Beware of Expectations
For the dedicated reader, you will recall that I had a run-in with unknown expectations that ended a 20-year friendship. I would prefer to blame it on language barriers, but I am starting to see that it may, in fact, be a cultural difference. In the past couple months, I have been witness or the recipient of unspoken expectations here in Germany. Here are those stories:
Best Friends
First, a lighter story that takes place in a restaurant on the north end of town; the front door had been locked hours ago and the external lights extinguished. Five guys, working-class men, huddle around a table near the bar. The other five tables have been cleaned and prepared for the next afternoon’s lunch. What proceeds is a pissing-match of sorts; the theme is what one would do for one’s best friend.
The first volley consists of a harmless and an easily agreeable claim that this man would stick by his best friend through a difficult time and assist however necessary. As a spectator, I mentally shrug in order to acknowledge the obviousness of the proposal. Two others verbally back the claim and the fourth sips his beer. He has folded and will be observing as the hand is played out.
The second man raises the bet and claims that any amount of money requested would be lent with no questions asked. He tells of a backstory in which his finances were in dire straights and required a large loan for a short time frame; his friend provided without questioning its need. I am skeptical; this seems like a tall order, especially concerning the lack of knowing its use. I am quickly able to think of a number of uses in which I would be a better friend to provide financial guidance rather than continued flow. The two others remain playing.
The third man attempts the clichéd answering-a-call-in-the-middle-of-the-night and subsequent rush-to-his-side bit. The others clarify the extent to which they would respond, the distance they would be willing to travel, and the hours at which this option is available. My BS alarm sounds in my head as I consider the practicality of their proposals. I realistically would make sure my buddy got home safely, was well-hydrated, and was in no danger of asphyxiating, but I strongly feel that that would complete my charge. Any additional concerns, heartaches, or stresses can always wait until morning. I would gladly introduce him to journaling.
It is during this heated agreement of the lengths one must go to in order to provide the necessary level of care for one’s best friend that I realize that these guys are actually laying out their expectations that they would then demand of their best friends. I panic; one of the three has hinted that I am currently in consideration to be added to his inner-circle. What if I am upgraded to one of his best friends? Would have the empathy, funds and coffee to fulfill that role?
The match comes to an end as the pot is full. (Yes, it is unclear which metaphor that pertains to.) The men congratulate each other on their benevolence. I down my beer and hope that they never have the need to fulfill their boasts. And I hope that their best friends never have to face the disappointment of not living up to these expectations.
This barn has no expectations of you.
A Body in Tap Shoes
In a recent Adventure post, I shared the highlights of a recent performance of a tap group of which I was a part. The rehearsals leading up to the three man show were quite trying. After confronting the choreographer for shrugging off my questions, I was told that he was expediting our process by making sure the other guy knew it first and then we would all perfect it later. Letting my ego take one for the team, I relinquished my concerns.
However, a short time later, I found myself left to one side of the room as the two others forged ahead on a number. I was near my water bottle and other belongings; the door called to me. I cannot say why I did not leave right then; I felt humiliated and unnecessary. I chose, however, to stay and help to pack things up. When asked about how the rehearsal went, my frustrations shone. I was to be merely the third guy in tap shoes. My ego was not up for that role.
We took a pause and set up some time in the coming week; I prepared to use my crucial accountability talking points, the ones I had used when confronting underachieving analysts. However, I will be not only translating my concerns into another language, but I have to also be aware of intonations, cultural directness and the idea of blame.
In consulting with the locals, each one was adamant in being direct and placing the blame. However, my experience (in the US) is that pointing fingers is never helpful; there are zero benefits. I attempt to beef up my vocabulary and head to the chosen bar.
The first two hours, we talk about everything but the incident. The conversation ranges from possible career paths to travel. He graciously pays the bill, and I ask if now would be a good time to talk about what happened. He nods. As I lay out the timeline, he interjects as to having no knowledge of ignoring me. I help him recall that conversation. He remains silent.
After discussing the latest rehearsal and the impact of his actions, I relay that I am no longer able to be a part of the group. I was not having fun, and he had often advised me that I should never continue doing something if it is not enjoyable. Rhythm tap is not always enjoyable.
He did not talk to me for over a month. Things are not back to what they were as of yet. The desired result was achieved, but the feedback was not well received.
This field has no expectations of you.
Tenor Wanted
I walked into my first music rehearsal on Tuesday; the blocking rehearsals had been cancelled due to illness. The composer, who is also the choir director, asked where I wanted to begin. I proposed some of the longer solos would make more sense. He asked the pianist to start at a certain measure and away we go. I blow the entrance, which is written to be after a sixteenth note rest after the downbeat in a 5/16 measure. I ask if it would make more sense to review the vocal part before singing to the counter-rhythm accompaniment. He cautiously asked: how much have you been practicing?
A month ago, the director of the beginners choir asked about my background in theater. I explained that I am rarely a soloist, but have a lot of experience on the stage. He then approached me about singing in his opera; he was short on tenors and needed to fill a role. I was excited for the opportunity to do something new and agreed. It is always nice being asked.
I was given the script and was surprised at the orchestration; it seemed the key signature changed each measure and the use of triplets for sixteenth and eighth notes was a bit overzealous. Additionally, I saw accidentals I have never seen before. I was curious as to how this was going to be taught…
Back to the first rehearsal. This guy is pissed that I have not fully rehearsed and memorize my part. I stand bewildered that he would have thought that I would be able to learn this music on my own without a piano. The intervals are illogical, the rhythms look like a four-year-old wanted to use each option in a composition program, and what is the logic with the time signatures? I stand my ground: We continue, but the tension is palpable.
After two long hours, he states that we need to have an emergency rehearsal the next day because we have full run-through of the entire opera on Thursday. Everyone else already knows their part as they have been rehearsing together for over a month! Ah, well, this may not turn out well.
In preparation for the emergency rehearsal, I attempt to beef up my vocabulary and head to the room. I ask the pianist to wait outside; I talk through the incongruous of our expectations. My experience has always included vocal rehearsals and additional support. I should definitely have asked more questions at the outset, but there is no way that I can learn this music – I have not had enough vocal training to handle the part. I inform him that he needs to find another solution.
He challenges me as to my knowledge of the costs already incurred; my departure at this point will be irreparable – I was already the Plan B. I mentally shrug. He demands that we compromise in making it an acting role. He will introduce me on Thursday as being solely an actor (i.e., who cannot sing). SMH.
He does concede that he could have communicated more in the month leading up to the blocking rehearsals.
The desired result was not achieved, but the feedback was well received.
I urge everyone to clarify any and all expectations from the start; no one deserves your disappointment without fair warning. Yes, it is very possible that I am particularly sensitive to people’s disappointment in me; this fact was well-utilized by my parents and teachers. Regardless, it is always a crappy feeling; use sparingly.
These soccer players are a bit disappointed in you.
Side note: I hope the reader will be open to consider that I am actually a good friend and do not quit projects lightly. I would argue that I simply know the value of my time and choose to spend it with my long-term goals in mind – other activities are for enjoyment only.
