The Culture Of Whine

children in AfricaAbout ten years ago, I finally heard myself the way my mother must have all those years ago. I was a whiner. Sadly, as an adult, I turned into a complainer. Pretty much everything I talked about ended up pointing to some imperfection, some reason for dissatisfaction.

At first I blamed my habit of complaining on the way God made me—I have this love for analysis, so I’m constantly tearing things apart mentally and looking at what works and what doesn’t. Except . . . why wasn’t I talking about the “what works” part as much as I was the “what doesn’t” part?

Now that I hear myself, guess what? I hear the whine in our culture. It’s as if all of us are being trained in the art of complaint.

Botswana1987Kidsrainv2Take the weather, for instance. This is the most innocuous topic in our conversational arsenal, and yet much of what we say about the weather is complaint: it’s sooooo hot, or rainy, or muggy, or dry, or windy, or unseasonal, or unchanging.

Our TV talent competitions reinforce this idea—the food prepared by this home cook or that one is undercooked or lacking a good sear on the bottom or not seasoned quite right. The dance competitions or singing competitions aren’t any different. After all, there can be only one winner, so something has to be wrong with all the other contestants.

Advertisements are the best source of this whine training. Nothing is quite right, which is why we consumers MUST buy their product.

In sports, the refs or umpires always get the calls wrong, or so you’d think by the way the players and coaches react. And fans! Who take their cues from the players and coaches, by the way. Some athletes (here’s looking at you, LeBron James) act as if the refs should call a foul every time they miss a shot. It doesn’t matter how many times you push off, the first time someone pushes off against you, you’re complaining to the ref.

SAINTE_RITA_CONGOWe’re a judgmental society. Politicians can never be right—if they compromise, they’re wafflers and if they stand by their convictions, they’re obstructionists.

The only time we’re happy is when things go our way—which lasts about fifteen minutes. We have to wait too long in line at the grocery store. The music is too loud at church. The traffic is too bad, pretty much any time of the day. The post office loses our mail. Stamps cost too much. Facebook makes changes apparently on a whim. Phone calls to the bank or the DMV or to the Internet provider rarely connect you with an actual person, and if you insist on talking to some one alive and breathing, the wait is too long.

Mokolo South AfricaThe price of gas is too high. The food at the restaurant is too cold, the coffee too bitter.

We are so rarely happy with the goods and services we receive.

In contrast, children in Botswana, the Congo, South Africa, who have so much less than we do, seem happy to have their picture taken. Their smiles put me to shame, and I think, I wish I’d never whine again.

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Published in: on June 19, 2015 at 5:43 pm  Comments (2)  
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2 Comments

  1. Excellent Rebecca! God has greatly dealt with me about this very thing, For all the reasons you state. Great reminder of the way I still have to go.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’ve read several of your posts and this is my fave! I try to consciously think about how I sound or if my words need to be heard. If it’s me whining usually no point in saying it. Thanks for the reminder and the moving photographs.

    Liked by 1 person


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