Entry #5: The Propinquity Effect Gets Wet

I am not a huge fan of water. I do not like interacting with ignorant people. I am not a fast swimmer. My fair skin burns very easily. These are just some basic facts about me. So, when I look back on the four years I spent as a beach lifeguard for my hometown's tourist-packed oceanfront, I often question my motives.

Working for Virginia Beach Lifesaving Service is a lucrative job to some. Many high school and college students from my area live for the rush of dangerous water rescues, enjoy slapping band-aids on tiny cuts, and find a certain joy in telling 50 people a day that, "no, being stung by a jellyfish will not kill you, please do not be afraid."

However, if this fabulous man (o-war) lays tentacles on you, you better start praying.

While my 16-year-old self may not have not fit the bill for a typical VBLS hotshot, I applied anyways. After passing a godawful swim test with one second to spare, getting fitted for the lingerie that was supposed to be a uniform, and receiving my CPR/First-Aid certifications- I was an official beach lifeguard.

I should really divulge that my decision to apply for VBLS in high school was based heavily on the desire I had to make some new friends at the time. To do something exciting. To be challenged. To blow a plastic whistle and command respect. What better way to complete these objectives did I have than to work among Virginia Beach's finest? 

So heroic they only need one plastic lifesaving device.

Social psychologists define the propinquity effect as the tendency for people to form friendships or romantic relationships with those whom they encounter often. Propinquity itself can be the physical proximity of two or more people, a kinship among a group, or a similar nature shared by individuals (think: like attracts like). In the case of my time at Virginia Beach Lifesaving Service, propinquity will be defined as the physical proximity of myself to my fellow lifeguards. In fact, the propinquity effect is seen to often occur in the workplace, because of the frequent interactions employees tend to have.

Dwight and Jim: A perfect example of the propinquity effect in action...
or the rare occurrence of workplace soulmates? 

That first summer at VBLS, I worked hard at making friends. I went to Guard nights at local pizza places, frequented the parties hosted by some of my older colleagues, and was generally the friendliest newbie that VBLS had ever seen. I worked a lot. I was constantly stressed out about the prospect of actually saving lives for a summer job, as seen through my forever bitten-off nails and interminable state of mental anxiety.

However, the friends I made during the summers were what made VBLS worthwhile, or so I believed. I thought that the "elite" lifeguards- those who had worked there for 5 years or more- were the coolest and most beautiful people I had ever laid eyes on. Tanned skin, rock hard abs (male or female), bristling confidence, and skill. While I felt like Patrick Starr in a bikini every time I ran into the ocean, the elite guards made even the toughest water rescues look easy and fun. I yearned to look as good wet as they always seemed to.

"I'm sure your mother will bang me in appreciation for saving you."

Because I worked at VBLS full time, I spent many hours with my fellow lifeguards, elite or not. And because of the propinquity effect, I became friends with and even romantically inclined towards a lot of them. I became attached to one lifeguard in particular, whose name will be changed to Davey Dearest, and whose skills in the realm of ocean rescue far outshined his sadly dimwitted nature. I spent many of my precious breaks traveling down the beach to sit with Davey Dearest on his stand, where I would laugh and joke with him, while he sat and pretended to understand my humor.

Things progressed with DD, and even went so far as him asking me out on a real date, not during work hours. Of course, I readily agreed and raced home after my shift was over to prepare myself for the first night of the rest of my life.

READY!

Long story short- going out with Davey Dearest was not the flowers and candy i thought it would be. It turns out, he was a complete asshole. The fancy dinner he promised me turned out to be French Fries at Sonic and a greasy hand down my pants. Needless to say, it took about a half hour of courting Davey for me to realize that the wedding I had planned in my head was not happening and that getting the hell out of his terrible Jeep Wrangler was my best alternative. I walked/jogged/sprinted to my friend's house and left Davey Dearest to pay the hefty Sonic drive-thru tab and feel guilty. Which I am sure he didn't.

In 1979, a very smart man named Sir Peter Ustinov said, “Contrary to general belief, I do not believe that friends are necessarily the people you like best, they are merely the people who got there first”. This quote rang true for not only Davey Dearest, but 98% of the rest of the VBLS lifeguards as well. I didn't like Davey because of his outstanding morals or above-average regard for woman, I liked him because he was always there. Same with the rest of the VBLS'ers I had gotten close to. These "friends", as lustrous and wonderful as I believed them to be, were actually not my friends at all. Many of the guys (DD included) had a running bet on how many of the female guards they could sleep with by the end of each summer, and almost all of the girls were catty and hateful to anyone who received the coveted male attention.

Red outfits, perfect smiles, evil agendas. VBLS in a nutshell.

Although it may seem like I snapped out of the terrible social side of lifeguarding rather quickly, I sadly did not. As mentioned before, I spent four summers working with some of the most dastardly heroes of all time. I fully believe that the social psych phenomenon of the propinquity effect (the tendency for people to form friendships or romantic relationships with those whom they encounter often) was the reason for not only my continued efforts at being an average lifeguard, but also my continued efforts at making average friends. It was not until I quit VBLS cold turkey last summer that any of these realizations even came to pass through my anxious, waterlogged mind.

To further prove my point:
Let it be known that Davey Dearest never apologized!
Let it be known that half of the lady guards at VBLS didn't even know my name!
Let it be known that propinquity sits in the lifeguard stands of the Virginia Beach oceanfront!

And let it be known that no one looks good in red.

Entry #4: Normative Social Uggfluence

Warning: this blog post is likely to be a bit of a rant.

Let's talk about my pet peeve. Uggs. Uggs on college campuses. Uggs in the supermarket. Girls in Uggs. Questionable men in Uggs. Babies in Uggs. Anyone in motherfucking Uggs. I cannot stand this trend, and to be honest, it has gotten completely out of hand.

I mean, what? Aren't you sweaty? YOU'RE IN THE DESERT.

The Ugg Boot style of footwear originated in Australia, where a bunch of surfer weirdos decided they needed something cozy on their tootsies between the gnarly thrashing sets. Since sheep are very prevalent over in AussieLand, the surfers decided to make the shoes out of their wool.

And so, Uggs were born. And my nightmare began. 

Black hair, black Uggs. Blonde hair, blonde Uggs.
Here's a secret: you both are the worst, ever.

Normative social influence is defined by social psychologists as influence resulting from a person's desire to gain the approval of others or to avoid disapproval. It is one of two reasons for conformity found in human behavior. The other reason, informational social influence, is influence resulting from a person's willingness to accept others' opinions on reality. While informational social influence is (shockingly) based on information, normative social influence is based instead on the fads and trends of idiotic teenage girls. Just kidding- but not really. 

The Ugg Boot phenomenon is a horrible, but excellent, but horrible, example of normative social influence in action.  On the sleek and streamlined Ugg Boot Australia website, it states that, 

"In 2000, UGG Sheepskin boots were first featured on Oprah’s Favorite Things® and Oprah emphatically declared that she “LOOOOOVES her UGG boots.” From that point on, the world began to notice."

And notice it did. Ugg boots became one of the most successful fads of the 21st century. While the boots may have been created for men, it is women that have taken the trend to the next level. Celebrities, stay-at-home-moms, elementary-age prima donnas, and of course, my collegiate peers can be seen glued into their Ugg boots year round. For example, the gorgeous valley surrounding James Madison U is presently dancing ever so sweetly into spring. It is hot out. But I can still venture out onto the quad any given weekday and find at least a handful of girls wearing their Uggs. Proudly.

Everything about this picture makes me feel uncomfortable. 

The sheer power and ferocity of normative social influence is the only logical reason I can think of for Ugg's success. I know in my heart that if girls would just look down at their feet when trudging to class, or gallivanting through the mall, or going on a date, that they would realize what a bad fashion decision they have made. Because honestly, nothing is worse than a cute girl in an awesome outfit, who ends the outfit in Ugg Boots. For me, the act is synonymous with having beautiful, shapely, muscular legs that turn despondently into cankles. It's unfortunate. And it must be stopped.

Stopped at all costs. 

Normative social influence is not always evil. Sometimes, humans can band together for good. In fact, a group identity is usually healthy. We see lasting social influence in school relationships, friendships, families, and within almost all peer groups. And thankfully, fashion trends come and go.

 But until the Ugg Boot is long gone, my nonconformist feet will continue to stick it to the man.
In Vans.

Entry #3: On Buyer's Regret and Wal Mart's Fancy Cousin

Today I tried scouring my procrastinating mind for a provocative yet poignant blog post entry idea... to absolutely no avail. For at least a solid half hour I ran through a slew of recent chapters in our lovely social psychology text, hoping that some academic concept would weave itself gracefully around a personal memory of mine and, voilà!, the assignment would be written and completed in no time. 


That did not happen. So I went to Target. 

There she is, the gleaming bane of my scholastic existence. 

It was only an hour or so later, while audibly fretting to myself in the bright red corporate checkout line, that I realized my blog topic was blatantly obvious. In fact, I was about to experience it. 


Cognitive dissonance is defined by both Wikipedia and our textbook as a feeling of discomfort caused by simultaneous conflicting cognitions- these could be emotions, values, beliefs, or ideals. Basically it means that as humans in good(ish) conscience, we tend to get upset when the projected images we have of ourselves do not match up with our actual behaviors or actions. We aren't always/usually/ever the best people we can possibly be. Shocking. 

Are you trying to convince America you aren't a crook Richy?
Or are you juuust trying to convince yourself?

Now, my own example of cognitive dissonance may not be on as large of a scale as Watergate was, but it is something that affects most of us red bloods on a daily basis. Two words: buyer's remorse. The All-American dilemma.

Really betch? The plane just wasn't doing it for ya?

Come on people, you know the feeling. You just got a chunky paycheck (or in my case, an exaggerated food stamp). Your bank account balance is in black. Your pockets are weighed down. You're feeling frisky. So what do you do? You shag your butt to the nearest retail monster and try to tell yourself you will "just look at the sale rack for a second". And after two hours, you end up like me. 

"I really need this plunger."

I am in a constant state of buyer's remorse. I know I need to save money for, I don't know, LIFE, but I am so easily convinced (by myself) to spend any hard earned cash as soon as it is in my possession. If justifying consumerism was an olympic sport, I would be Michael Phelps. I can create ludicrous pro and con lists for that blouse/jean jacket/perfume/necklace/speedboat in about five seconds flat. It's a gift. In fact, one of the ways cognitive dissenters can sleep at night is through reducing the negative effects of their actions. Usually this is done by putting space between the right and wrong decisions. So by convincing ourselves that whatever decision we make is much better than the other, nasty, weird, gross, terrible one, we effectively reduce our cognitive dissonance. Meaning we effectively feel better. 

And if we feel better, we buy more!
That tank top could restart a third world economy!
Go America!!!

In conclusion, although Target's internal battle of retail raged deep within me, I eventually found some peace. I knew that the crippling remorse I felt as I walked out of the store clutching my single plastic bag was just a momentary cognitive discomfort felt during a lifetime of dissonance.

Besides, I really needed those shoes. 

Entry #2: You aren't always what you eat

In social psychology, the fundamental attribution error (or correspondence bias) is known by some as the cornerstone concept to understanding and analyzing human behavior. The term is defined as our human tendency to over-value a person's personality or disposition as a way to explain their behavior in a given situation, instead of considering any outlying factors as a means for explanation. Basically, when we see someone do something (whether it is smart or dumb or right or wrong), we chalk it up to them. Their personality, their morals, values, attitudes, whatever. We rarely stop and consider any other influences.

Now, we could just believe that these are very strange men.
But we don't know how hot it was in the photography studio.
We don't know what it is like not to be able to afford shirts. 

My own real-life example of the fundamental attribution error took place a little before and during the beginning of college. I had heard the rumors: college makes you fat, the freshman fifteen is inevitable, JMU has the best food of all time, etc etc. I didn't believe my friends and family. I thought to myself, college does not make a person fat. The person makes themselves fat.

I'm sorry, but this was all you honey.

I mean, how could someone possibly slip into the realm of tubby while away at school? JMU had a gym. I liked salad. I had tons of free time. I would be fine. In my head, the people I knew that put on weight during their freshman year of college were lazy, unhealthy, and previously inclined towards heiferdom anyway. It was in their souls to be chubby undergraduates. However, this way of thinking was my fatal mistake. I attributed their downfall to their dispositions. Their personalities. Who they were made them fat. I did not believe the situation had anything to do with it. I did not blame college.

Boy, was I wrong. 

As wrong as a motherf****ing duck phone. 

During my freshman year at James Madison, I learned what buffet style eating was. I learned about ice cream at E-Hall. I learned about grilled cheese Thursdays. And I got a scholarship in binge drinking. Eating healthy was harder than I previously thought. 

No one wants a salad on Sunday morning.
They want 500 mg of Advil and some dangerous carbs. 

Not to mention, going to the gym was a pain in my (growing) butt. After an exhausting midmorning to afternoon of rigorous general education classes, napping always sounded more promising than a trek to the University Recreation Center. Plus it was always crowded when I wanted to go work our. Plus it was a really far walk. 

What I am trying to say is, I got fat during my freshman year of college. I put on about 20 pounds in a matter of months, as a result of all of the aforementioned vices that greedily snuck their way into my life, into my pants. When I went home for Thanksgiving Break, I got lunch with a couple of high school seniors that I was friends with. Suddenly aware of myself, and aware of my weight, I warned them intensely of the trials and tribulations that awaited them during their first year of higher education. The parties! The food! The laziness! The food! I blathered to my young friends about the same things I had scoffed at only a year before. I desperately wanted them to know it wasn't my fault that I was a fatty. It wasn't my inner Michelin Man that had caused this. 

This picture is only here for the sake of science. 

Yup, I had gained weight. However, I had also gained some perspective. Perhaps it was not an innate personal quality to get chunky. Perhaps the freshman 15 really was situational. A collegiate slap-in-the-face, if you will. A test of one's budding self-control. An impossible challenge to a naive freshman like myself. Luckily, I had been decently athletic in high school. And I really did care about my health. So after a year and some change spent as a heavy-hitter, I got myself in shape. While blaming college for the size of my thighs was easy (and pretty accurate), it was me that had to fix it.

After all, it was, fundamentally, my own error of fattribution. 

Entry #1: If you believe it, you can achieve it

I'm going to start this required social psych e-diary off with a bang, or, with a lesson on self-fulfilling prophecy that will properly legitimize my blog's title.

Sometimes, I am awkward. To someone that does not know me very well, this fact may come as a surprise. But it is true. The friends that know me best also know that my self-proclaimed awkwardness is not an embellishment, nor a cheeky attempt at attention- but the dirty truth. My awkwardness and my chosen topic of self-fulfilling prophecy go hand in lovable hand.

Psychologists define self-fulfilling prophecy as a prediction (or belief) that either directly or indirectly comes true because of the simple fact that it was believed.

For instance, Katy Perry was much more likely to fall into this giant cake if she sat backstage before her show believing that she would. The funny thing is, she probably didn't do that and she still fell into a cake.

Mega-rich celebrities are not the only ones affected by self-fulfilling prophecies. I myself have also fallen prey to the endless taunt of the self-fulfilling prophet. I mentioned that I can be awkward. And I can be. The issue is, I have not always been this way. In high school, I was just as weird as I am now (perhaps even weirder). The difference is that in high school, I never believed it. I embraced my freakish tendencies. Cherished my ability to make even the strictest of teachers smile uncomfortably. It was not until college that the term 'awkward' even planted itself in my vocabulary. 

This isn't awkward. This is cute.

I think it began during my freshman year. When I walked in late to my GPSYC 101 class on the first day of school, I was sweating. Maybe because I knew I was late. Maybe because I walked up and down every flight of stairs in ISAT about five times before finding the correct room. Nevertheless, instead of quietly finding a seat in the back, I stood in the middle of the enormous auditorium and panted while I looked for a spot close to the professor (I have bad vision). It was then that I overheard the unmistakeable whisper of the college female, "she's kind of awkward", directed to her friend, but picked up on by me. As I stuffed my freshman butt into an open seat in the second row, I began thinking. Maybe I was awkward. I had always found myself endearing, or at least quirky. But this new observation from one of my peers got me thinking. And the thinking eventually came true. 

I began believing that I was an awkward caricature of my former self. Everything I did, whether it was interact with a professor, or talk to some hot piece at a party, or get in line at d-hall, I thought to myself, "I am so awkward." But none of those activities were ever awkward or uncomfortable to me in high school. Back then, nothing was off limits. I used to play a game called 'satellite' when the final bell rang, and the game involved me finding a random stranger and running around them in an orbit until they said something or made a hasty get away. No shame. 

No shame, and also no boyfriend. 

But the carefree sparkle of my high school high school behavior was no more. I had turned awkward, almost instantaneously, and everyone knew it. Even high school friends who also went to JMU picked up on it. My best guy friend Kyle asked me point-blank, "What the hell happened to you? Where's your swag?" I answered by looking down and the floor and smiling sheepishly. Who was I?! Had the prophecy been fulfilled? Did my belief in my own awkwardness magically transform me into a creepy mixture of Kevin from the Wonder Years and Eliza Thornberry?

Self-fulfilling prophecy would say, yes. Yes it had. In 1968, psychologists Robert Rosenthal and Lenore Jacobson gave a classroom of elementary school students a test and then informed the teacher that a few of the students were "unusually clever", though the students had actually scored quite averagely. The researchers came back at the end of the year and administered the same test. The children named above-average improved their scores exponentially better than the kids who were not singled out. This early example of self-fulfilling prophecy set the framework for a number of studies on the phenomenon- studies that continue today. 

Someone else make her believe she is above average because I'm losing faith in humanity. 

In conclusion, self-fulfilling prophecies can help someone just as much as they can hinder them. And my own social awkwardness is a small price to pay for the lesson in psychology that it has helped me understand. 

However, the next time I need an example for this topic, I think that I will start firmly believing in my nonexistent talent for dancing. We will see how that works out. 

Nope. Still an idiot.