The Psychology of Dexter - Bella DePaulo [37]
As such, Dexter doesn’t meet any classic psychological needs with his work. There is his psychological tie to blood, but in terms of the things we traditionally think of as motivators and contributors to self-evaluation, working at Miami Metro simply doesn’t serve a “normal” purpose for Dexter. Outside of work, though, how he feels about what he does and how Harry would feel about him do seem to matter. The code guides how he views himself and his place in the world. He spends his non-work time trying to understand and live with the pathological need to kill, and it is only with the kill that he feels like he is truly himself, at peace, doing his proper thing in the world. He’s not doing it for the world, of course—killing is deeply personal for him—but if it’s good for someone else, he doesn’t mind.
One of the interesting elements of Dexter’s development is his growing ability and willingness to connect with other people. He moved from having no relationships of note in season one (other than the ongoing and, at the beginning, fairly superficial relationship with Debra), to a developing relationship with Rita that spanned four seasons. He found and attempted to connect with individuals like Lila Tournay and Miguel Prado. The way these people viewed him did, at times, seem to matter. Their regard wasn’t something he sought through his actions at work, though. Certainly in the case of Lila and Miguel, it had more to do with their ability to understand and appreciate what he did when he left the office behind.
Compensation theory is interesting, but even in Dexter’s case it falls short of explaining the complexity of what drives us. It deals in needs, which may or may not be necessary to consider for two reasons. First, Dexter’s needs do not easily align with those that drive most of us; the code and Dexter’s Dark Passenger warp the concept of “needs” in a number of ways. Second, the needs themselves devolve quickly to a level so basic as to be potentially meaningless. Needing food, air, water, and contact are not all that interesting.
At the theoretical level, the focus becomes even more questionable. Many need-based theories have been criticized for a lack of testability, and haven’t always held up well in practice. Even here, the “needs” met by having a job are ones that could potentially be met in other ways. Having a workplace is not a requirement to keep from appearing to be a shut-in, and it’s quite the logical stretch to suggest that the only way Dexter could have put food on the table, paid rent, and looked like a “normal” member of society would have been to obtain an advanced degree in forensic science. Although it’s true that his job also provides him with resources (such as criminal databases) that make it easier for Dexter to identify code-appropriate targets to kill, the give-and-take implied by compensation theory has always felt a little like trying to fit a square peg into a Honda-shaped hole. The mere ability to create an explanation—which compensation provides—does not in any way guarantee that explanation’s completeness.
The Segmentation Model: Leaving Work at Work
If you’ve ever had a friend say, “At five o’clock, work is over. I leave it there. Once I get home, I’m all about my family,” then you’ve heard the basic logic of the segmentation theory. Segmentation theory says that people cope with competing work-life demands by keeping the two areas as separate as possible. They don’t answer work emails at home, they don’t take work calls on vacation, and they can be pretty fiercely protective of their personal time. The opposite also tends to be true; when they are at work, they are very present. They don’t talk about family, don’t allow themselves to schedule family-related obligations during work hours, and maintain high levels of professionalism at all times.
It’s an ideal world, isn’t it? One in which we can keep the two domains completely separate? I’m sure I’d like to live in that world, but I’m as guilty as anyone of answering work emails at ten, eleven, twelve o