Try Not To Lie

In high school I had a good friend, Seth.

He was a character. He was wickedly funny but also extremely intelligent. He was artistic, thoughtful and ingenious.

And he never lied.

I learned this one day after Seth had played some prank behind our teacher’s back. When the teacher turned around he asked, “Seth, did you just do that?”

Seth replied, “Yes” and was given a week’s detention.

After class I asked Seth why he admitted to this. He replied, “I don’t lie.”

I thought that was amazing. Amazing – but stupid. I thought that telling the truth was a good idea in general, but dumb if you’d get in trouble.

**Over the next 20 years, that was how I lived my life. I usually was honest, except in cases where I felt a small lie might help me.**

I lied on job applications. I exaggerated about my skills during interviews. If invited to somewhere I didn’t want to go, I’d make up an excuse to back out of it.

These weren’t big lies. They were just embellishments, exaggerations or ways to keep the peace. It was perfectly acceptable to me.

Things changed for me in my mid 30s. My life wasn’t going so great and I didn’t like the man I had become . I quit drinking. I cleaned up my diet. I was trying to help my wife who was undergoing intensive chemotherapy. I was looking for a new job. I was in therapy.

I was determined to do better.

After 18 months working in a job I hated, I finally landed an interview somewhere else. I called a friend for advice. He said, “Try not to lie”.

I was pissed. I wanted tips on landing the job. I expected sage wisdom, not some bullshit. Who did he think he was questioning my honesty? But for some reason, his comment struck a nerve. I kept thinking about it as I prepared for the interview.

Usually before interviews I’d make notes on my resume so I could keep my story straight.

I had a story for why I left one job – instead of admitting I was fired.
I inflated the number of sales I made – instead of being accurate.
I wouldn’t even tell people we had returned to Pittsburgh because my wife was sick – instead I’d say we returned because we missed our hometown.

I’d lie about why I was interviewing, what I wanted from the job and what I could do.

This usually worked. Most of the time, I’d be hired and then just worked my ass off to deliver on the lies I had promised.

This time, I told the truth.

It was hard. I was embarrassed to admit I had been fired before. I wasn’t proud that my sales in a previous job were just average. I thought for sure that disclosing my wife’s health issues would eliminate me from consideration.

I had to pause before answering questions several times, because my initial response was an automatic lie – an excuse, a padded number, an exaggeration.

I don’t even remember if I got the job. But I do remember that I didn’t lie. Somehow, this made me feel good.

After the interview, I became acutely aware that I lied all the time.

I lied to my wife when she’d ask what I wanted for dinner. I’d say “Whatever you want” when I really wanted Mexican.
I lied to my coworkers who would invite me to a party. I’d say, “I’ll try to make it”, when I was 100% certain I wasn’t going.
I lied to my boss when he’d ask for sales were going, I’d say, “Great!”, when I had no hope that my longshot opportunities would close.

Lying had become second nature to me. I’d like to avoid conflict. I’d lie to avoid embarrassment. I’d lie to avoid the consequences of my actions.

It was shocking to realize this. Up until then, I had considered myself an honest man.

How I Stopped Lying

When I was speaking to someone, if I could catch myself before I lied, I’d pause, take a deep breath and then tell the truth.
If I had already blurted out a lie and realized it I would immediately interrupt the conversation and admit that I had just lied. I’d apologize and give the correct information.
If I realized I had lied long after I wasn’t speaking with the person or when I just didn’t have the guts to admit this when we were face-to-face, I’d call the person up and admit that I had lied earlier. I’d apologize and give the correct information.

Their responses were not what I had expected. .

People would sometimes ask, ” Why on earth would you lie about that?”

Other times they’d brush off my apology saying, “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

But many times they would actually thank me for being honest. Some even would remark that I was brave for admitting my lie.

If you want to become honest, do these three steps. After you’ve made amends for lying enough, you’ll start to catch yourself in the act and tell the truth because it’s much easier.

Over time, I started to realize the benefits of not lying.

It was so easy to keep my story straight since I only had 1 story – the truth.
I stopped feeling guilty about avoiding people and events. I’d say, I’m not coming because I don’t like big events. Or, I’d rather go home, order takeout and watch a movie with my wife.
I stopped overpromising and putting myself under tremendous pressure to deliver. Setting realistic expectations for work and my personal life even enabled me to overdeliver occasionally.
People trusted me more. Because I was honest with them, they would be honest with me. I became a better friend, coworker and manager. By not hiding from my mistakes, I was able to help a lot more people with their own.

The biggest benefit was to my own self esteem. I can hold my head higher. I can look myself in the mirror and not be ashamed.

I now very rarely lie. I try not to lie 100% of the time.

It’s a much better way to live.

You can too.