A Simple Look at What I Expect

by Cylithria Dubois

"But it's not just any remote control, Babe, this one is a Universal Remote. It can be programmed to control any remote-controlled device in our home theatre system!"

Those were the magic words I heard as I sat on my thirtieth birthday staring down at a box that held one monstrosity of a remote control. He who delivered the clarifying statement about my gift was my then significant other.

I glanced to the TV, VCR and satellite receiver box perched precariously on a small TV cart and wondered to myself, Is that a Home Theatre System, and is this gift something I need for around the house? This must be a mistake!

Yep, I had made a terrible mistake. When my significant other asked me what I wanted for my birthday I answered airily, "Oh, I'm not too big on gifts ... why not something that could be used around the house?"

I'm still not sure what I expected he would give me, but I can promise you it wasn't anything like the super-duper, handy-dandy, battery-life-sucking remote control I received. Especially when I did not watch TV, ever! I chalk that birthday mistake up to being young and dumb. After all I was just turning thirty. But receiving such an unexpected gift led me to examine my ideas about expectations.

Until that moment, I'd always thought of myself as a non-expectant type of gal. As I stared at the remote control that was too big to fit in my hand, I realized that Heck, yes, I had expectations! No reason now to deny it.

Expectations. The word conjures up images of things yet acquired, goals yet reached and dreams yet attained. It also brings to mind the things/peoples/events in life that haven't lived up to your expectations. I think it's safe to say that expectations are subjective and very individual. One person's expectations may not be at all the same as another's.

My childhood mentor often told me, "Cyli Girl, if you set expectations, expect to be disappointed." During my tender youth I chuckled such a saying away. Now I know there are no truer words and I try to keep my expectations to a minimum. It keeps the disappointments down. But there are some expectations I simply can't let go.

For example, when in a grocery store I expect people to drive their shopping carts like a five-year-old driving his first bicycle, all over the place and without much control. I also expect to get nasty looks from the cart drivers when I casually reach over and move the carts they have haphazardly parked and abandoned in the center of the aisle.

In parking garages, I fully expect to drive through the first level and find no parking spots. I also expect that as I make the turn to drive deeper and deeper into the garage, someone will back out of a parking spot behind me and tailgate me so closely that I can't put my car in reverse and take the now-empty slot.

During Girl Scout Cookie Season I expect the speech I give myself as soon as I see these young girls pimping their delicious cookies: "Cyli, you will not cave into these girls. You've purchased five boxes each from the last seven troops of girl scouts. You do NOT need anymore of those evil Mint Cookies!" Of course as I walk toward the table of cookies located near the door of the store I am about to enter, I try to brace my resolve. But I know me, and instantly my expectations change. I expect that not only will I stop and buy cookies from a set of pleading eyes, I'll buy seven boxes instead of my normal five because I will feel guilty for using the words "pimping" and "young girls" in reference to Girl Scouts and their Cookies.

Whenever I am sick and in need of serious rest, I fully expect my friends to suddenly and psychically know they should check on me, thus making my phone ring. During the first few calls I shall chat politely for a few minutes, but as the calls increase and my patience dwindles, I expect to suddenly rip the phone cord out of the wall. I also expect that the adrenaline rush of such a violent act will keep me from sleep and since my phone jack is destroyed, I'll have to sit and talk to myself.

At the movies, I expect every rude, indecent, tongue-sucking teenage couple to sit in my vicinity. As I try desperately to watch the movie, I expect to be interrupted by the moans of pleasure and the slurping sounds of them sucking face. By the time the movie is over I fully expect to be disgusted by these displays of young love. I also expect to be bitter. I was never one of the girls who would suck face in a theatre. I was always a "good girl."

At railroad crossings I fully expect the oncoming train to be as long as the east-west route through Montana. Not only do I expect it to be long, I expect it to be as slow as molasses in January. I didn't need to get to the bank anyway, right?

I always expect my cat to puke up a hairball on my freshly-washed comforter. I'd be thoroughly disappointed if a bird did not crap on my car immediately after I've washed it but while I am still drying it, and my expectations that I'll always be stuck behind stupid, idiotic drivers never go unmet.

Oh yes, I have expectations. Who doesn't, right?