Have you ever asked for exactly what you wanted and still ended up disappointed?
This morning, I headed out for breakfast and stopped at a coffee shop. I ordered a sandwich and a coffee with milk without giving the milk a second thought.
A few minutes later, my order arrived.
The sandwich looked great. The coffee smelled good.
And next to it sat the tiniest little thimble of milk. I looked at it and thought ‘Seriously? Isn’t it obvious that this isn’t enough?‘.
For a moment, I was genuinely irritated with the waiter and the restaurant. I had ordered coffee with milk and it goes without saying that you need enough milk to actually taste it. Then I caught myself.
Obvious to whom?
I had asked for milk.
They brought me milk.
What I hadn’t told them was how much I wanted.
In my head, the request had been perfectly clear because I knew exactly what “milk with my coffee” meant. I just assumed they did too.
When “Normal” Is Really Just What We’re Used To
One of the things I enjoy about travel is discovering how differently ordinary things can be done.
Breakfast. Coffee. Meal times. Greetings. How long people sit at a restaurant. What counts as good service. Yet even when we know we’re in another country, it’s surprisingly easy to carry our own definition of “normal” with us.
I certainly did with my coffee.
I didn’t ask how milk was normally served here. I didn’t specify how much I wanted. I simply ordered milk and assumed that what arrived would look like what I was accustomed to.
And when it didn’t, my first reaction wasn’t, Oh, that’s interesting. It was, That’s not enough. The waiter hadn’t violated some universal rule of coffee. He had violated a rule that existed entirely in my head.
Sitting there looking at that tiny container, I realized how often we do exactly the same thing when the stakes are much higher than breakfast.
We Carry Our Definitions With Us
Have you ever asked for exactly what you wanted and still ended up disappointed?
This morning, I headed out for breakfast and stopped at a coffee shop. I ordered a sandwich and a coffee with milk without giving the milk a second thought.
A few minutes later, my order arrived. The sandwich looked great. The coffee smelled good.
And next to it sat the tiniest little thimble of milk.
I looked at it and thought “Seriously? Isn’t it obvious that this isn’t enough?
For a moment, I was genuinely irritated with the waiter and the restaurant. I had ordered coffee with milk. Surely they knew that meant enough milk actually to taste it.
Then I caught myself. Obvious to whom?
I had asked for milk. They brought me milk. What I hadn’t told them was how much I wanted.
In my head, the request had been perfectly clear because I knew exactly what “milk with my coffee” meant. I just assumed they did too.
When “Normal” Is Really Just What We’re Used To
One of the things I enjoy about travel is discovering how differently ordinary things can be done.
Breakfast. Coffee. Meal times. Greetings. How long people sit at a restaurant. What counts as good service.
Yet even when we know we’re in another country, it’s surprisingly easy to carry our own definition of “normal” with us.
I certainly did with my coffee.
I didn’t ask how milk was normally served here. I didn’t specify how much I wanted. I simply ordered milk and assumed that what arrived would look like what I was accustomed to.
And when it didn’t, my first reaction wasn’t, Oh, that’s interesting.
It was, That’s not enough.
The waiter hadn’t violated some universal rule of coffee.
He had violated a rule that existed entirely in my head.
Sitting there looking at that tiny container, I realized how often we do exactly the same thing when the stakes are much higher than breakfast.
We Carry Our Definitions With Us
We ask for a better relationship and assume “better” means the same thing to the other person that it means to us.
Maybe better means more affection to you. To your partner, it might mean fewer arguments. You might be longing for more conversation while they’re making an effort to give you more space.
Both people can genuinely be trying to improve the relationship and still end up disappointed. The same thing happens in business.
We say we want more clients or more money. But what does “more” mean? One additional client is more. One additional dollar is more. We know that isn’t what we mean, of course. But that’s exactly the point.
We know what we mean.
The other person doesn’t necessarily know.
And when the outcome doesn’t match the picture we had in our head, it’s very easy to decide that someone else got it wrong.
Why didn’t they understand?
Why do I have to explain this?
Shouldn’t they know?
Maybe.
But sometimes they understood exactly what we said. We simply didn’t say what we meant.
Why Being Specific Can Feel Surprisingly Difficult
You would think the solution would be simple: just ask more clearly. But being specific requires us to know what we actually want.
“I need more support” is easy to say. ➽ “I need you to take responsibility for dinner two evenings a week without asking me what we’re having” is different.
“I want our relationship to be better” leaves plenty of room. ➽ “I miss talking to you. I’d like us to have dinner together once a week without our phones” requires us to put something real on the table.
This also happens in business when we tell ourselves and others, “ I want to grow. Sounds good – but isn’t helpful. Deciding that growth means five new clients, a specific revenue goal, or working one fewer day each week forces us to define what success actually looks like.
That clarity can feel vulnerable.
Once we say what we really want, the other person can respond to it. They can agree. They can disagree. They can tell us what they need too.
But at least everyone is finally having the same conversation.
Sometimes We Get Exactly What We Asked For
By the time I finished breakfast, I wasn’t annoyed anymore.
If anything, the whole thing made me laugh. I had asked for milk. I got milk.
The disappointment came from everything I had added to that request without ever saying a word.
And that is one of the reasons I enjoy traveling so much. Of course I love seeing new places, trying different foods, and experiencing another culture. But some of my favorite discoveries are much smaller. They’re the moments when something ordinary happens differently enough to make me notice something I normally wouldn’t.
This morning, it was a ridiculously tiny serving of milk. Next time, I’ll simply ask for more.
That part is easy.
The more interesting question is where else I might be expecting someone to understand something I’ve never actually said.
Where in your life do you need to be a little clearer about what you really mean?
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