Sporadic Thoughts: Pretty Good

A story about habit, attention, and being human

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Albert was a security guard who sat in the lobby of the building where I once worked. Everyone called him Al. He was probably in his early-60s, a pleasant fellow who dutifully handled the overnight shift in a downtown Denver office building.

I arrived for my morning radio show each weekday around 4:30 A.M., which is a ridiculous time to go anywhere. The only benefit to working those hours is the next-to-nothing traffic on the road and the guarantee of a great parking spot.

Al was the first person I interacted with to start each day. I’d get off the elevator from the underground parking garage and, on my way to the other elevator, I’d pass his security station. Every once in a while he’d be sound asleep, which always made me smile. I mean, working an overnight shift in a mostly soundless building each night? I’m sure I’d occasionally nod off, too.

But on most days, I’d give him a friendly wave and say, “Good morning, Al. How’s your night been?”

And every single time, Al would answer in the same way, in his deep bass voice with a bit of a sing-song delivery. He’d say, “Pretty good.”

The next day, I’d ask the same question or a derivative of that, and Al would sing back to me, “Pretty good.”

Then I noticed something. If I said anything to Al, I’d get the same response. I could just say, “Hello, Al,” and he’d reply with, “Pretty good.”

It became comical, something of a game. On most days, I’d ask him how things were going and get his pat answer. On other days, I’d say something random, like “Cold out there this morning, Al.” He’d reply with, “Pretty good.”

When Life Runs on Autopilot

Look, there’s a chance Al was quietly playing his own little game, and if that’s the case, I have mad respect for him. Well, I already have mad respect for anyone who makes a living during vampire hours, but more so if he learned to screw with idiots like me who worked in radio.

And side note: There’s also a possibility that Al represents the subset of people who are completely satisfied with “pretty good” in all things. Maybe that’s all they want out of life. But that’s another Sporadic Thought for another time.

See, I think Al’s snappy dialogue is really just a prime example of conditioning. I wasn’t the only person entering the building during his watch, and excluding the d-bags who ignored the guy, I’ll bet almost everyone greeted Al with some version of “How’s it going?” Multiply that times dozens of people a day, times five days a week, times however many years Al sat at that desk, and you’d probably develop a robotic response, too.

Just like the automated reply you give people in the hall at work. When you get “How’s it going?” I’m sure you probably respond with “Not bad, you?” or “It’s all good, man.” Or maybe Al’s patented, “Pretty good.”

It’s social lubricant. It’s how we slide past each other in a frictionless manner. I’m not knocking it; I’m just observing it and describing it. On a daily basis, we say words to our fellow humans that have no real basis in caring, but rather in coexisting. We know we are social beings who have been lumped into a large social setting, and these are the things we must do in order to acknowledge our fellow travelers, all of us spinning around the sun together.

We’re conditioned in more ways than just our verbal responses. We drive the same way to work every day, we eat pretty much the same foods all the time. I know families who have an unspoken agreement about their seating assignments at the dinner table and on the couch. Couples who sleep together have “their side” of the bed. We go through the exact same morning routine every day when we get out of bed, and we seldom vary the order.

Again, none of this is bad. In many ways, having a routine helps our productivity. Some experts insist that eating the same breakfast every morning or wearing the same basic clothes every day frees up actual brain power for more important decisions you’ll need to make throughout your day.

The People Right in Front of Us

It’s just interesting to note how much of our life runs on autopilot. And when we get to the point where we’re not even fully aware of how we’re communicating with our fellow humans—where our responses have just become some pre-programmed assortment of syllables—then it’s no longer, in my opinion, a way of being more efficient.

Rather, we’ve demoted the people around us from interesting, evolved life forms to just part of the scenery that we feel obligated to respond to. When we’re having more joyous conversations with our pets when we walk in the door than we had all day with our own species, it says something to me. And believe me, no one on the planet gets more joyous talk from me than my cat, Niles the Weirdo, when I haven’t seen him all day.

My point regarding Al’s two-word answer?

Maybe it’s just to make ourselves aware of how we’re communicating with the people around us. Maybe we try to put just a smidge more effort into our responses to them, using words and phrases outside the ordinary. I know when someone says something to me that I didn’t expect, I pay more attention to them.

I see them, perhaps really for the first time.

We have such a gift when it comes to communication, and I don’t mean our phones. I mean our language, surely the most advanced among all species—unless whales and octopuses and dolphins are having a great laugh at our expense.

We each deserve to give and to receive a little better than “pretty good.”

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Dom Testa writes fiction and nonfiction, and spends an unreasonable amount of time thinking about ordinary moments.
Find most of his work at DomTestaBooks.com.