The Genies' Dictum

Once again we welcome our Genie-in-Residence to the front page, to answer your questions and edify us with his hard-won advice.

Dear Genie,
I have a son-in-law from a previous marriage, who reconnected with me in my retirement years. When he asked my wife and I for help starting his dental practice, we were glad to do it. We've done well for ourselves, and we had the money, though I'll ask if you can guess how much an x-ray machine will run you, these days? Anyway, his practice has been quite successful. He has good reviews, and a growing patient list. The trouble is, I noticed his dental license wasn't posted anywhere, and I think it's true that dentists are supposed to display their licenses. Anyway, I told him he should hang his diploma where people can see it. He told me in confidence that he's never been to dentistry school. He learned how to do it on YouTube. Well. We won't report him, because he's family, and because, as a self-taught attorney, I know how ostracized he probably feels. Still, my wife is concerned that we might get blamed if someone else reports him, since we paid for all the equipment and have our names on the business permit. Can you think of a way to convince him he ought to take some classes, before he fills too many more cavities?
Signed, Toothache-In-Law

Dear Toothache,
Hoo boy. In fact I do know the going rate for an x-ray machine. I'll make a different guess instead, which is that the phrase "I think we're gonna have to settle" must have passed your lips a great many times in your law career. The best advice I can offer you is to retain your own attorney as soon as conveniently possible, and I recommend you scrutinize their office walls. More generally, though, you bring up a subject that's worth discussing: What happens when a wisher isn't ready for their wish?

Strictly speaking, no one is ready for their wish. If a person has a vigorous, lasting desire, and they haven't yet achieved it, something remains unfinished, or is missing, or in the way. In the easiest of cases, that something is a tangible resource. A woman needs water; you dig her a nice, deep well. Other times you have institutional problems. You have a couple with a down payment, who can't get a mortgage because the bankers don't like their skin, or their collar color, or their choice in a partner or what have you. Totally straightforward: you give them the money. Come back in a decade, and they'll be happily painting their shutters. More often, though, the sticking point is found in the wisher themselves. This is to be expected. Farmers till and fertilize before they plant. Genies must prepare their wishers.

Now, some wishes are phrased as demands, or come with a ton of conditions. In those cases, I interpret the wish as an experiment. The wisher is saying, "I'd like to know what impact my lactose intolerance will have on my stint as a cheese-eating champion." I grant the wish, and let the wisher collect their data. But oftentimes the wisher includes a "mission success" clause. "Don't you be sneaky," says your would-be space man, "I want to be a 'real' astronaut. I want to accomplish something valuable, and come home safe when I'm done." Now you have a problem that can't be solved with a simple rocket ship.

This leads to what I call the Genies' Dictum: The actual wish is never the hard part. You spend most of your effort on the something else, the stone wall or the missing piece. There's a problem the wisher can't solve on their own, or doesn't see, or is scared to face. You'll need to identify that problem, and find a way around it.

You non-genies will get what I mean. If a friend of yours tells you how sincerely they want true love, what you'll say, or at least think, is, "Okay, work on —blank— and then sign up for OkCupid." OkCupid is the second step. —Blank— is the crux of the matter, even if your friend tells you that —blank— is no big deal, or is imaginary, or is you projecting your issues, or isn't their fault, or is impossible to change.

We genies are bound to finish a wish. Until —blank— is addressed, we aren't free. We learn to ferret out —blank— as soon as possible, and start with that.