The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap

Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster.

That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works.

Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could download an entire email in under ten minutes if the phone line didn't drop first.

Our Vice President of Education was convinced this was the future of learning. He ordered us to connect to a new Bulletin Board System (BBS), which meant enduring the shrieking handshake of the modem, the glacial drip of text across the screen, and the constant suspense of whether the system would freeze before you got anywhere interesting. Most colleagues smirked and wrote it off as a passing fad. I was one of the few brave (or gullible) souls who actually tried.

I'll admit, part of me was genuinely thrilled—watching words crawl across the screen felt like glimpsing a secret digital universe. But another part of me wondered if this was less "revolution in education" and more "expensive hobby for insomniacs." Still, voicing those doubts felt risky. It was easier to nod along with the vision than to risk being branded the pessimist.

That, I realized, is the core of the Pessimism Aversion Trap—the tendency to avoid sounding negative, even when realism is exactly what's needed.

It's easy to see why we fall into this trap. Our culture prizes optimism, encouraging us to "stay positive," "look on the bright side," and "believe in ourselves." And optimism is powerful—it fuels innovation, leadership, and courage. But if optimism becomes the only voice in the room, it crowds out the equally necessary voice of caution. Risks remain unspoken, blind spots unexamined.

The danger of this trap is clear. By avoiding pessimism, we don't prevent problems; we amplify them by pretending they don't exist. Yet, realism is not the enemy of hope—it's its guardian. Sometimes, the most constructive thing we can do is to ask, "What could go wrong?" so when we step forward, we do so wisely.

The messiness I worried about with that Tandy was a reality for decades. From its clunky start in the late 1980s to the rise of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs) in the 2010s, online education was often seen as an imperfect substitute for in-person learning. Then, in early 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic changed everything.

It took more than 30 years from that first experiment to make online learning an actual, practical reality for millions of students and professionals. The technology and the cultural acceptance finally caught up because they were no longer a mere option, but a necessity.

Looking back, the digital revolution wasn't a smooth, triumphant launch. It was messy, full of fits and starts, and it demanded honest conversations about what wasn't working. The real magic wasn't just in the vision of a connected future—it was in the willingness to acknowledge the obstacles along the way.

So the next time you hesitate to speak up, remember that old Tandy 1000 and its screeching 300-baud modem. Progress doesn't come from pretending everything will work—it comes from the courage to name what might not, and then pressing forward anyway.

I'm Patrick Ball. This is On the Fly. Stay curious and ask questions. See you next time.

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄 Preview of this week's On the Fly blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode, How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...

Believing Is Seeing

🎄 In this episode, Believing Is Seeing . . . It's December, we bustle, we wrap, and we dash. We sort life into boxes— myths here, to-dos in a stash. We whisper of Santa (adult code: “Not Real”), but hold on one minute—let’s rethink this whole deal. For the stories we cherish, the movies we stream, hold more truth in their sparkle than we grown-ups may deem. So hop in this sleigh and hold on real tight— We’re chasing down Santa by the glow of his light! Scott Calvin once landed in the North Pole’s cold air, with elves, cocoa, and snow everywhere. He squinted and frowned—“This just cannot be so!” (Like thinking tangled lights will detangle if we blow .) Then Judy the Elf gave a cocoa so steaming, and said something simple . . . yet surprisingly gleaming: Seeing’s not believing—no, that’s not the key. "Believing is seeing!" Just trust, and you’ll see!” Kids don’t need a map or a satellite screen to know Santa’s workshop is her...

On The Fly

Search This Blog