An Ode to Expectations

From MJ’s, Spider Man’s love interest, “If you expect disappointment, then you can never really be disappointed,” to my Peloton instructor’s, “Las expectativas decepcionan” (expectations disappoint).  The mantra for the 2020s is lower your expectations or throw them out completely. But if las expectativas decepcionan, it’s not because mine, or anyone else’s, are too high.

It’s because people aren’t living up to the most basic of expectations, taking the “lower the bar and keep it low” into an abyss I refuse to explore.  We can collectively give the middle finger to the strive-for-excellence-at-everything mindset (it’s exhausting being excellent at everything 24/7), but to completely lower the bar of expectations leads to a lack of civility in public and private spaces.

I belong to the generation of plastic sofa covers; of my mom reminding my brother and me, whenever we visited her friends’ homes, not to touch anything because we were guests; of her reminding us to behave when we entered a store or when we rode the subway into Manhattan (she always received compliments about how well-behaved we were); of “what will the neighbors say?” to the wrong outfit or group of friends.  To say nothing of the scholastic expectations, my role as a female, a Latina no less, in society, and my role as the child of immigrant parents.

I belonged to the world of high expectations.

I rebelled against the ones I thought pointless as a teenager, with mixed results, but I could never rebel against the idea of acting right in public or private spaces for fear of embarrassing my mom or being scolded by her, and of being consigned to the bad-immigrants group.  I learned to cultivate a balance between extremes, to cultivate a public and private persona even though they don’t differ by much.

It’s this balance that’s missing in today’s society.  No author subscribes to the idea of throwing out the rules completely, but people don’t read between the lines instead giving life to an extreme never expressed.

I spent the last three years working as a flight attendant, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.  We’ve all seen the videos capturing violent encounters, but the videos never capture dirty diapers in seat-back pockets, food covering seats and floors, men and women clipping their finger- and toenails mid-flight. What exists is a complete disregard for what’s expected of you, of the bar being lowered and kept dangerously low.

We all need to revise our expectations upward.  Extend courtesy and respect to public and private spaces, without blurring the lines; to each other. Make it a practice.  Cultivate a balance.