The Joy of Missing Out

For most of my adult life, I’ve felt over-scheduled. There was work, followed by helping our kids with homework, followed by cleaning up the mess our kids made while we were helping them with homework. And if I was lucky, I’d squeeze in an hour on the treadmill. Okay, who am I kidding? Fifteen minutes. But it was a very intense 15 minutes of walking slowly while watching re-runs of Parks and Recreation.

Then there were all the social commitments. Every week, I’d look at our calendar and get that sinking feeling that we’d somehow agreed to attend far too many events which, in retrospect, we had absolutely no business saying yes to. Things like a lecture about bald eagles. A fundraising auction to raise money for bald eagles. A wedding vow renewal for acquaintances we hadn’t seen since the invention of the iPhone. Or dinner at another couple’s house, where we discovered the entire meal was vegan and the dessert was gluten-free.

I once spent an evening eating a lentil-based entrée while wondering what I had done to deserve this. My wife and I once even accepted an invitation to a birthday party for our neighbors’ seven-year-old named Bradley. Turns out Bradley was a Labradoodle. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure Bradley was every bit as confused as I was about why he was having a birthday party.

Now that our kids are grown and I’m retired, you’d think life would be less hectic. Nope. We still receive invitations to things we’d really rather not attend. In the past week alone, I’ve been invited to a Chamber of Commerce networking mixer, an award ceremony for our community’s Citizen of the Year, and a lecture about saltwater intrusion. Three events. Zero things I wanted to know more about.

I’ve learned the power of NO. Nowadays, when someone invites me to something like a Baroque quartet performing the greatest hits of Russian composer Prokofiev (of which, in my opinion, there were none), I simply tell them how thrilled I am to be invited and promise to get back to them after consulting with my wife. The main reason for consulting with my wife is to buy myself 24 hours to manufacture a believable excuse.

“I’d love to come, but unfortunately I have to undergo a minor procedure.”

“What kind?”

“I’m not sure. My doctor used a lot of complicated medical words.”

Sometimes, however, I make the mistake of saying YES before my brain has fully engaged. That’s when you need a last-minute excuse. So, for those of you who have accidentally agreed to attend a social event when you’d much rather be home in sweatpants watching television, here are a few tried-and-true excuses.

“My grandmother was rushed to the hospital.”

A classic. You can never go wrong claiming a family member has suddenly taken a serious turn for the worse. The trick is choosing a relative your friends will never actually meet. Grandmother. Uncle. Second cousin. But if you’re in your sixties, you might want to reconsider the grandmother excuse. Your friend may start doing the math and realize your grandmother would have to be approximately 117 years old. Better bet? Go with an aunt. Nobody knows how old Aunt Marge is. Not even Aunt Marge.

“My child came down with the flu.”

Nobody is going to criticize you for staying home to care for a sick child. It makes you look like a devoted parent. Just make sure your friends don’t know your child very well. Because the last time I checked, Natalie is 37, lives in Boston and hasn’t asked you to take care of her since 2007. If your kids are grown, you can always say it’s your grandchild. Even if you don’t have grandchildren. Nobody asks follow-up questions about grandchildren. They really don’t care.

“My boss just scheduled a mandatory work meeting.”

Work comes first. Your boss needs you. Even on a Saturday night. Even at 7 p.m. Even though you’ve been retired for three years. If anyone questions you, just tell them you work for a cutting-edge technology company with a name like NeuroVanta Technologies, QuantumForge AI or SynaptiCore Systems. If they ask what the company does, say: “We’re disrupting the neural-cloud interface through quantum-based adaptive intelligence.” They will quickly change the subject because they’ll be too afraid to admit they have no idea what you just said.

“The plumber is coming.”

This is an excellent excuse because everyone understands plumbing emergencies. The beauty of this one is that the plumber doesn’t actually have to be coming. He just has to be scheduled to come. They’re supposed to arrive sometime between 5 and 9.” Nobody can argue with that. And if someone asks what you’re having repaired, just say the water heater. Nobody wants to hear more. Trust me.

“I just learned I’ve been named Humanitarian of the Year.”

This is an especially good excuse because nobody can possibly be angry with you for accepting a prestigious award for making the world a better place. “I’m so sorry. I just found out that next Tuesday evening is the Humanitarian of the Year ceremony.” Your friend will be impressed, and possibly more than a little curious about what you’ve been doing for humanity all these years. You can even create a fake newspaper front page showing yourself holding a trophy. If you’re going to lie, you might as well have supporting documentation. And really, isn’t that what AI is for?

“I’m entering the Witness Protection Program.”

Save this one for emergencies. And by emergencies, I mean someone you absolutely cannot stand, like your neighbor Bert Higgins, who has invited you to dinner for the fourth consecutive month. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it. I’m entering the Witness Protection Program.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

“Are you in danger?”

“I can’t say.”

“When will you be back?”

“Hopefully never.”

The only downside is that you may actually have to change your phone number, move to another state and undergo extensive plastic surgery. But look on the bright side. You won’t have to attend another one of Bert’s monthly wine tastings ever again.

Of course, sometimes you don’t even need an excuse. Sometimes the person who invited you calls to say they’re cancelling. When that happens, you must immediately feign disappointment. “Oh no! We were really looking forward to it.” Then hang up. Wait five seconds. Look at your spouse. And blurt out “BOOYAH” as you high-five each other.

Kick off your shoes. Put on your pajamas and those ridiculous fuzzy slippers. Grab some popcorn. Find something on BritBox or Acorn TV. Or put on a Ryan Reynolds action comedy. Because sometimes the greatest social event of the week is the one you don’t have to attend. That’s the Joy of Missing Out.

And I’m getting really, really good at it.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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