Washington Healthplanfinder FAIL

When automatic payments go seriously wrong.

I usually get email while traveling and generally keep up with anything important. Although I wasn’t surprised to get an email from Washington Healthplanfinder, my health insurance agent here in Washington State, to say that my monthly payment had been automatically withdrawn from my account, I was surprised at the amount:

Withdrawal Confirmation

Note the amount: $1,116.15. My monthly premium is $375.14.

I immediately called Washington Healthcarefinder. After pressing numbers to navigate through four different menus — just to ask a billing question — and waiting five minutes on hold, a typical script-reading customer service representative answered. I told her about the problem. After asking for various information to assure I was who I said I was, she read a script that told me that emails had gone out in error. She asked if my bank had processed the withdrawal.

I admitted I hadn’t checked, and whipped out my iPad to check with my bank’s app while she was still on the phone. The transaction had not been processed.

She read another script that assured me that it wouldn’t be processed. That it was just the email that was an error. I suggested that if this was a widespread problem that an email should go out to notify subscribers of the error. She didn’t have a script for that so she didn’t have anything to say. I hung up.

Two days later, on Wednesday, I got an email from my bank confirming a withdrawal from Washington Healthcare Finder:

Withdrawal Confirmation

Note the amount: $1,116.15.

I just about went ballistic. I called the bank to have the charge reversed and was told that I’d have to fill out a series of forms to get the process started.

Washington Healthcare Finder’s offices were still closed that early, but later in the day, I managed to get yet another idiotic, script-reading customer service representative on the phone. I was not kind, especially when her script informed me that the process could take several days while their accounting department researched the problem. There was lots of time wasted on hold, which further pissed me off. When she got back on the phone, I told her that their error had cost me more than an hour of my time with two calls to them and one to my bank. I asked if I would be getting compensated for my time. She said they wouldn’t compensate me for my time, but they’d “compensate me for the overcharge.”

“That’s not compensation,” I roared over the phone. “That’s a refund for your freaking error!”

Because she obviously didn’t understand the difference, she had nothing to say. I hung up.

But not before I demanded that she turn off automatic payments for my account.

Later yesterday morning — yes, two days after the initial email about the incorrect amount went out, I got this:

Notice of Error

Is there any way they could have screwed this up more?

I’m fortunate in that I had enough money in my account to cover this unexpected withdrawal. Other people who routinely carry smaller checking account balances would likely bounce checks to other payees, setting up a nighmarish experience of explaining the problem for every bounced check and getting overdraft fees reversed. Hours of a person’s time could be wasted on this.

I recently set up automatic withdrawals for a number of organizations I do business with. It should make it easy to pay on time without any additional effort. But I’m going to re-think that strategy and make my payments through my bank’s billpay feature. This puts absolute control in my hands and would certainly prevent something like this from happening again.

Toggling the Religion Switch

Hypocrisy and cafeteria-style belief systems.

Bible Quote
The way I read this is that you should stay humble and let God do the worrying. When God feels like it, He might make things better for you. Because He cares. Is that an accurate interpretation?

The other day, a friend of mine went into “Bible mode” on Facebook. He’s done this before, not long after I met him at a Meetup outing. I didn’t know him well back then and I just assumed he was a religious person. (Although I’m an atheist, most of my friends are believers in one form or another.) Then he broke up with his long-distance girlfriend and, six months later, was living with another woman in town. Bible mode ended abruptly. But it’s back now, and rumor has it that he’s engaged to yet another woman he met online and has seen in person only twice.

Whoa. (Honestly, I can’t make this shit up.)

“Bible mode,” in case you’re wondering, is my term for when a person starts posting social media updates that either quote the Bible or refer to Bible verses. I find it odd in general — almost as if they’re advertising their belief system — but have come to expect it of certain people, such as a young earth believer and a biblical scholar I know. It sort of makes sense for these people — who obviously hold deeply ingrained religious beliefs — to refer to the Bible in their daily life. But I find it extremely odd when it’s done by someone who normally seems to have little regard for the Bible, Ten Commandments, or the moral principles set forth in the Christian denomination he purportedly follows. You know: moral rules about things like adultery, sex before marriage, and lying.

Wikipedia defines hypocrisy as:

Hypocrisy is the claim or pretense of holding beliefs, feelings, standards, qualities, opinions, behaviors, virtues, motivations, or other characteristics that one does not actually hold. It is the practice of engaging in the same behavior or activity for which one criticizes another. In moral psychology, it is the failure to follow one’s own expressed moral rules and principles.

The way I see it, if you pretend to be a devout, Bible-quoting Christian but have cheated on your wife or screwed women you aren’t married to, you are a hypocrite.

Unless, of course, you believe that Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins and therefore you can commit as many sins as you like as long as you’re sorry for them. Jesus has you covered, right?

You know, the Christian “Get Out of Jail Free card.”

This particular person’s flicking of the religion switch bothers me a lot and I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve seen the pattern — he turns on Bible mode when he’s hanging around a certain group of people. I’m thinking that he’s toggling the religion switch to the ON position to better fit in with these people. You know — to show that he’s a card-carrying member of their club.

Whatever.

I think it’s a shame that people have to pretend to be someone they’re not just to maintain certain friendships. If you can’t be true to yourself, you can’t be true to anyone. Who wants to live a lie?

Of course, maybe he really has “gotten religion” again. And maybe he’ll keep it this time. Turn over a new leaf. Get married, stay faithful to his new wife, attend church weekly, raise more children, and study the Bible with his family. Maybe the verses he’s quoting from the Bible will actually guide his life. Maybe he’ll remember and hold sacred all ten of the Commandments. Maybe he’ll be a “good Christian,” who actually follows the teachings of Jesus Christ.

Or maybe he’ll be another example of a “cafeteria-style Christian.” You know: the kind who picks and chooses from church doctrine to live his life the way he wants, no matter what his church of choice says he should do. And figures that just going to church and quoting the Bible will give him enough creds to get into heaven.

Of course, I don’t understand why we need organized religion or a book full of parables to guide our lives. George Carlin said it succinctly when he boiled down the Ten Commandments to just two. Other people have summed it up with just one: “Don’t be a dick.” Anyone who understands the difference between right and wrong should be able to live a good, morally sound life without worries about violating some church doctrine or pissing off an all-knowing God. But that’s my belief. Apparently, it isn’t widely shared in this world.

But what I’d really like to see is an end to religious and moral hypocrisy and the hiding of a person’s real self behind Bible quotes. Because seriously: who do you really think you’re fooling?

Communication Failure

Someone’s communication skills need work.

This morning, while going through my email, I found two messages sent three minutes apart by the same person using the contact form on the Flying M Air website.

4:50 PM:

I have 3000 hours helicopters and airplanes. Loving opportunity to meet with someone

4:53 PM:

I have 3000 hours and helicopters and fixed wing I would love an opportunity to speak with someone.

The form offers a place for the person trying to contact me to include his name and phone number, which he did.

My questions:

  • If he wanted to talk to someone and it was within normal business hours, why didn’t he just pick up the damn phone and call? “Speaking” means either using the phone or arranging a face-to-face meeting. It doesn’t mean sending an email message. The contact form page includes both of Flying M Air’s phone numbers, right at the top under the heading “By Phone.” It seems to me that although he said he would “love an opportunity to speak to someone,” he had that opportunity then and still has it right now. In fact, anyone with a phone has that opportunity when the phone number is right there in front of their face. Maybe his phone doesn’t dial out?
  • What did he want to talk about? He’s a pilot — probably not a potential client. What would motivate me to call him? He never said what he wanted to talk about. And no, I’m not interested in calling pilots I don’t know to chat about flying and careers with them. Read this blog. Don’t you think I’m a little busy with other things? Don’t you think I’m entitled to spend my time on things that are important to me and my business?
  • By Email
    This paragraph appears right above the contact form this person used to email me.

    Did he want to talk to someone about a job? If so, he also managed to miss the Help Wanted link right above the email form. If he had clicked that, he would see that Flying M Air is not hiring pilots unless those pilots can come to Washington with a helicopter for a month starting in June to dry cherries. And if he had a helicopter, why wouldn’t he mention that?

So what am I supposed to do? He says he’d like the opportunity to speak to someone. He has it. He didn’t ask me to call. He didn’t tell me what it was about. He didn’t give me any reason to get in touch with him. I’m not even motivated to answer his email message.

And yes, I’m ranting. How could I not rant when I’m faced with such bullshit?

Pergo Pergatory

My false start on a flooring purchase.

I have been thinking about flooring for my new home for a long time. A very long time. This month was the month to finally make a decision — and a purchase.

What To Buy?

I know what I don’t want:

  • Carpet. I hate it. ‘Nuff said.
  • Tile. It’s a pain in the ass to lay and, since my subfloor is plywood, I’d have to lay hardy backer under it. So that’s an added step with an added expense. And I hate scrubbing grout.
  • Vinyl. Any kind of vinyl: sheets, tiles, etc. Yes, I know vinyl has come a long way since the 1980s when it looked like cheap crap or the inside of a school, but I just can’t wrap my brain around living in a place with vinyl floors.

I know I wanted my floors to either be wood or look like wood and be durable enough to last 15 years or more without any problems at all. I also wanted it to feel like wood — you know, that textured feeling that wood sheets can have? That left hardwood, bamboo, laminates, and something engineered, like Pergo. These were all available with snap-together installation to create a “floating floor.” No nails or glue. Wood-like planks simply fit together over padding to create a floor. Lots of my friends had gone with one of these options and they all raved about what they’d chosen. Seemed to be a safe bet.

But which to choose?

I had a budget for the floor, which was determined not only by my available cash but the simple fact that I was building a living space over a garage and spending $6/square foot for flooring was an investment I’d never get a return on. That pretty much knocked hardwood and bamboo out of the picture.

The great thing about being single is the fact that you can make decisions without having to argue or compromise with another person.
Of course, that also means that if you have trouble making a decision, there’s no one with a vested interest to help you.
Fortunately, I’m usually good at making decisions.

I must have looked at flooring at 10 different places, including online. (I’m sorry, but can’t imagine selecting a floor online where you can’t touch and really see what you’re getting.) Prices were all over the map, from 99¢/square foot to well over $4/square foot. To make my decision-making process easier, I decided to set my spending limit at $3/square foot including tax and padding. Then I went to Lowe’s, where I could put the purchase on my zero-balance Lowe’s credit card at 0% interest for 12 months, parked myself in front of the flooring displays, and tried to decide what to buy.

Color was a definite issue. I didn’t want the floor to clash with my kitchen cabinets. Or my red sofa. Since the cabinets are light, I figured I’d go dark. The high-ceilinged rooms with their light paint and Navajo white ceilings are big enough to support a dark floor. It would make a good contrast.

At least that’s how my reasoning went.

In the end, I choose a Pergo Max laminate with the padding already attached. It was $2.49/square foot, which was under my budget, even after adding sales tax. Because the padding was attached, I didn’t have the cost or bother of dealing with sheets of padding. The install should go easy enough, especially if I had a friend who’d recently done an install stop by and give me pointers on the first day.

Manor Hickory“Manor Hickory” is a very dark shade of brown with near-black highlights.

The color? Something called Handscraped Manor Hickory. I thought the dark highlights would look good with end tables I still needed to buy. The red sofa had looked good with black furniture and, in the back of my mind, I thought I might go with black again.

At least that’s how my reasoning went.

I did the math on how much I needed to buy: 70 boxes. I got a sales person to help me find the boxes in stock. Amazingly, they had enough for my needs. I instructed the sales folks to put 70 boxes on shrink-wrapped pallets for me. I’d pay up front, bringing one box with me for the cashier to scan, and then meet the loaders in the Lowe’s outdoor lumber yard with my truck.

I also bought a bathroom vanity and a countertop with a sink.

Bringing It Home

Truck Loaded with Pergo
There are several reasons why I have a big truck. This is one of them.

Out in the lumber yard, they loaded my truck with the two pallets of Pergo and tucked the vanity into the space between them and the fuel transfer tank I have in back. We put the countertop with sink on top of the fuel tank. Then I took out some ratchet tie-down straps and secured them in place.

The Lowe’s guys figured that each pallet weighed about 1500 pounds. I’m not sure how true that is, but if it is true, I probably had about 2 tons of stuff in the back of my truck. As I drove away, I felt the weight. But the 1-ton Ford diesel handled it well.

At home, the drywall guys were working in the bay where the truck lives. I’d already decided that I’d back it in for the night and worry about off-loading it the next day. I was having a party that night, a celebration with friends on the completion of the drywall and painting of my living space upstairs. I had lots of other stuff to do before I worried about offloading the flooring.

Later, after the drywall guys had left, when I had a minute of spare time, I went to open the garage door. Surprise, surprise! The drywall guys had made the ceiling too low in that bay — long story why — and I couldn’t get the door open more than two feet! Fortunately, there was no rain in the forecast. The truck would stay outside.

Offloading

The weather was beautiful on Saturday and I spent much of the day doing stuff outside in the yard.

I think I was secretly dreading unloading the truck. Because I didn’t have a forklift — I don’t have everything, despite what some of my friends think — I’d have to offload the truck one box of Pergo at a time. And I know from experience that no matter where I put it, I’d have to move it. (Ask me about the pavers one day, okay?) So I wanted to put it on something that could be easily moved. That meant a dolly.

I already had a home-made dolly. My bathtub was sitting on it. I needed another one.

I had a very nice pallet outside that I’d asked the drywall delivery guys to leave behind. It was definitely large enough to hold one pallet of Pergo. I figured I’d make a dolly out of that and then make another dolly out of the pallet the first pallet of Pergo was sitting on. I’d leave one dolly of Pergo down in the garage and put the other one upstairs so it would be ready for installation.

All I needed were heavy duty caster wheels.

I took my Jeep to Home Depot. Two hours later, I drove away with it full of stuff, including 8 350-pound capacity wheels and the hardware I needed to fasten them to the bottom of pallets. Those were the most heavy-duty wheels I could find. They’d have to do.

Building a Dolly
Building a dolly is as easy as attaching good wheels to the bottom of a heavy-duty pallet.

Finished Pallet Dolly
My finished pallet dolly.

Offloading Truck
I stacked the boxes of Pergo on the dolly.

On Sunday morning, I put on some music, gathered some tools and got to work. It didn’t take long to turn that pallet into a very heavy duty dolly. The wheels were great and rolled smoothly on the clean floor, which I’d hosed out the day before.

I cut open the shrink wrap on one pallet of Pergo and started offloading the boxes, one at a time, and placing them on the pallet dolly. I don’t know what they weighed — maybe 30 pounds each? Not too heavy to lift, but not light, either. The length was perfect for me to grab them from the ends. I could feel the muscles in my arms getting a good workout.

Every time I finished a layer of Pergo, I’d move the dolly around a bit to see how well it rolled. After four layers, it was definitely feeling sluggish from the weight. But I suspected it would hold the entire pallet load. Time would tell.

An Unfortunate Realization

I was almost finished offloading that first pallet — I think I’d done the first four stacks — when I realized that one of the boxes was wet on top. The truck was parked in such a way that condensation from my roof had dripped down on it. I grabbed the box and got a rag to dry it off. The water was under the plastic wrap. I needed to open it to dry it properly.

And then I got a brainstorm. Why not take this box upstairs and lay it out to get a good idea of what it might look like on the floor?

A smarter person would have done this first, before offloading 28 30-pound boxes of flooring. Just saying.

Dark Floor
I began laying out floor planks to check the color. What was I thinking? Of course it was too dark!

I brought it upstairs, dried the top piece, and set it down on the floor. It looked horrible. Way too dark.

I was in denial. It couldn’t be that bad.

Ten minutes later, the entire box was laid out in the corner of my living room. I didn’t like it. I realized that it was almost the same color as my dining table and chairs and just a tiny bit darker than my bedroom set. My furniture would blend into the floor.

I stayed in denial. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. I needed a second opinion. I called my neighbor, Kathy, who lives at the winery a half mile down the road. She was also a house painter who did a lot of decorative work. She’d have a good idea of whether it was okay. She was out pruning grape vines with her husband but promised to come in about 20 minutes, when she needed a break anyway.

She came and climbed the stairs with me. The first thing she said was, “You’re going to see all kinds of dust on that.” I’d already had that warning from other people when I mentioned wanting a dark floor and I knew she was right — it had gotten dusty just from being laid out. But I had a Roomba vacuum robot and wasn’t very concerned about that. It was the color that bothered me.

Although she didn’t seem to think it was bad, by that time I’d already decided that it was too dark. She agreed with me that if I didn’t like it now and didn’t change it, I’d regret it. I thanked her for coming and watched her drive away.

Shit. Back to square one.

Return and a New Choice

I loaded all the boxes of Pergo back onto the pallet in my truck and, since I couldn’t shrink wrap them, used the ratchet tie-downs to keep them together on the pallet. I wiped down each plank in the open box, stacked them neatly in the box, and put the box in the front of my truck. Then I loaded up Penny and drove back to Lowe’s.

Of course, I was a mile down the road when I realized I’d forgotten my cabinet sample. I made a u-turn, came home, got it, and left again. (I forget something I need about 25% of the time that I leave home and usually remember it before I hit pavement.)

One thing you have to love about Lowe’s and Home Depot is how easy they make it to return things. I brought the open box and my receipt to the counter and let them offload the truck and count the boxes while I went back to the flooring display to make a new decision.

Tidewater Oak
I ended up with Tidewater Oak.

Fortunately, a knowledgeable salesperson appeared. With her help, we narrowed it down to three options. One did not include the attached padding, so I knocked it off the list. The other was a tiny bit too light. The third one seemed just right: Tidewater Oak. Although it didn’t have that “handscraped” texture I liked, it did have some woodlike texture. And it looked just like the hardwood floor I always wished I had.

Fortunately, they didn’t have any in stock. I say “fortunately,” because I also had to pick up a special order at Home Depot and I would never fit it in the truck with the Pergo. I placed my order and was told it would arrive within a week. Then I went back to the return counter, signed a form to get a refund, and went to the cashier to pay for my special order. Done.

At nearby Home Depot, I picked up the acrylic block walls for my shower stall, a shower pan, and a new miter saw. But that’s another story.

More To Come

So that’s the story of how I almost got my flooring. Obviously, there’s more to come when the new floor arrives and I start laying it. Stay tuned.

On Having Low Expectations

For things I can’t control, anyway.

Within the past year, I came upon the realization that my expectations can determine my level of happiness. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought lately and thought I’d set down my conclusions here.

Maybe this is something that most people have already realized and I’m just slow to figure it out. (It wouldn’t be the first time I missed the forest for the trees.) But maybe not. And maybe — just maybe — the thoughts shared here might help you achieve more happiness in your life.

Expectations for Myself

Expectations Quote
I’d edit this to say “High expectations for yourself are the key to everything” or “High expectations are the key to everything.”

Throughout my life, I’ve always had high expectations for myself.

The way I see it, I’ve got two things going for me: my brains and my health. I’m white, which is helpful in today’s world, but I’m a woman, which is not — I figure that those two factors sort of cancel each other out. I’ve got a college education, but just a BBA degree — not an MBA or PhD or any sort of fancy accreditation that puts letters after my name. I come from a middle class family which is neither rich nor poor — although in the past 50+ years, I’ve experienced life on most points of the financial spectrum.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve got what it takes to succeed in life, but I don’t necessarily have anything going for me that would make it easy. I have to work — sometimes very hard — to succeed at the goals I set for myself.

Anyone who says they’ve never failed at something they’ve tried to do is either a liar or hasn’t tried to do anything difficult.

And I do — for the most part, anyway. I succeed at most things I try to do. Sometimes that success is tiny and not worth remembering; other times it’s surprisingly huge and it changes my life. It depends on what it is, of course, and how much of myself I throw into it.

To me, that’s what life is about: trying new things, setting goals, working to achieve them, moving on to the next thing.

I’ve been called a Renaissance woman by people impressed by my widely varied interests. And I’ve been called an overachiever by people jealous of my ability to do the things I’ve done.

This is who I am — this is what makes me. I don’t have kids or, at this point, a life partner to distract me from what I want to do. No one is cheering me on, but no one is holding me back, either.

I set high expectations for myself and I work hard to meet them. When I meet my expectations, I’m happy and move on. When I don’t meet them, I’m disappointed, but I either try harder or let it go and move on.

That’s me.

But this isn’t about expectations for myself. It’s about what I expect of others. Unfortunately, my expectations for myself play a major role in my expectations for others.

Expectations for Others

Because I set high expectations for myself, it made sense to set high expectations for others. After all, if I could do something I set out to do, shouldn’t others be able to do it, too?

In hindsight — which is always viewed with 20-20 vision — I realize now that I got it all wrong.

My earliest example of this was when I worked for the New York City Comptroller’s Office. At the age of 22 — I graduated from college at age 20 — I was a supervisor in the Bureau of Financial Audits with 13 people under me. Every single one of them was older — some old enough to be my mom or dad. When it came time to do employee evaluations, I used my high standards to evaluate my staff’s performance. I can’t remember how the scale worked, but it was likely 1-5 or something like that. I my mind, 5 is “perfect” or nearly so. And very few of my staff members met my idea of perfection in the various areas I had to score them on. So there were a lot of 3s and 4s but very few 5s. And, to my surprise — remember, I was only 22 — these people had a problem with their scores. One of them even went so far as to accuse me of trying to sabotage her career. I wasn’t. All I was trying to do was point out where improvement was possible.

But possible for who? Possible for me, certainly — after all, I had definite ideas of how I could do it better. But possible for the staff member? Maybe not. Maybe she was doing the absolute best she could do. Maybe it was my expectation of her capabilities that were wrong. Maybe it was my expectation of how the job should be done that was wrong.

Expectations reared their ugly head any time I had people working for me. I always expected people to do a task to my standards, whether those standards were based on quality, speed, or any other factor. Back in 2003-2004, I ran the fuel concession at Wickenburg Airport’s FBO. I had about ten people working for me. Yes, I expected my employees to arrive on time for work. Yes, I expected them to limit personal phone calls on the company phone during working hours. Yes, I expected them to know how to store a delivery of ice cream in a freezer without guidance. Yes, I expected them to do their jobs as defined, as I trained them to.

This is the reason I don’t have employees anymore. Dealing with them frustrates the hell out of me.

Expectations were definitely a contributing factor to the failure of my marriage. I expected my husband to do the things he said he was going to do. I expected him to achieve the goals he set for himself. I expected him to keep his promises to me, especially when those promises affected my life and work. I expected him to be honest and to communicate with me when he was unhappy. When he failed to meet my expectations, I was disappointed. When he failed over and over with most things I expected him to do, I became frustrated and annoyed. I didn’t enjoy my time with him and he apparently didn’t enjoy his time with me. Our marriage dragged on with bad feelings on both sides for a few years longer than it should have because I kept expecting things to get better when they simply got worse.

Low Expectations Prevent Disappointment

And that brings me to my realization: having low expectations for others prevents you from being disappointed.

Let’s look back at my airport FBO employee situation. Maybe I should have expected some employees to have trouble getting to work on time — even though they lived within 10 miles in a town with no rush hour traffic. Maybe I should have expected some employees to occasionally not show up for work at all without calling. Maybe I should have expected that some employees, when bored, will fill their time with lengthy phone calls to their spouses or kids. Maybe not everyone is smart enough to figure out that ice cream, when delivered, needs to go right into the freezer and that each bin in the freezer is set up for a specific type of ice cream so it can be put away orderly so customers can find it.

I expected my employees to be able to handle the job the way I handled it — after all, I did the same job, too. But was it fair to set my expectations of their performance as high as I set my expectations for my own performance?

Now let’s take this the next step.

Suppose I don’t expect an employee to show up on time. And sure enough, he shows up late. He has met my expectations. I’m satisfied.

And what happens when he shows up on time? Or early? He has exceeded my expectations. I’m thrilled.

Pretty simple example, huh? But you can see how this works. Just set low expectations for anything you don’t have control over. You’ll never be disappointed.

If you’re trying online dating, you need to read my take on online dating profiles. I promise you’ll get a good giggle.

Here’s an example of how I apply this in my life today. I’ve been playing around with online dating. And my apologies to friends who have managed to find a viable partner through this completely impersonal method of meeting people, but I have never seen a bigger collection of losers and liars in my life. Seriously. Half the guys look like they crawled out from under a rock and have to rely on selfies for profile photos, likely because they don’t have any friends. They describe themselves as “average” build and say they go to the gym regularly, yet their photos show an obvious couch potato with a beer belly. Most of the others are married or barely separated, shopping for some side action or their next caregiver.

Want some real examples? One guy claimed to be a pilot at the local airport; when we actually met, it turned out that he hadn’t flown in more than 15 years. Another guy claimed to be divorced, but was living in an unfurnished apartment and admitted that neither he nor his wife had filed for divorce yet. Another guy claimed he was single, then admitted that he was in a long term, long distance relationship and was exploring online dating as a “social experiment.” Another guy, when taken for a flight in my helicopter, lost his lunch. (I will never get the image of vomit on his mustache out of my mind. Needless to say, that didn’t go any further.) And this doesn’t even count the guys I’ve messaged with who haven’t been worth meeting.

Low ExpectationsI see how bad online dating is. And although some friends have made good matches this way, I don’t expect to. My expectations for online dating success are rock bottom low. In my eyes, it just isn’t going to happen. I’m so sure it’s a waste of time and money that I closed my online dating accounts.

Yet just before my Match account was closed up last week, I met not one but two possible matches. From their profiles, they look good — same interests, interesting backgrounds, right age range, not bad to look at. A person with high expectations might be very encouraged.

But I’m not. Although I hope to meet one or both of these men in person — we’re in touch via email and text right now — I don’t expect either one to be my next life partner. My expectations for success are low. So when things don’t work out, I’m not disappointed. I never expected them work out so the result has met my expectations.

What happens if one of them turns out to be someone I do want to spend time with? And the feeling is mutual? Well, then the match has exceeded my expectations. I’m pleasantly surprised.

And if one of them happens to become my next life partner? Well, then I’m thrilled!

Low ExpectationsApparently, I’m not the first person to realize this. I did say that I sometimes don’t see the forest for the trees, didn’t I?

Get it?

  • Low expectations = seldom disappointed, often pleasantly surprised, occasionally thrilled.
  • High expectations = often disappointed, seldom pleasantly surprised or thrilled.

I don’t know about you, but when something works out better than I expected, I’m happy. So it logically follows that low expectations can lead to happiness.

It Takes Effort

After almost a lifetime of having high expectations for myself and others, it’s not easy to set the bar lower. It takes a conscious effort. Sometimes, when things don’t work out the way I expected them to, I have to remind myself that I really shouldn’t have expected it to work out right. Over time, I’m getting better at it.

And I’m really seeing a difference in how it affects my overall level of satisfaction and happiness with life.

What do you think? How have expectations — high or low — affected you?