Wayne's World: Monkey See, Monkey Do

I love bananas and probably eat at least one per day. I add them to my oatmeal or blend them up in smoothies. I also like to eat them with peanut butter.

My wife insists buying organic bananas. In addition to not being subject to synthetic fertilizer, insecticides, and herbicides, organic bananas are also not sprayed with synthetically made ethylene gas to make them ripen more quickly. Organic bananas have to ripen naturally. So, you have to buy them with they’re pretty green.

The other day, I grabbed a banana for my morning routine. The entire bunch was a little green and I picked what I felt was the ripest one. I yanked on the stem in an attempt to pry it open, but only ended up smashing the tip of the banana. Frustrated, I tried to cut a groove into the stem with my fingernail. Didn’t help. I reached for the drawer to grab a knife—and then I remembered, “Wait! I’m doing it wrong. I know better!”

My mind flashed back to a video I saw years ago on how to properly open a banana. The right way to open a banana is to open it like a professional—like a Monkey! Who would know better than a monkey, right?

Monkeys, I’m told, don’t open the banana from the stem, but from the other side. The person on the video showed how easy it was to pinch the non-stemmed end of the banana and then peel it open. It’s actually pretty simple and works great! It should be a case of monkey see, monkey do. Whatever that means.

The phrase, “monkey see monkey do” is a phrase we incorporate into our vernacular from time to time. Generally, it’s in reference to someone who mimics another person. For example, if a six-year-old stands on the chair to reach the cereal in the pantry and your four-year-old tries to do the same thing, you might say, “Well, look, monkey see, monkey do” and then, probably laugh.

But the phrase didn’t start out as a laughing matter. Wikipedia suggests that the phrase, monkey see, monkey do, is a West African folklore from Mali where a hat salesman, attempting to sell his stock of hats, decides to take a nap under a shady tree and places his box of hats on the ground.

During his restful slumber, ornery monkeys come in and steal his hats in order to play with them. They toss them back and forth and try them on, etc. Upon awakening, the salesman is startled and infuriated that the monkeys have captured his hats and source of income. In anger, he gestures with his hands and screams. The playful monkeys, in turn, mimic him and gesture and scream back.

The salesman feels as if he’s being mocked and, in desperation, stamps his foot and throws his hat to the ground. The mimicking monkeys do the same. The salesman, seizing the opportunity, collects his hats and departs. Hence, monkey see, monkey do. The winner in the story is the salesman. His superior logic empowered him to outwit the monkeys.

So why can’t I learn this lesson? It’s one thing to forget something. What’s worse is, when I forget the same thing over and over. I learned the banana trick years ago. It was life-changing and, if you’ll pardon the pun, very a- peeling.

Unfortunately, it didn’t become a habit. I had the knowledge, but it did not transform my behavior. It seems that my default banana peeling position is from the stem. And, then from time to time, I would remind myself to open it properly—like the monkey. So, why do I have to keep relearning this lesson? Is it my age? Is my brain reacting negatively to the missing insecticides and herbicides? The Curious George in me needed to know.

I think it comes down to two things. First, the payoff. Researchers suggest that it’s easier to keep doing a bad or potentially destructive habit because there is an immediate payoff.

For example, some potentially harmful habits cause the brain to emit the neurotransmitter dopamine that gives you that “aahh” feeling. As Pink Floyd would suggest, we’ve become “comfortably numb.” The payoff is immediate, and we enjoy it. Opening a banana gives me no such thrill. Perhaps, if it were a timed, Olympic event, that might help.

The second problem is tradition. All of us like tradition because it provides comfort. We are all creatures of habit and like doing the same things over and over. We get stuck in a rut. The 7 last words of a traditionalist are, “We’ve never done it that way before.”

My wife’s and my eating habits are different, but we feel comfortable in the way we do it. Both of us are stuck in a rut. My wife likes to eat one thing at a time until it’s completely consumed.

For decades, I have tried to convince her of the error of her ways and tried to get her to come to a more reasonable and sensible conclusion and eat like me. She refuses and argues, “I like the way I’m doing it. I eat what I like best and then move on to the next item. If I get full, I’ve eaten what I wanted the most.”

Although a sensible argument, it lacks spontaneity and zest. It’s boring. In contrast, I like to alternate my food from one thing to another—taking a well-rounded approach. I eat in unpredictable patterns and kind of go with the flow. Each bite is different. There are no predictable patterns.

I also like to mix my foods. For example, I love to stab a piece of meat, use it to scoop some mashed potatoes, and them dip them into my pile of corn. Another potential Olympic event.

Strangely, my wife finds my approach somewhat animalistic and barbaric. So, what happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force? They have dinner together. But, both of us find great comfort in our tradition. Neither of us are willing to change.

But, back to bananas, trying to remember to properly peel a banana should not be overly difficult. I simply have to find a way to find the immediate payoff and break out of the routine. Or, do I? Maybe my default is by design.

Maybe, over time, humans have observed these primates peeling peculiarities and decided we could do better. We know, we just like the way we’re doing it. After all, the stem does kind of look like a handle or even a telephone. And, remember, peeling from the bottom does require us to open it upside down. Finally, do I really want to regress backward into the food chain and accept the eating etiquette of a primate? Certainly not. Perhaps, in my desire to mimic the monkey see, monkey do mentality, I may unwillingly, become a monkey’s uncle. On second thought, maybe I’ll just have an apple.

Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Church Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech at Johnson Country Community College, and a freelance writer.