“If you have OCD, whatever form, there seems to be some problem with being certain about things — whether they’re safe or whether they’ve been done right.”

If lack of certainty is our common challenge, than warding off uncertainty is our common quest. For some of us battling OCD, that means scrubbing our hands to make sure they’re clean, or checking and re-checking everything around us in the name of safety. For others, the need is to arrange various items in order, or repeat actions in ritualised sequences in vain attempts at removing doubt. In a restaurant, once Johnson gets past the door, she often needs to try out a few tables, looking for one that feels right, as a frustrated maître d’ looks on.

Personally, I am fine with tables. But I have harm obsessions, which means I am plagued by the fear that other people will be hurt by something I do, or don’t do. Seated at a less-than-sturdy table, I conjure images of fellow diners being injured should I fail to notify the management. This is called a “reporting compulsion” and before I learned to fight these urges, many a manager heard from me.

It’s what’s on top of the table, and precisely where, that really matters, says my friend Matt Solomon, a 39-year-old lawyer in Fort Worth with order compulsions. To enjoy a meal he needs to separate the salt and pepper shakers and ideally, place a napkin holder or other divider midway between them.

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