I don’t drink and drive. Ever.
And I go to extreme lengths not to do so. For example, if I am going to the symphony and I think I may want to have a single glass of white wine at intermission, I will either:
- Arrange for a town car
- Take a taxi or Uber (both ways)
- Spend the night in a downtown hotel within walking distance of the symphony
- Walk home
- Not go.
I have no exceptions to this. It’s a one 100% rule.
Now granted, I don’t drink a lot—a total of about four glasses of white wine per year and perhaps a total of three beers a year. (After getting married over a decade ago, I seemed to lose all of my tolerance for alcohol, where even one glass of wine will result in a hangover the next day). I also know that at my weight as a male, it would be nearly impossible for one glass of wine to result in a legally elevated blood alcohol level.
But despite this, even one glass of wine will result in a small level of impairment—which may result in me making a driving mistake—and this is something I have chosen not to accept. My “never have even a single drink and then drive” rule is a 100% risk reduction rule, and it gives me great peace of mind.
So what’s the problem with this?
Well, it becomes a problem when I consider applying a 100% risk reduction rule to areas of my life that maybe I shouldn’t.
For example, I endeavor to have a 100% social media risk reduction rule to never discuss politics on Twitter. It’s not because I don’t have strong, well-formed, political opinions. I do. Instead, it’s because I feel the downside risk of engaging strangers on Twitter is much higher than any miniscule benefit of making a dent in the political debate. My personal risk is high—the upside to society is non-existent.
100% risk reduction can give peace of mind, but if applied to the wrong domain, it can take away an entire dimension of my life.