Laziness: An Underrated Skill

My brother paid me a compliment: he said I’m lazy. Tim and I have been business partners for decades, and I respect him as a very successful and innovative psychologist. Whenever an idea arises, he gauges my reaction. He believes I’m quick to spot a stinker and avoid wasting energy on meritless notions. I hope he’s right about my wisdom because he’s spot-on about how little patience I have for nonsense.  

As George Santayana observed in Three Philosophical Poets, “Intelligence is quickness in seeing things as they are.” Easier said than done. Corrective vision requires questioning biases and assumptions while ignoring cultural myths. Despite Paula Abdul’s claim, opposites rarely attract, and Erich Segal’s idea that love means never saying ‘I’m sorry’ won’t get you past the honeymoon.

Pulitzer Prize–winning author and cognitive scientist Douglas Hofstadter argues that the real trick of intelligence is being able to ignore most of what’s in front of you and distill a situation down to its essential core. I find that knowing what to ignore is more important than what to focus on. There’s far more chaff than wheat on life’s threshing floors.

It’s not what people say, but what they mean, that is important. I learn the truth much faster when paying close attention to those words that match a person’s facial expression. That’s where the true story unfolds.

Intelligent people sort information quickly. They recognize the plotlines of life’s stories and can discern those rare instances of novelty. After all, most new ideas are merely fervent sales pitches for repackaged old products. 

When a wealth manager touts an amazingly profitable investment scheme, the known market realities temper my enthusiasm. Magic is a poor financial strategy, even when accompanied by extensive, colorful charts. A new acquaintance who liberally infuses her conversation with “I” and “me” is unlikely to be a keen social observer— and even more unlikely to be as interesting to me as she is to herself. 

There are many kinds of intelligence. My granddaughters focus intently on the candy on the pantry shelf. They “intelligently” hone in on their jackpot. My handyman friend, Jerry, is a genius. I present him with a household desire and never dare muddle the waters with my solution. He devises repairs that would never occur to most and delivers them with humility—a rarity among geniuses.

There are also many ways to misjudge our intelligence. A friend proudly tells me she’s saving money because she snagged great deals on three skirts she wasn’t even looking for. Her thrift is really folly masquerading as wisdom.

I value intelligence that accurately explains the world and the people in it. That requires prodigious stores of knowledge gleaned from centuries of astute observations passed down through everything from science to fairy tales.  A quick AI query rarely equips me with Athena’s wisdom. 

Forget sweating every detail; practical intelligence is about knowing what to notice, what to question, and what to ignore. It often stumbles over the stubborn refusal to discard what no longer fits. It’s a shorthand developed over decades and gleaned from extensive reading and careful observation. Then there’s the smell test which incorporates all these factors into a discerning “mental olfactory.” That’s a tall order for a mere mortal. 

On the rare days it all comes together, I can lean back, sip my coffee, and tell Tim he was right: I’m lazy—but in a smart, cunning sort of way. The other 364 days? Well, I’m just as prosaically indolent as the next guy.