The Decline of Accountability and the Death of Intrinsic Motivation

The Decline of Accountability and the Death of Intrinsic Motivation

Today’s post is a rant.
Not a playful sigh or a passive-aggressive PSA.
A full-throated scream into the void about how society has apparently decided that giving a single shit is optional.
We’ve reached a point where basic human function — courtesy, effort, awareness — feels like a lost art.
This isn’t about one specific offense. It’s about the slow, steady death of intrinsic motivation.
And I’ve seen enough to start taking notes.

I’m not a prude. I’m not a clean freak. I’m not anything near what some people might call OCD, but holy hell — at what point did “put your trash in the trash can” become an unreasonable ask?

I watched someone set an empty coffee cup on top of a garbage bin. Not near it. Not beside it. Directly on top.
The lid was open. The can was empty. They had full motor function.
And yet — they bailed.
Apparently, completing the last step of the journey — you know, actually lifting the lid and using the trash can — was asking too much.

This wasn’t a one-off. It’s a pattern. A plague.
An ongoing display of chore-dodging so advanced it deserves its own museum wing.
When the trash can fills up, people don’t empty it.
They stack things on top — containers, napkins, entire takeout bags — carefully balanced like they’re trying to summit Mount Avoidance.
No one compresses. No one replaces the bag. They just keep stacking, like they’re building a shrine to the gods of Not My Job.
It’s not just laziness — it’s Jenga of Denial.

Take the guy who parked his shopping cart diagonally across two spots in a parking lot — no cart return in sight. Except there was one, five spaces away. He looked right at it, held eye contact like it owed him money, then drove off like the cart had just aged out of his responsibility.

At work, someone nuked a frozen lasagna into oblivion and left the blast radius in place like it was a team-building exercise.
Clean it up? Nah. That’s a tomorrow problem. Or, preferably, someone else’s.

Then there’s the serial offender who stacks dirty dishes on top of the dishwasher. Not in. On top.
Like the door only opens if you answer three riddles and prove yourself worthy.

Let’s not even get into the state of shared bathrooms — except we absolutely have to.
Because somehow every surface is chaos.
Soap smeared across sinks like someone tried to exorcise a countertop.
Toilet paper strewn like spitballs in a sixth-grade lunchroom food fight.
And the throne? Let’s just say the seat’s rarely dry and never innocent — a recurring violation that suggests aim is optional and decency is dead.

And I once saw someone open a door with their sleeve after smacking it with the same hand holding a sandwich.
Buddy, the bacteria already RSVPed. Don’t bother playing it safe after the fact.

This isn’t laziness. It’s a commitment to avoidance. A full-send into the land of “not my problem.”

I’m not asking for choreographed teamwork. I’m asking for proof that basic function still exists.

If you’re old enough to finance a mattress or comment on politics online, you’re old enough to put your damn Baja Blast cup in the trash.

Diagnosis:
– End-Stage Function Avoidance
– Compulsive Trash Can Circumvention
– Advanced Denial-Based Stacking Behavior (JDBS — Jenga Denial Behavioral Syndrome™)

Treatment:
Public shaming. Gentle, but unforgiving.
Cart Abandonment Fines. Trash Avoidance Penalties.
Cookie-based positive reinforcement — because toddlers and lazy adults apparently share learning models.
Mandatory “How to Human” seminars featuring live footage of their worst offenses.

Moral:
If it’s yours, handle it.
If it’s full, empty it.
And if that’s too much to ask — the problem isn’t the task. It’s you.

#IntrinsicMotivation #TrashTowerTales #EtiquetteEviscerations #DailyDumb #PublicPestilence #SocialMalfunctions #RantModeEngaged