When Gifts Become Expectations
I remember the first paid day off I ever took from work.
I thought paid time off was the coolest concept in the world.
I don't remember what I did that day, but I remember waking up late after sleeping in and thinking, I am getting paid to lay in bed.
All day I narrated my life to myself.
I am getting paid to watch TV.
I am getting paid to eat lunch with friends.
I am getting paid to sit by the pool.
I was absolutely delighted by the idea that I was getting paid while not being at work.
Fast forward twenty years.
I have far more paid time off than I did back then. More than I sometimes use in a year.
And still...
Sometimes I wish I had more.
The novelty has worn off.
I was off work last week. I slept in. Sat by the pool. Spent time with friends. And not once did I think, How cool is this? I'm getting paid to do absolutely nothing.
Now I expect it.
I think I'm due it.
That I've earned it.
That I deserve it.
Somewhere along the way, a gift quietly became an expectation.
There's nothing wrong with expecting paid time off from an employer. I probably wouldn't accept a job that didn't offer it.
But I do wonder...
How much happier would I be if every paid day off still felt like that first one?
Not because I deserve it any less now.
But because somewhere between receiving it and expecting it, I stopped appreciating it.
I think we do this in so many areas of our lives.
Recently I was having coffee with a friend, and we started talking about expectations in relationships.
If I expect you to act a certain way and you do...
Well, congratulations. You met the expectation.
You don't get appreciation.
And strangely, I don't get much joy either.
The expected has a way of becoming invisible.
I see this at work too.
As a manager, I expect my employees to show up on time.
I have one employee who gets genuinely excited every time she arrives on time. She walks in smiling, almost waiting for us to celebrate with her.
And when we don't...
You can almost watch her shoulders fall.
It makes me want to celebrate her improvement.
Sometimes I do.
And then I wonder about the employees who have quietly shown up on time every single day for years. They don't get applause because consistency eventually becomes expected.
Meeting expectations rarely earns appreciation.
Not because it isn't valuable.
Because we've stopped noticing it.
I saw a TikTok recently claiming that "real friends" like, comment on, and share all of their friends' social media posts.
Apparently there's now a checklist for friendship.
A new expectation.
One I think completely misses the point.
I don't go back through my blog analytics to see which of my friends have read my writing.
I hope they have.
Not because I'm chasing numbers or trying to become famous.
Because I hope they want to know me.
But if I started keeping score...
Who read.
Who didn't.
Who commented.
Who forgot.
I would steal my own joy.
The friends who showed up wouldn't feel like gifts anymore because I expected them to.
Instead, friendship would become a scoreboard.
And scoreboards have never made anyone feel loved.
I still believe there are healthy expectations.
I expect respect.
Kindness.
Honesty.
Effort.
Those aren't unreasonable.
But somewhere along the way we've started expecting perfection from imperfect people.
Immediate replies.
Constant communication.
Never forgetting.
Never disappointing us.
Always understanding.
Always agreeing.
Reading our minds.
Supporting every post.
Being available whenever we need them.
And then we're surprised when we're disappointed.
Maybe the answer isn't lowering our standards.
Maybe it's remembering the difference between boundaries and entitlement.
Respect is a boundary.
Being treated with kindness is a boundary.
Expecting another imperfect human being to constantly reassure me, anticipate my needs, and never let me down...
That's something different.
I've realized I don't want to live that way.
Because every expectation I unnecessarily place on someone else is one more opportunity to miss seeing the gift they actually gave me.
