Do You Know Someone Who Feigns Incompetence?

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

I think my title is self-explanatory, but I am going to tell you my definition of what a person acts likes who suffers from this disorder just to make sure we have no confusion. The symptoms of Feigned or Practiced Incompetence seem to be brought on when the person afflicted with this disorder is asked to do simple tasks by a loved one.  They appear confused, befuddled, and unable to complete the task at hand even though they have been fully trained by the requestor.  They can be wily and self-serving and usually appear hard of hearing. People with this disorder come in all shapes and sizes. You may be married to one, given birth to one, or even live with someone with this problem. They can be armed and dangerous when asked to pitch in or multi-task. Please use caution when dealing with these individuals.

Has anyone ever seen the episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where Ray tells Robert to start doing things wrong so that Amy (his wife to be) stops asking him to help and just does it herself? Ray has a whole system designed to get out of helping around the house.  A couple of years ago at our family beach vacation, my brother-in-law broke the man code and admitted he has a system called Practiced Incompetence that has over the years worked quite nicely for him in getting him out of household duties.  I once saw him pack their van for their trip home from our house, while my sister-in-law was on the phone handling work business.  When he finished packing, half of their stuff was still sitting in our driveway when he declared he couldn’t get anything more in the van. He had this Practiced Incompetence thing down to an art form.  After a while, my sister-in-law happened to look out the window during the call, saw the results of his efforts, promptly cut the call short, and uttered a very bad word, using it as both a noun and an adjective, in some very loud sentences. They ended up borrowing our car top carrier for the ride home and I don’t think I have ever heard my brother-in-law asked to pack the van again.

Well, last night, yet again, we played our own version of this game. For many years now, my husband has always been the last one to come to bed. I used to ask every night, “Did you lock all the doors?” Almost every night after I asked the question, he would get this perplexed look on his face like this is the first time he had ever heard such a thing needed to be done and say, “I think I locked the doors.”  Now, I am not a detective, but I have watched enough episodes of Monk to know that when a person uses the word think in a sentence, hesitates while answering, avoids all eye contact, and has a look akin to a deer caught in the headlights plastered on his face, there is not a chance in you know what the door is locked and he knows it.

This theory has proved correct 90% of the times I have gotten up to double check that the door is indeed locked, although the jury is still out about the basement door that was technically locked one night, but still ajar. Once, I asked him how he would feel if an intruder got in through the unlocked door and kidnapped me and he never saw me again all because he forgot to lock a stupid door.   He pretended he was crying and said he would be very sad, but he and my daughter were high fiving each other and dancing around.  All I know is if someone breaks in and kills us, the last words my husband is going to hear as he is heading for the white light will be, “I told you to lock the damn door!

Which finally brings me to my point. My dogs have a routine. Every night, without fail, I walk the dogs after dinner. I am like the postman; I get the job done in all kinds of weather. If they don’t get this walk, it is a very long night because Vern is relentless in coming around and letting you know we did not follow the schedule. We have discussed this on end about how important that nightly walk is for our mental health and Vern’s well being. On some Thursdays, I meet friends in another town for dinner and my husband is home with the dogs.  Last night I got home and said, “Did the dogs get their walk?”  “What walk?” he asked and told me he had played with them instead.  Houston, we have a problem! I have tried to tell him before that kids and/or dogs do not really call “watch Daddy read a book” playtime and to come up with something else that actually makes them tired. Fudge and Vern were all but standing by my van holding their leashes and poop bags, so I loaded them up and took them to the park. 

Later that night, we had a terrible storm.  Again, my husband is the last one to come to bed.  Every single night, he comes to bed, turns the light out, and within 30 seconds Vern is beside the bed and has to go out for his last potty of the night. One night, I asked him why he didn’t take the dogs out right before he came to bed and he said, “when did we start doing that?” I calculated backwards in my head and said, “We brought Fudge home on 3/13/09, so we started doing it on 3/13/09,” and he looked shocked. This particular night, probably because he was lulled to sleep by the high winds, thunder, and tree branches banging against our windows, he was able to fall asleep in that 30 second window from the time he turned the light out to Vern’s nightly reminder that he needed to go out.  It was a miracle how his deep sleep coincided with that storm. Vern, meanwhile, was not taking no for an answer so it was left to me to brave the weather and get him outside.

Luckily, we were able to dodge the falling limbs and I weigh too much for the high winds to carry me away, because I knew no one inside our bedroom was ever going to admit to anything and come looking for me if I didn’t return. If something had happened, I could see the morning headlines now, “Woman Found Crushed by Tree in Storm. Husband Still Faking Sleep when Police Arrived.”  When I got back to our bedroom sopping wet, I thought about standing over top of him and yelling, “I won the wet T-shirt contest!” but I was too wet and tired and just knew he would say something like, “why are you all wet?” in his sleepiest sounding voice.


Well, I took some notes and one night when my husband and I sat down to dinner, he asked what I was calling this dish we were about to eat.  I said, “How about Blackened Chicken?” and he said, “How about going out to dinner?” and I said that sounded great. I think with more practice, I am going to get the hang of this Practiced Incompetence thing down.

[F, Calla & Luca]

Great tale. You find the best illustrations. I only have the dogs to complain about and their main excuse is that they don't have hands. I like to believe they would help out otherwise but that is a he.. of an excuse. I am a lifelong fan of the Little Red Hen, who did it herself. But her philosophy just doesn't hold in all situations.

[BG and Gavin]

Great one Laurie!  I am sure this will strick a familiar chord with most of us!!

[Jane, Rooney & Stuart]

Well do I ever feel bad about "outing" my dh for his laundry incompetence.  He is of course due to fly back to NYC for the week.  He just came and told me that he has canceled his travel plans, he is too worried to leave me and the doods with a hurricane heading towards Florida.  THAT brings tears to my eyes!!!!!  No he doesn't do laundry but who cares!

[Allyson, Peri & Taquito]

Love it, love it! 

[Jane, Guinness and Murphy]

@Jane, Rooney & Stuart.....good point...yes she's the "pretty one" and also very blonde.  Her husband waits on her and somehow he feels like it's a privilege.

[Lucy & AnnaBelle's Mom]

Well crap ..... the entire time I was reading this post I was thinking I have to comment that "I can't wait until Jane reads this" as I thought how appropriate after the week-end you had!  And then low and behold, Jane has already been here!  Took the wind right out of my sails!  Anyway, the other thing that I kept thinking the whole time I was reading was "Did you ever notice how these Practiced Incompetence people always seem to live with "An Enabler".    Hummmmm.

 

I have to admit that my DH doesn't practice this very often.  I have to give credit where credit is due, and he is a very good husband.  However, I really can relate to the whole packing the car thing.  He cannot load a car/van to save his life.  The scary part of that is that when I met him he was what they called a "loggy" in the Air Force ..... what does a Loggy do one might ask .... well, they load aircraft ... that was his flipping job.  He can load an aircraft with heavy equipment, but he can't load the van with suitcases and doggy stuff.  His excuse is he used a computer to figure out how to load the aircraft!   Ok, that's fine, I'll load the van.  That way I'll at least know where everything is when we stop for potty breaks.

[Joyce & Wilson]

LOL !!  Laurie, always look forward to your blogs...they are the best and yet another awesome writing! Keep it up!

[Jane, Rooney & Stuart]

@ Jane, Guinness & Murphy - Jane - my youngest sister called me one time crying because her apple pie didn't turn out - seems she didn't realize that she was supposed to "PEEL" the apples - yep - she was the pretty one.  LOL  Is your daughter with the spaghetti the pretty one?  They are the worst offenders I think - LOL.

[Janel and Sophia]

I only hope that I can learn this Practiced Incompetence... and use it on my husband.  He too can pretend to fall asleep with the speed of light, when it suits him.   LOL  LOL LOL  You have a marvelous gift in story telling and my sides are aching with laughing so much.

[Jane, Rooney & Stuart]

Laurie - another GREAT blog!  Here is the Practiced Incompetence at my house.  My dh is an international business executive.  He currently works for a mammoth Chinese company, don't ask what he actually does because under threat of death - I don't actually know except that he travels a lot, talks on the phone a lot and texts a lot.  But I do know what business he is in - the SAME business that he has been in his entire life.  Household appliances, as in air conditioners, refrigerators, wine coolers (my personal favorite) and washers & dryers.  He has worked for several of the major U.S. manufacturers - at one point being referred to as Mr. Laundry for his expertise in the business.  Guess who is NOT allowed near a washer or dryer in our home?!  That would be correct - Mr. Laundry is banished forever from EVER doing laundry.  Unless you like your clothes small enough to fit on a Barbie Doll, ohhh and pink - like in every thing pink.  How comforting to know that the guy in charge of new development, manufacturing, marketing and sales of these complex, newfangled new machines - can't run one (wink wink).  Interesting.