Being cheerful keeps you healthy. . . .
Proverbs 17:22 GNB
CHAPTER 4
Let’s Get Organized with Perfect Melancholy
Oh, how the world needs Perfect Melancholy!
The depth to see into the heart and soul of life.
The artistic nature to appreciate the beauty of the world.
The talent to create a masterpiece where nothing existed before.
The ability to analyze and arrive at the proper solution.
The eye for detail while others do shoddy work.
The aim to finish what they start.
The pledge, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.”
The desire to “do all things decently and in order.”
Before I understood the temperaments, I did not appreciate people who weren’t like me. I wanted the fun-and-games approach to life, and I was too preoccupied with myself to realize my deficiencies or to want assistance. As I became self-analytical, I started to see that while I was a good front person, I didn’t have much follow-through. I began to value Fred’s depth, his sensitivity, his organization, his lists. I began to see the need for a true helpmate like Fred, and for Perfect Melancholy friends who could see beneath the surface of life.
Even as a baby the Perfect Melancholy appears to be thinking deeply. He is quiet, undemanding, and likes to be alone. He follows schedules right from the beginning and will respond best to a parent who is well organized. Noise and confusion will bother him, and he will not adapt well to being dragged around to different places and having his routine upset.
When we adopted our son, Fred, we knew nothing about temperaments and didn’t recognize his Perfect Melancholy nature. The caseworker told us he was a serious baby, that he never seemed to smile, and that at three months he appeared to be analyzing everyone who passed by. These traits have been consistent in his life. As a teenager, he was serious and reliable, and he was often annoyed by Marita’s lighthearted attitude. He doesn’t feel life is very funny and finds it impossible to smile in the morning. He still is introspective and analytical, and living in a family of strong extroverts has not changed his temperament pattern.
As adults Perfect Melancholies are the thinkers. They are people who are serious of purpose, dedicated to order and organization, and appreciative of beauty and intelligence. They don’t dash off in search of excitement but analyze the best plan for their lives. Without Perfect Melancholies, we would have little poetry, art, literature, philosophy, or symphonies. We would be missing the culture, refinement, taste, and talent so deep within our natures. We would have fewer engineers, inventors, scientists; our ledgers might be lost and our columns wouldn’t balance.
Perfect Melancholies are the soul, the mind, the spirit, the heart of humanity. Oh, how the world needs Perfect Melancholy!
Deep, Thoughtful, Analytical
Where Popular Sanguine is an extrovert, Perfect Melancholy is an introvert. Where Popular Sanguine loves to talk and throw everything out in the open, Perfect Melancholy is deep, quiet, and thoughtful. Where Popular Sanguine views life through rose-colored glasses, Perfect Melancholy is born with a pessimistic nature, and foresees problems before they happen and counts the cost before building. Perfect Melancholy always wants to get to the heart of the matter. Perfect Melancholy doesn’t take things at face value, but digs into the inner truths.
While Popular Sanguine is talking, Powerful Choleric is doing, and Peaceful Phlegmatic is watching, Perfect Melancholy is thinking, planning, creating, inventing. Perfect Melancholies are willing to stick to dull routines if they can see a result in the future. The Perfect Melancholy child can sit by the hour at the piano practicing scales, perfecting techniques, whereas Popular Sanguine would run through “The Train Song” twice and chug off to play.
The inner workings of the mind are important to Perfect Melancholies, and they start in the crib to observe life around them. As children, Perfect Melancholies have toys that need to be studied, games that have to be analyzed. They like to work things with their fingers, come up with complicated answers to problems, and plan serious recreation with purpose.
In school Perfect Melancholies enjoy term papers and research projects, and they prefer to work alone because conversation only slows progress. They like topics they feel have never been investigated properly, and they respond well to a teacher who is organized and keeps the day going in a logical fashion.
My husband, Fred, as a child, was the only one of his family who liked to do dishes. He liked to analyze the procedure to do it better each time. When I first met him, he was training to be a manager in Stouffer’s Restaurants in New York City, and he was making excellent use of his analytical skills. He still loved doing dishes and was the only one in his group to look forward to dish-room training. He liked going into the pandemonium of the dish room at lunchtime, instituting order out of chaos, and leading the busboys to victory!
Sometimes he carried this skill too far. Once when we were first married, he watched me doing dishes and commented, “You made forty-two unnecessary moves.” I probably did, but I sure didn’t want to hear about it!
One of Fred’s talents Stouffer’s liked the best was his ability to analyze restaurant problems and solve them quietly, with no fuss. As an aspiring young executive, he took pride in being able to stand at one end of the dining room and see every waitress’s bow that wasn’t tied correctly, every picture frame that was crooked, every salt and pepper that was not centered, every chair that wasn’t pushed in properly. And then he would come home and with one sweep of the eye—you know the rest.
Perfect Melancholies usually find occupations and careers where their skills are applauded. They analyze life’s problems and fill Think Tanks. The deep, thoughtful minds and the analytical natures are positive traits, but carried to extremes they cause Perfect Melancholy to brood over problems and to be constantly evaluating everyone else’s performance. Under the watchful eye of Perfect Melancholy, others may become nervous and edgy.
Serious and Purposeful
Perfect Melancholies are serious people who set long-range goals and want to do only what has eternal purpose. Unfortunately, they usually marry those who love the fun and fluff of life and then are depressed over the trivia that excites their mates.
When our daughter Lauren was first married, she and I went shopping for houses. We didn’t really care if we found one right off; it was such fun looking. Each one had at least a few major flaws, and by midafternoon I could hardly wait to tell Fred about the terrible structures we’d seen. I marched into his business office and sat down to regale him with the colorful stories I’d collected that very day. As I went on and on with fascinating details, Fred asked the fateful question designed to cut to the heart of the matter and bring my trivia to a stop: “Did Lauren buy a house?”
I didn’t want to answer that because I would no longer be able, in good conscience, to continue my account.
“Well . . .”
“Did they buy a house?”
“No, but . . .”
“No, ‘no buts.’ I do not have time in my busy day to hear lengthy descriptions of all the houses they did not buy.”
I went home, realizing a Perfect Melancholy doesn’t need to hear an hour of trivia when the simple truth is no.
Genius—Intellect
Aristotle said, “All men of Genius are of Melancholy temperament.” The writers, artists, and musicians are usually Perfect Melancholies because they are born with genius potential that, properly motivated and cultivated, will produce giants. Michelangelo was undoubtedly a Perfect Melancholy, although he is no longer around to take one of our tests.
Before he carved his classic statues of Moses, David, and the Pieta, he made an intensive study of the human body. He went to the morgues and personally cut up the cadavers to study the muscles and sinews. Because he went deeper into the heart of man than the average sculptor of his day, his creations have been protected and respected to
this day.
Had I been led to carve a statue, I would have hacked the marble with vigor and quickly chipped away everything that didn’t look like David. With luck, my creation might have been used to fill a temporary gap in front of the Point Mugu Post Office, but the Pieta adorns Saint Peter’s Basilica today.
Michelangelo was also an architect; he wrote poetry, and he is best known for the frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican at Rome. These nine scenes from the Book of Genesis took him four years (1508-1512) to complete while lying on his back seventy feet above the ground.
Can you imagine what would have happened if Michelangelo had been a Popular Sanguine? He would have had no plan and would have started at one corner, just painting whatever came into his mind at the moment. After he had climbed up the scaffolding, he would have found he had forgotten his red paint and had to go down again. After he had been up there alone for a few days, he would have lost interest in the whole project and quit, leaving Adam with nary a fig leaf. But Michelangelo was Perfect Melancholy, and he is remembered today as one of the greatest creative geniuses of all time.
If you are Perfect Melancholy, are you doing the very best you can to develop your innate abilities?
Talented and Creative
Perfect Melancholies are the most talented and creative of them all. They may be artistic, musical, philosophical, poetic, literary. They appreciate gifted people, admire geniuses, and admit an occasional tear of emotion. They are moved by the greats of all mediums, and they marvel at the wonders of nature. They sink into symphonies and get wired on their woofers. The more Perfect Melancholy they are, the more stereo components they need.
At a recent seminar, as we divided the people into temperament groups, Fred decided to see how many of the Perfect Melancholy group were musical. He asked the leader to count up the musical people in the room and report to us all later. When the chairman came back, he said:
Our first problem was to define musical. Some of us felt it meant having musical talent, and others thought it should include those who appreciate music. We analyzed this for a while, and then decided to take two votes: one for appreciation and one for talent. I asked how many appreciated music and eighteen raised their hands. As I went to write this down, one young man asked, “Do you have to appreciate classical music or could you like contemporary?” There was no meeting of the minds on this, so we took two more counts: those who appreciated classical music and those who liked anything.
Then we went back to the other part, and I asked how many had musical talent. Fifteen raised their hands, but we were interrupted by a lady who asked, “Do you have to play an instrument now? I used to play the clarinet in high school.” Intense discussion followed, as we tried to determine the proper answer. No sooner had we decided to take another count, those who used to play and those who do now, when a man asked, “What if you’re going to start piano lessons tomorrow?” At that our time was up, and I resigned!
Had we given this assignment to a group of Popular Sanguines, they would have forgotten the question. A Powerful Choleric chairman would have asked, “How many of you guys are musical?” and quickly counted the hands. The Peaceful Phlegmatic would have said, “What difference does it make?” Only Perfect Melancholies could take fifteen minutes defining music and come up with a five-part report.
Likes Lists, Charts, Graphs, and Figures
All of us make lists once in a while but to Perfect Melancholy the use of lists, charts, and graphs is an important part of life. Perfect Melancholy minds think in such an orderly fashion that they see figures when Popular Sanguines see people; they think in columns when Popular Sanguines think in events.
Vivian told me she loves charts and graphs and thinks everyone would love them if they only understood them. She spends time explaining the theory behind them to others and can’t understand that some just don’t get interested. Once she heard about the temperaments, she began to see why three-fourths of the people didn’t get too excited over the best of graphs and the most colorful of charts.
While getting organized would help everyone achieve a higher level, for Perfect Melancholy it is the basic essential of life. Fred carries in his shirt pocket a packet of three-by-five-inch cards to keep himself in line. These cards are updated daily and crossed off when specific chores are completed. He also carries, clipped to the same pocket, six different types of pens. In his jacket pocket he adds three pencils and a pen with a built-in flashlight, which has come in handy for reading menus in dimly lit restaurants or finding dropped items in dark theaters. In his pants’ right front pocket he always has a penknife and his change, and in his front left, a nail clipper. The handkerchief is in the right rear and his wallet is in the left rear. When he sets out in the morning, he is prepared, though bulgy.
Barbara from Detroit told me she put on a “perfect home wedding” for her daughter. She spent months charting out the whole production and had typed instructions for every member of the family, explaining their personal responsibilities. She taped the doorbell, so no one could ring it, and put a sign on the door: WEDDING IN PROGRESS. She unplugged all the phones and posted a detailed time chart for the head usher. Among other duties, he was to turn off the air conditioner on the first note of the wedding march, so the fans would not make a distracting noise. At the top of the winding staircase, Barbara tacked up the last instruction for the bride, a big sign that said SMILE!
Detail Conscious
Many of the little things in life that I don’t even note are very important to Perfect Melancholies. Take the toilet paper for example. I used to put it on the roller whatever way it happened to go, until Fred pointed out I was doing it wrong. “What do you mean wrong?” I countered. “It’s stayed up there, hasn’t it?”
He sighed, “Yes, it’s stayed up but it’s on wrong. You have it backward.” Even staring, I couldn’t see how toilet paper could be backward, but he showed me that the paper should come off the front of the roll—not hang down the back against the wall where you would have to go hunting for it. I didn’t think you had to hunt far, but I agreed to do it his way and worked at remembering.
Years later, when printed toilet paper came out, Fred was so excited to show me how the little flowers blossom correctly if you put the roll on right, but are looking face-to-face with the tiles if you put it on backward. I had to agree he made sense, and he felt vindicated. Now when I go into a home and the paper’s on wrong, I feel compelled to take it off and reverse it.
When Fred shares this example at our seminars, I am always amazed at the number of Perfect Melancholies who come up and thank him for making it clear to their mates that there is only one right way to hang up toilet paper.
Perfect Melancholies are experts at keeping track of details, so they make excellent traveling companions for Popular Sanguines, because they are able to hang on to airline tickets, not lose the luggage, and even remember what gate the man mentioned.
Perfect Melancholies are assets on committees because they ask questions about details overlooked by Popular Sanguines, such as Can we afford this project? How much will it cost to rent the hall? How many people do you think will come? How much are you going to charge? Is there a demand for this activity? Do you realize the dates you’ve chosen are on
Easter weekend? Without Perfect Melancholy balance, many committees would go wild with enthusiasm without counting the cost.
Orderly and Organized
While Popular Sanguine is seeking fun in life, Perfect Melancholy is in pursuit of order. Popular Sanguines can function in a messy kitchen or work on a cluttered desk, but Perfect Melancholies must have things organized, or they can’t function.
A young girl told me she was helping a lady clean her house as an after-school job. She finished her work and returned all the bottles to the cabinet. As she turned to leave, the lady called her back to tell her she had not put things away properly. The girl gasped as the lady showed her circles drawn on the shelf paper to indicat
e exactly where each can or bottle went—round for Ajax, oval for Windex, rectangle for detergent, big round for bleach. She placed everything on its own space and said, “When you keep things in perfect order, you can always put your hands on them quickly.”
Perfect Melancholies love organized, orderly closets. Fred has sections for short-sleeved shirts, knit shirts, and dress shirts. His pants each have their own hanger and their own belt, so he will never pull two pants off while reaching for one, or have to hunt for the appropriate belt in a hurry. His jackets and pants are hung in rotating order. When he takes them off at night, they go on the left side of their section, and the next day he chooses from the right. This system ensures variety of style and evenness of wear. His shoes are in neat rows on the closet floor, and he does a thorough polishing job on them all once a month.
When we were first married I would fold Fred’s laundry Popular Sanguine style and felt if it fit in and you could still shut the drawer, you had a victory. One day Fred said, “I appreciate your doing my laundry, but I wish you’d leave it all out on the dresser and let me put it away.” When I asked my frequent question, “What am I doing wrong?” he showed me how I rolled up his socks and just threw them in the drawer. He then folded each sock correctly in half and piled them with the heels heading in the same direction. By the time he finished this arrangement, the contents of his drawers fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
In almost forty years I’ve never quite mastered the Perfect Melancholy art of fastidious folding and am rather fascinated with a rollicking romp through a stuffed drawer where the joy of discovery is half the fun!
Personality Plus: How to Understand Others by Understanding Yourself Page 4
