Pet peeve or petty peeve
THE RUB
I shake my head in disappointment when a meeting finishes early and the host closes with, “I guess we’ll give everyone seven minutes back.” It’s a silly irritation. The intent behind the comment is positive. We were productive with our time, and now you can spend that time on other tasks.
The closing phrase implies I don’t have agency over my schedule. From my perspective, the meeting didn’t take time from me. I chose to be there.
Often when I catch myself being bothered by a pet peeve, I ask, “Why am I upset by this?” Sometimes, I feel justified in my fretting, like when someone doesn’t return a shopping cart. But when the answer comes back that it isn't worth the energy, and that the problem is me rather than them, it's time for some work.
THE FRAMEWORK
“Pet peeve” is a clever pairing. Adding pet as an adjective meaning “favorite” or “especially cherished” to modify peeve, “grievance or annoyance,” creates this wonderful expression of an annoyance you’ve practically adopted, one you take pleasure in being irritated by.
I don’t take pleasure in people not returning a shopping cart. That’s just a peeve. Someone misusing a reflexive pronoun (“If you have any questions, ask Molly or myself”) is different. I take pleasure in being a grammar snob and noticing.
But being irritated by someone’s lame time observation, that’s just me being a crank. A petty peeve.
Comedian Ariel Elias gifted me with a fresh reframe. She was discussing joke writing on Mike Birbiglia’s Working It Out.
“I would come at it from this angle of I hate this because blank. Now I've realized... if I say I love this because blank is funny. I had this joke: I don't like cats, because they just seem like they're the hot girl at the bar where they'll only touch you if it's last call. That's their vibe... If I say I love cats because they have this vibe... people are more receptive to it.”
THE PRACTICE
My urge when presented with any peeve is to respond with sarcasm. If, “I guess we'll give everyone seven minutes back.” Then, “That's very gracious of you. Thank you, dear Time Lord.” Those impulses are unproductive and serve as peeves for others. Thankfully, they’ve also helped me learn to filter myself (correct reflexive pronoun usage).
I’m eager to try the Ariel Elias maneuver and transform “I hate that” to “I love that.” For time givers, it’s simple: a quick reinterpretation, a positive comment, and a treat for me. What they're really saying is we finished early. “Great job on a productive discussion.” Next time someone gives seven minutes back to the team and myself (incorrect ), I’m going for a walk.