“Every person who missed out on a job interview thinks they’ve failed – they may have been utterly brilliant! Sometimes doing everything well – perfectly, even – doesn’t get the prize, and that’s okay.” ANTONIO DI DIO continues his Short History of Kindness series.

About seven minutes ago I was talking to a mate who has a tough gig. 

Every time he makes a mistake people rabbit on about it in the media and half a million Monday experts like me sit on couches around the land, enumerating all the things we could have done better, blessed only with the certainty of hindsight, the security of our anonymity, and the confidence that we will never have to do it. 

In fact, it’s not even a mistake he’s made, it’s just coming second. He may have executed the best plans in the perfect fashion, but if the opposition had a great day, then by definition he has somehow erred. 

What nonsense. Every person who missed out on a job interview thinks they’ve failed – they may have been utterly brilliant! 

Think about a match between Roger and Some Other Guy at Wimbledon. Both are extraordinary. One of them has to win, the other has to lose. They may both be in the top two on the planet. Is one of them really a “loser” or inadequate in any way? Sometimes doing everything well – perfectly, even – doesn’t get the prize, and that’s okay.

So why do we get worked up about it, and who’s responsible? 

Obviously, there’s a hundred reasons but the one for today is literally the worst person you have ever worked for. 

Years ago, umpiring a kids’ cricket match, a little guy with the most beautiful temperament despaired like Justin Langer when dismissed. Why? He was usually the calmest kid. Turns out his dad had attended and he was desperate to perform, and the 100 he got last week was not nearly enough, he thought, to please dad today. 

Lovely sentiment, but hardly the outcome that his father wanted him to experience. Dad just wanted him to enjoy his game, but he thought his job was to make dad proud. Dad already was proud.

She who works for herself has a slave for an employee and a despot for a boss. We drive ourselves harder than anybody else does, with a lack of forgiveness of our own entirely natural faults. 

Need a list of my faults? Easy – they are scrolling 24/7 inside my eyelids like a mad self-defeating teleprompter. It’s a part of what keeps us nice people – self-criticism stops us becoming arrogant and protects us from hubris – it’s a vital part of being human, and a peculiarly lovely part of being Australian. But the need to do well all the time, in every domain?

My mate Damian and I were leaving a charity do I put on for literate sophisticates (Phantom fans) at a Sydney bar years ago and passed a cartoon on the wall featuring a famous Australian character, “Boofhead”. The guy was at Bondi and looked up at a monstrous wave about to devastatingly crash upon him. My friend pointed to my nearby eldest son, then at uni, and said: “That cartoon looks like him every day, living up to the weight of your expectations.” Ouch. True. 

How many times have I worked harder than I should, done more of this or that than I wanted, sacrificed being where and with whom I really wanted to be (in the office late at night when someone you loved was playing netball or the clarinet) and then criticised myself viciously for not doing enough, or not doing it well enough, or if it did go really well, for not being elsewhere when I should have been. 

We generate expectations of ourselves just like that beautiful kid at cricket. And just like that kid, so many of us do it to impress and please those we love. 

I have done a lot of things to impress mum and dad, and they’ve been gone 15 years, and wouldn’t have given a toss about it anyway. All our loved ones want is for us to be happy, not to impress them. 

Ageing blokes like me have been held hostage to our fathers all our lives, and I’m sure our dads wouldn’t have had a clue about it. 

Check in with those you love. Are they trying to do three impossible things a week to impress you, and is that what you want from them?

Free them from the foolish chains they’ve self imposed, in their mistaken views of what you want from them, and that could be the greatest kindness of all. 

Antonio Di Dio is a local GP, medical leader and nerd. There is more of his Kindness on citynews.com.au