.

Then she stopped drinking the flavored kind, but kept the cream and sugar.
Still not a fan.

Over a few years, she kept reducing her sugar until it was gone. Just coffee and cream.
Still nope.

THEN we went to an Ethiopian restaurant and did the coffee ceremony. The coffee was black and bitter and nasty and I LOVED IT.

I have been drinking black coffee ever since.

It has to be decaf, though. If I drink caffeine, I will run circles on the ceiling.
If I drink caffeine, I can catch the Road Runner.

I know some of you don’t think that coffee without caffeine is even real. Not sure what to tell you. Meep meep.

So I drink black decaf. Like a psychopath, apparently.
(Don’t worry—I feel way too much guilt, remorse, and sympathy to be a psychopath.)

But now we have this machine that lets you texture milk properly, like a professional. And I am having a blast trying to make milk-pictures. It takes some practice, but I am starting to get it…

I would say this is my best attempt so far:

Here’s one from this morning:

My wife likes hers extra foamy, and beyond a certain point of foaminess, the pictures are tougher to make. But still doable…

It’s a work in progress, which is part of the fun.

But now, if I want extra opportunities to play around with milkpictures, I have to make mine with milk too. And y’know what? The properly textured stuff is so good that even I like it.

So now we know that I’m not a psychopath.

#2
I am not a ruler

I have an observation to make about human nature. I have been collecting informal ‘data’ on this for a while, and it is time to say something about it.

Those who are familiar with my work know my style…

I am not a bully. I am passionate, and I can occasionally get polemical, but I am definitely not a bully.

I allow myself to be vulnerable. I admit when I do not know something. I seek your opinions frequently, and I listen to them.

Sometimes, I will know something—or I will have a strong opinion about something—but I scale back the way I present it so that I don’t bowl anyone over. Because I want to hear other views too.

I answer just about everyone’s comments, and I emphasize civility in those discussions. I do not always succeed in being civil, of course, but I do most of the time.

Because I try. Because I deem civility to be a value.

Sometimes people come out swinging right away—testy, condescending, dismissive, sarcastic, or openly hostile. I could easily respond in kind, but I let it slide, in hopes that something good might come out of a calmed-down discussion.

Instead of meeting fire with more fire, I turn into water. Here too, I do not always succeed, but I do often enough.¹

I am not going to change. Nonetheless, I have noticed that some people perceive all this as a sign of weakness.

For some, vulnerability is seen as weakness. Not “fighting back” when someone comes at me hammer-and-tongs is seen as weakness. Not playing the part of the tough-guy leader is seen as weakness.

Some even show signs that they think they can take advantage of me, based on this perception. (Don’t worry—they cannot.)

I don’t much care, but this phenomenon has been interesting to observe. Something is at work in the limbic system—in the processing center of the brain that we share with other mammals. Something that still has us playing follow-the-leader.

Climb the ladder. Find your place in the hierarchy. Follow the guy who yells the loudest.

I have seen this at work time and time again. Even craven shitposters attract a following just because of how loud they bluster.

Frankly, I think the human species can do better than this.

I have no doubt that some would indeed be more impressed (fooled) if I played the part of the leader-with-all-the-answers. The limbic system is strong in all of us.

But I am not going to do that. That is not how I roll.

I think I have got a fair number of good answers. I am happy to share them and blaze new trails. But I want you walking by my side—not following me.

#3
I am what I am

I was just gonna leave it there, but as I was writing this, something popped up in Notes that seemed apropos:

I remember a few years back when I first heard all the kerfuffle about alphas, betas, and sigmas. Apparently, the debate had been going on for quite some time before I even knew about it.

I didn’t really look too deeply, so my takeaway was pretty simplistic: sigmas are confident and have had a similar number of sexual partners as alphas, but don’t feel a need to be bossy or take credit for things. That seemed to ring true. That is definitely a type.

The only other takeaway from my limited experience with the debate was the fact that some were claiming that sigmas “don’t exist.” It did not take long to realize where that was coming from. As I said in my reply to

Angela Morris

’s Note:

The people who say Sigmas don’t exist are usually Betas who wish they were Alphas and resent Sigmas for not giving a $h1t about the stupid hierarchy.

After I worked that out, I stopped caring. “Sigma” seemed to apply to me more than anything else, but I didn’t really give it much more thought until one night when my wife and I were out with another couple at a greasy sports-bar restaurant…

I had had my one drink for the night, and I was feeling good. I got up to go to the bathroom.

Somehow, owing to an odd configuration of the restaurant, I walked down the wrong hallway in my search for the bathroom. After I had walked about 15 feet, I heard a voice behind me, gruff and commanding:

“Hey, where are you going?” He might as well have said, “Where the fuck are you going.” That was the tone.

I turned, looked him right in the eye, smiled, and said,

“Hi.”

And then I went and found the bathroom.

It all became crystal clear in that moment. His voice, his posture, his predatory stare all told the tale. This was an Alpha. He expected me to defer to him.

A Beta would have. Another would-be Alpha would have wondered if he should fight him, or stand up to him or whatever. I did none of that. I just didn’t care.

I realized—I am not in the hierarchy. The hierarchy exists, but I am not a part of it.

You Alphas fight it out, and you Betas defer. You Omegas become serial killers, or whatever it is you do in response to the fact that kids were mean and girls never gave you the time of day. If you need me, I’ll be over here eating Fun Dip, not giving a f__k.

Obviously this relates to the topic above about my style and approach. While no one can be fully categorized, I certainly have many of the traits attributed to “sigmas,” as described in

Tara

’s article (which Angela had restacked), and elsewhere.

I have worked with successful people before. Very often, they are unbelievably full of themselves—basically holding court no matter where they go. I have occasionally wondered if that is a necessary trait for success. I am hoping it isn’t.

I am trying to do something big, but I don’t need to be some big leader. And I don’t need to get credit or be famous or hold court.

I am trying to build a nation—not by taking charge or establishing a cult of personality, but by thinking, listening, and helping.

I want to do it because it is the right thing to do.

Is that possible? I think it is.

1. Sometimes, the results are astounding—even ending in new relationships from time to time. And in every such case, kudos to the other party for finding a way to that place!