Creative people have a great deal of physical energy, but they’re also often quiet and at rest. They work long hours, with great concentration, while projecting an aura of freshness and enthusiasm…This does not mean that creative people are hyperactive, always “on.” In fact, they rest often and sleep a lot. The important thing is that they control their energy; it’s not ruled by the calendar, the dock, an external schedule. When necessary, they can focus it like a laser beam; when not, creative types immediately recharge their batteries. They consider the rhythm of activity followed by idleness or reflection very important for the success of their work.

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Creative people tend to be both extroverted and introverted. We’re usually one or the other, either preferring to be in the thick of crowds or sitting on the sidelines and observing the passing show. In fact, in psychological research, extroversion and introversion are considered the most stable personality traits that differentiate people from each other and that can be reliability measured. Creative individuals, on the other hand, seem to exhibit both traits simultaneously.

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Creative people’s openness and sensitivity often exposes them to suffering and pain, yet also to a great deal of enjoyment… Being alone at the forefront of a discipline also leaves you exposed and vulnerable.

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Every last one of us is a chaos Muppet or an order Muppet

Mahna mahna do do do-do-do!

There are three givens of human nature that queuing psychologists must address: 1) We get bored when we wait in line. 2) We really hate it when we expect a short wait and then get a long one. 3) We really, really hate it when someone shows up after us but gets served before us. 

The boredom issue has been tackled in myriad ways—from the mirrors next to elevator banks to the TVs in dentist’s waiting rooms. Larson mentions a clever solution from the Manhattan Savings Bank, which once hired a concert pianist to play in its lobby as customers waited for tellers. “But Disney has been the absolute master of this aspect of queue psychology,” says Larson. “You might wait 45 minutes for an 8-minute ride at Disney World. But they’ll make you feel like the ride has started while you’re still on line. They build excitement and provide all kinds of diversions in the queue channel.” Video screens tease the thrills ahead, and a series of varied chambers that the queue moves through creates a sense of progress. Another solution: those buzzing pagers that restaurants in malls sometimes give you while you’re waiting for a table. Instead of focusing on the misery of the wait, you can go off and entertain yourself—secure in the knowledge that you’ll be alerted when it’s your turn.

How to play the expectations game? Studies show that we’re much more patient when we’re given an idea of how long we’ll be waiting, instead of wondering whether it will be three minutes or three hours. So, for example, some New York City subway platforms now feature digital displays featuring estimated arrival times for the next few trains. But again, Disney is the master. It posts estimated wait times next to various spots in its long queues—but, according to Larson, it pads the times so you always get to the head of the line more quickly than you’d expected: “You think, ‘We’re 10 minutes ahead of schedule!’ and so you’re happy.” 

Perhaps the most emotional issue in the world of queuing is the human quest for fairness. “When we see people arrive after us and get served before us we get very angry,” says Larson. “We can remember it for days, sometimes. And there have been incidents of ‘queue rage.’ People have drawn knives and guns.”

Sometimes we will make exceptions. We seem to be OK with the idea of an express lane at the supermarket—someone buying one roll of paper towels shouldn’t be forced to wait behind someone buying a full cart of groceries. We also allow for differing priorities at an ER, with more critical cases being admitted first even if they showed up last. 

But in most situations, we demand social fairness. No one is more important than anyone else, and everyone should be served in the order he or she arrived. No doubt you’ve experienced mild queue rage when you choose the wrong line at a fast food counter or a drug store, watching people in the other lines zoom ahead of you.

[…]

I am so guilty of this! [see what i did there…!]

X, whom society’s most mild command,

For instance evening dress, infuriates,

In art is seen confusingly to stand

For disciplined conformity, with Yeats.

Taxed to explain what this resentment is

He feels for small proprieties, it comes,

He likes to think, from old enormities

And keeps the faith with famous martyrdoms.

Yet it is likely, if indeed the crimes

His fathers suffered rankle in his blood,

That he find least excusable the times

When they acceded, not when they withstood.

How else explain this bloody-minded bent

To kick against the prickings of the norm;

When to conform is easy, to dissent;

And when it is most difficult, conform?

A psychologist argues that people base decisions on moral intuition, not reason.

The problem isn’t that people don’t reason. They do reason. But their arguments aim to support their conclusions, not yours. Reason doesn’t work like a judge or teacher, impartially weighing evidence or guiding us to wisdom. It works more like a lawyer or press secretary, justifying our acts and judgments to others.