The Gambler's Fallacy

About a million years ago, I worked with a freelancer who struggled with deadlines. I know, what a unique story! But I specifically remember the day they emailed to say that they wouldn't be able to complete an assignment because their best friend had killed themself the night before. That's the kind of horrible thing that you don't push back on (and the assignment wasn't anything critical) so I expressed my condolences and kept them in my thoughts.

Maybe three years after that, that same writer was working on a story for a close colleague, then emailed because they couldn't complete it as — you guessed it — their best friend had killed themself the night before. That's awful, right? How could that happen twice to the same person? I mentioned that tragic confluence to my colleague, who alluded to it in passing to the writer (nothing shitty, just like "it must be so hard to go through this again"). The writer had no idea what they were talking about. I dug out the old email to make sure I hadn't imagined the whole thing. I hadn't.

This isn't a story about procrastinating freelancers who say outrageous things, however. It's about the times we do have a bananas repeat, the kind of thing that makes people say "what are the odds," a question that turns me into even more of a pedant than I already am.

So three Sundays ago, I was walking down a San Francisco street with Eddie, our former foster dog who still comes to visit when her family travels. Suddenly, we were attacked by large dogs that were expected by their owners, it appears, to run — unleashed and unharnessed — from their street-parked car to their nearby home. Instead, they flanked and went after us. I was wearing heavy jeans, because I am in a workwear phase, and was just bruised and scratched. Eddie got it a lot worse. She's OK, don't worry, but it'll be a long time until she fully recovers. Still, it could have been so much worse. We are very lucky.

(Yes, Eddie was leashed. No, the guardians did not give me their information. Yes, I did find it out anyway. Yes, I have reported it to all the proper authorities. No, those authorities have not done shit. Yes, we still see these dogs running around on the sidewalk off leash. Yes, I have told everyone in the neighborhood — especially the most gossipy folks — to avoid the area. Yes, I contacted our local district supe to escalate. Yes, Eddie's guardians have shouldered the vet costs on their own. Yes, we are pissed.)

Exactly three weeks later, my little dog, Murphy, was sunning himself outside our shop when a (leashed) dog darted toward him, clamped her jaws around his neck, and shook him like a rope toy. I was across the street and heard my husband, Tim, yelling. Our security video shows Tim run from the back of the shop to the front in record pace, he saved Murphy from what would have been...I don't want to type it. Murphy is OK, don't worry. He has some horrible looking bite wounds, is on a shit ton of the good drugs, and has no appetite, but as of last night he's on the upswing. Still, it could have been so much worse. We are very lucky.

(Yes, Murphy was leashed. Yes, the other dog's guardian gave us their information. Yes, we have been in touch and they have already taken steps to ensure this does not happen again, including muzzle use and a training plan. Yes, we are still making vet visits so money stuff is in the air. Yes, we are freaked out but we are not pissed — unlike the Eddie case, everyone is doing everything right. No, we haven't bothered reporting this to any authorities because they haven't even done anything about the first, clearcut case.)

In both cases, our next door neighbors witnessed the aftermath. "How did this happen again?" one asked. "What are the odds?" It took all my power not to say "the mistaken belief that past events influence future events is called the Gambler's Fallacy; I'll send you a link." Honestly, I probably would have if I hadn't been dripping with dog blood.

I don't believe anyone who starts a theory with "there are two kinds of people in the world." So I'll just say that I think there's a spectrum, with the gambler's fallacy on the left side, what John Irving described as the Under Toad — this belief that disaster is always lurking around the corner — on the right. (These are neutral side designations, not political perspectives!) Being smack in the middle is probably ideal, though. You go too far to the right, and you're looking for tragedy. Too far to the left, and you actively ignore it.

If you have actually had two friends kill themselves within the past few years, I imagine you find yourself leaning Toad — between dealing with those incredibly sad losses and the people who say "again???" it's probably hard not to feel like the world is a rotten minefield. (If you employ a false scenario like that to avoid a deadline, I have less of an assessment of your character. I mean, just say you fucked up and can't get it done on time! People will understand!)

In Irving's The World According to Garp, out of which that Under Toad first hopped into readers' brains, everyone dies, eventually. So will Eddie, and Murphy, and me. We don't get excused because we used up our allotment of unpleasant experiences early. (This is not a John Irving analysis podcast, don't @ me to say "that's not what the book is all about," I don't care.) But what am I going to do, walk around mourning everyone in advance? I'm exhausted just thinking about it, the same way I am every time someone says some shit about living every day like it's your last. Cool idea, but I have a credit rating to think about.

It also doesn't mean — as some especially Toad-leaning folks have suggested — that San Francisco dogs are somehow bananas (false), that my neighborhood "has gone downhill" (also false), or that certain breeds of dogs need to be banned (as a greyhound guardian, I'd be a hypocrite if I believed that). It just means we had two weird and crappy experiences within a couple weeks, and we're doing what we can to get through them. But to claim that this bespeaks a bigger narrative (besides that Spencer's Gifts philosophy of "shit happens") seems like the worst mix of Gambler and Toad. Fuck that noise, I have deadlines to miss.

Links from me

Over at Indianapolis Monthly, our Best Restaurants list is out! It's likely you'll have to at least pass through Indianapolis at some point in your life, so if you want to see where I think you should eat when that day comes, here you go.

I've also been pitching in on Vanity Fair's film fest live blog since the Venice International kicked off late last month, which is really fun. This coming weekend, we'll also be liveblogging the Emmy Awards starting at 8 AM ET, so please come by to read whatever I have to say about TV.

Elsewhere

Writing for the SF Chronicle, critic Cesar Hernandez said this about Silicon Valley restaurant Valley Goat: "The space looks like a Pinterest board come to life, finely attuned to the interests of plant moms who shop exclusively at Anthropologie." Now, do I think this might be a little uncomfortably gender specific? Sure, but do I also know exactly how that restaurant looks after that single sentence? Yup, indeedy.

Over at our true crime analysis site, Best Evidence, my colleague Sarah D. Bunting wonders "What 'real' true crime could learn from Only Murders In The Building." I love this question! Sadly, one of the answers is not "dips are a perfectly acceptable dinner" but I guess we're talking true crime, not dining and wellness, here.