The Art Of Lying

So I lied again to dad to keep him from having a coronary on Saturday. He was scanning the basement beams and saw the old treadmill we bought on Thanksgiving weekend that year of the blizzard.  "This new - how much you pay?" Papa said. I wasn’t going to tell him the price. He would have dropped right there. No, dad grew up in the 40s in a family that barely survived the '29 depression.  He learned like a lot of us the value of a good day's work and saving for rainy days. I started discounting the price of that treadmill even as the numbers were coming out of my mouth .... like an automatic 75% - for sure - the same way these biosimilar drugs just discount their price within a year from launch.  "$200 pops."  His face dropped. "$200!@%$!" I could feel the disappointment. "I could have made this," he says. "You take PVC, some leather and some hexagon screws - they use those in surgery I hear. You could use your money better ya know, but who am I to judge."  My primary doctor scolded me too the other day at a checkup.  Keep in mind he's sort of a born-again naturopathic physician meets Dr. Baker from Little House on the Prairie. Doc notices a bottle of these Smarty Pants omega gummies fall out of my backpack. "These yours - how much you pay?" It was like listening to my dad. I lied and said $10, which is 77% below what I actually paid. I was admittedly scared to tell him, the way most 18-25 year old guys are scared to tell their doctor they are sick, much less go. "$10!$%@" he said, spinning away from me on his mini stool. "I could have made this." He walks me out of the exam room and hands me a cup of green slop. "Kale, spinach, arugula and cayenne pepper. Secret ingredient, don't tell my wife I told you--nutmeg." I suppose lying helps a lot of us get through uncomfortable situations, avoid conflict, make people feel at ease in tough times, after losing - like “you played great kid, get ‘em next time” - and make ourselves feel okay, like at the end of life when the truth is sad and scary. Some lying is counterproductive - like when I lie to myself that I can safely climb a ladder to trim the tall spruce tree, or that I can run another marathon, this time under 4:30. At work, I suppose there's all kinds of lying - like when we lie to a coworker, a client or a colleague that we know what we're doing, when truth is we don't and we need help. I lie to my bride almost daily about my socks, "yes I washed them," I'll say, and the kids probably lie to us more than they need to, maybe because they don't want us to worry. There's definitely an art to lying and a place for it if well intended, like my price discounting with papa. George Costanza once said "it's not a lie...if you believe it." Of course that's probably true, but also pretty terrifying.