Just-What-I-Needed

Every once in a while I will read something that really sticks in my craw. For the past week or so I have been mulling over the business management concepts of Just-in-Time (JIT) vs. Just-in-Case (JIC). That there were “concepts” behind these phrases was news to me when I read an article differentiating them in Oprah’s magazine (say what you will about Oprah, but her magazine is an absolute delight). But it resonated with me on several levels so I have been turning it around in my head.

The author, who is a life coach named Martha Beck (and you should know that I heart Martha Beck), introduced JIT and JIC in the context of their origin, which was with respect to manufacturing and product inventory. Historically, car makers would stockpile parts and supplies just in case they were needed to fulfill an order. After WWII, Toyota turned the world on its ear by having on hand only enough parts to keep their production lines moving. If they had more orders, they would obtain the parts just in time to deliver. This innovation made Toyota legendary, and Ms. Beck could not resist but to apply business theory to real life situations.

Most people, whether they realize it or not, have the mindset that resources are scarce. This innate and subconscious fear causes people to stockpile (food, money, love, possessions, etc.) just in case. However, the opposite is true. Basic necessities typically are relatively abundant, and they are readily available just in time.

This realization struck a chord with me on a global level because I do believe that there is an excess of excess in the developed world today. People are driven by the acquisition of stuff: big houses, expensive cars, designer clothes and accessories, electronic gadgets, etc. I am not saying I am not guilty (I love me some diamonds and I know my ass looks better in $100+ jeans), I am just saying that I am very aware of my materialism and I try to limit it. But I do think that the JIC mentality is pervasive on an even smaller scale in everyday life. For example, when I go to the grocery store I have a list of things I want to get. Half of the items are not things I actually need for meals I plan to cook over the course of the following week. They are things I will keep in the pantry…wait for it…just in case. As soon as I deplete our stores of any number of random things (coconut milk, artichoke hearts, cashew butter, peas, what have you) they find their way onto the grocery list. I could wait to buy them until I actually need them for concrete plans to whip up a curry or an antipasto, but I like to have them on hand just in case. Do I believe these items will be unavailable to me at a later date? Not really, although Shaw’s is notorious for disappointment and sending me home with unchecked items on my list. Most likely I am protecting against having to run to the store when we are in desperate need of a change of pace during the week and I am trying to be creative in the kitchen. Although it appears my thinking is a bit dysfunctional, I can’t say that I am inclined to change this approach to my grocery inventory.

Interestingly, my other maladaptive JIC tendencies also revolve around food. I had become aware of this relatively recently (within the past year or so), but I have been trying to understand it only during this past week after reading Martha Beck’s article. Basically, when I am in a situation where there is a buffet or some kind of collective dining, I feel anxious. It is bizarre, I know. But I am on edge and antsy and I think I lose my head a little bit. I have to force myself to approach the buffet line calmly. I don’t need to look around me nervously and get pushy. What is that all about? I know for a fact that some of it is learned behavior from a parent, but I will save that conversation for my therapist. Does the remainder of my behavior really stem from a primal fear that there will be no food when it’s my turn? And when it is my turn, what drives me to put more on my plate than I know I need? Typically I am a proponent of small portions, but turn me loose on a buffet and I become another person. Perhaps I am afraid that the items I have served myself will be so delicious that I will want more, but maybe I won’t be able to get more, and then I never will taste anything so delicious like that again in my life, ever. So I stockpile the food on my plate, just in case. Or I feel compelled to try a bite of every single dessert. Crazy, right? Of course it is, particularly because although my actions support that notion, I don’t truly believe this situation is my one and only opportunity in life to taste something delicious. I also don’t truly believe that if I don’t pile my plate high I will leave the table hungry. And even if I wasn’t satisfied with a more reasonable portion of my selections, so what? There will be other meals. I will not starve.

Going out for sushi strikes a similar fear in my heart. Now, I love sushi. I could eat it every day and twice on Sunday. But there is something about the communal nature of eating it with a group that fills me with apprehension. I first noticed the distress last fall when I went with a group. We were having a grand time. There was plenty of great conversation and laughter as well as great sake. But when it came time to look at the menu I panicked a little. Internally of course, but externally, I opted out of the sushi boat and placed an order of my own. I probably also should have plied myself with more sake to relax, because although effectively making myself a party of one helped to avoid the feeling of ants crawling on me a little bit, I still felt tense watching other people help themselves to offerings on the boat. How could they be so calm? Why weren’t they being grabby or shoveling it in their faces like it was their last supper? I tried to emulate them with my own dish, but it will take much more practice before I am proficient at this particular task.

I have not worked out what this is all about, but now that I have recognized it I can begin readjusting my anxiety thermostat. It seems that without realizing it, I have been operating with a JIC mindset, when what I need to employ in these situations is more of a JIT approach. Even if I don’t taste every single offering or someone else finishes my favorite, there will be other times, and this was just right.

I will have the opportunity to practice this weekend when a friend comes to visit, and as a group, we go out for sushi. Between now and then I will be mentally preparing myself. Yes, I will be engaging in self-talk and rationalization for close to a week in order to eat raw fish with my friends like a normal person. But I thank Martha Beck because I believe she has opened my eyes to my maladjusted behavior, and her article came to me just in time.