A Light Bulb Moment

Miscommunication Starts at Home

How many college graduates does it take to change a light bulb?

One. Only one. The answer is obvious and for the record, a terrible punchline. But now that I have your attention, I’ll pose the following exponentially more exhilarating riddle: “Why didn’t the college grad change the light bulb?”

For that answer and before I lose your attention entirely, here’s a bit of back story: Right after my son graduated college, he worked as a data analyst for an IP protection company (spoiler alert: the college grad of the riddle is my son). He had to watch hours and hours of YouTube videos that had been flagged by an AI tool for suspicion of copyright infringement. Basically, his job was to check AI’s work. And he hated it.

It was a remote job. Consequently, he filled 90% of his working hours lying on my couch staring at his computer. When he wasn’t on the clock, he spent his time lying on my couch playing video games, scrolling through social media, or watching anime. And when he wasn’t working or playing on my couch, he was lying on my couch, snoring.

As his mom, I was proud of him for getting a job so quickly after graduating and working diligently even though he found the job tedious and mind numbing. But also, as his mom, I was less than thrilled to have him camped out all day, every day, smack in the middle of my once empty nest. My son was chronically bored, and I was terminally impatient. This combination led to an inordinate number of sighs emanating from the both of us.

So, what does any of this have to do with a light bulb? Well, nothing yet. But that fact, unlike the heretofore mentioned light bulb, is about to be changed.

Now during the time my son took up full time residence on my couch, we did not ask him to cook, clean, or pay rent for either the couch or his actual bedroom. But every so often I would ask him to take out the trash or help put the groceries away.

One morning, as I was leaving for the day and he was already supine on the couch, computer perched on his chest, I asked him to change the light bulb in the front hall closet. “Hey,” I said as I grabbed my coat, “when you get a chance today, can you change this lightbulb?” he replied with his signature “Ungh”.

But when I returned home after a long day of not being home, I flipped the closet light switch, but alas, nothing happened. Well, something happened: I let out a loud sigh, composed myself and headed to the living room where of course my son was lying on the couch only this time on his belly.

Then, in a tone that was less inquisitive and more accusative, I said, “Um, I only asked you to do one thing all day. How come you didn’t change the lightbulb?”

To this he snapped back, “I DID change the lightbulb!”

I’ll let you imagine the tone of my response: “Well, I hit the closet switch, and the light definitely did not go on. So clearly, you did not change the light bulb!”

“Yes, I... wait...” he stopped mid retort, “You wanted me to change that light bulb? I didn’t change that light bulb. I changed the one in the front hall.”

“But the front hall light wasn’t out.”

“I know. It didn’t make sense to me either. But you asked me to change it, so I did.”

Riddle solved: A light bulb was changed, just not the correct light bulb. It was all a big misunderstanding; just a silly and ridiculous misunderstanding; a harmless no big deal misunderstanding.

But seriously, why was there a misunderstanding?

It can be argued (as it was by my son at the time) that it was my fault: When I said, “Can you change this lightbulb?” I should have been more specific by saying “Can you change the closet lightbulb?”

But come on!

Was it really necessary for me to have been that specific? I don’t think so (which is what I argued at the time). Had our roles been reversed, and for some reason my son had asked me to change a perfectly functioning light bulb, I think I’d have done one of two things: I’d either have texted him to confirm which light needed changing or waited until he got home to clarify what exactly it was he had wanted me to do. But I’m certain I would not have pulled out a ladder to change a light bulb that didn’t need changing.

Which brings me to world peace.

Yes, world peace. Did you think I’d share my little light bulb riddle and not link it to world peace? I feel like that’s on you because for me, this riddle perfectly encapsulates so much of what prevents our species from living in harmony. I bet I’ve got your undivided attention now.

Think about it. Even though my son technically followed my directive, he failed his assignment because, he was wholly uninterested in it. As a 20 something college grad, stuck in his parents’ apartment, doing a job he hated, the kid was not the least bit vested in his immediate surroundings. So even though he recognized the absurdity of changing a working lightbulb, he simply went ahead and changed it. He didn’t stop to question his own understanding nor was he curious about why I’d asked him to change it in the first place. After all, I was just his crazy mother who wandered around the apartment sighing all day. His goal was simply to keep my sighs at bay.

Then of course, I made everything worse. When I got home to a dark closet, my instant reaction was anger. I didn’t stop for even one breath to think that there could have been a logical explanation for the unchanged light bulb. Instead, I huffed into the living room and single-handedly created a hostile environment. One minute my son was on the couch minding his own business and the next he was ambushed by a false accusation. So, even though it took less than 10 seconds for us to realize what had happened, I’d managed to unfairly impugn his character. Instead of laughing with me at the ridiculous situation, it was my son’s turn to sigh.

The key to peace is effective communication. And the key to effective communication is a true desire to communicate coupled with the willingness to give others the benefit of the doubt. In our case, my son was not the least bit interested in what I had to say and before our misunderstanding even occurred, we each harbored preconceived assumptions about the other: I assumed my son was lazy and he assumed I was crazy.

As world conflicts go, an unchanged light bulb is as benign as it gets. But what might seem like a simple misunderstanding between a mother and son can shine a light (yes, pun intended) on many of the larger problems facing the world today. It is only when families, communities, and even nations approach each other with openness and humility and are vested in truly understanding and solving problems that we can flip the switch and emerge from our collective darkness.

Now how’s that for a real lightbulb moment?