Apparently the slump of the day begins around noon and lasts until around five. It's caused by some mixture of hormones, the sun, and societal timetables and makes us less vigilant and vivacious. So don't schedule a surgery in the afternoon. Get it done early in the morning. Don't close a sale at 1 PM. Do it in the evening over dinner instead.
It's a no brainer for capitalists to use this for their gains, but while I was Reading When by Pink, I began scheming how I might use it for social gains.
For several days I tried putting theory into practice. And quickly and clearly, I decided that it wasn't worth it. I'll explain my initial plans before I go onto why I decided against such strategy, which was:
If corporate executives leverage the more positively affected parts of the day so that they and their performance is perceived more favorably, why shouldn't I meet with my friends and loved ones during those same periods so that I will be associated with good vibes.
A psychological study found people to rate their attraction to their dates higher when they had drank coffee on the date. Researchers hypothesized that people were misattributing the buzz of the caffeine to the person across the table.
Anyways, I figured why not benefit off some social misattribution myself by appearing in front of people only during peak hours. But, here was my catch-22: I want the people in my life to like me. Yet these are the people I care the most about... so much so that, I care more about them than I do of their perception of me.
I couldn't justify purposefully gaining from misattribution with these people not because I found it wrong or dishonest, but because the way I cared about them is not one in which I'm occupied with self perception. In fact, I do the latter more with my less intimate relationships.
With those closest to me, I'd rather they use their peak times for their own work and whatever else they want to do in life. I want them to spend their peaks wisely, and not with me so that they like me more.
I like better to show up during the days' slumps so that I might cheer them up even if this means my presence might be associated with sluggishness.
Care seems to be mutually exclusive. When I care superficially for someone, I'm more concerned about my own appearance from their perspective. Yet as my bond grows with them and I care more for them, it grows increasingly impossible to spend energy caring of whether they care back for me.
Hilariously, this gets people to care more for me. Care is given and shared.
The score takes care of itself