Most people have an ideal reality.  Here in the United States, we call this, “The American Dream”.  A chicken in every pot, a car in every garage, college, new clothes, travel abroad, happy husband, happy wife.

For me, the American Dream has always seemed unattainable.  Oh, I’ve got the car, the chicken and a pretty nice house.  And I’m not talking about my marriage.  I’m talking about something more ephemeral.  I’m talking about the feeling of having reached a certain goal both personal and professional, where I walk down the street confident, comfortable and collected.

That American Dream.  The sweet feeling that I deserve the fine things that come the way of others, and not just material goods but the respect of people whom I meet.  The ability to speak without worrying that the person across from me will wince, scowl or shudder.  Rather, that they will lean my way, hear my words, share their own thoughts and feelings, and be glad for the exchange.  With me.

I’ve never had that.

As a consequence, my exchanges with people historically fall into one of two categories:  Either I am overly nice to the point of saccharine-coated syrup; or I snap pre-emptively.  Sometimes both reactions occur in the space of a single conversation.  I start out wanting to be genuinely cordial, but my fear takes over and I think, This person won’t like me.  I gravitate between gushing and grousing.  I feel as though I have completely made a fool of myself and clamp down on my urge to placate.  I walk away feeling like a total dolt.

This evening, I called to a clerk’s attention that she was about to over-charge me.  She became upset and defensive.  I kept my voice level and pointed to the sign with the price in question.  She grew shrill and insisted that despite the sign, the higher price applied.  She also could not accept my request for a paper container rather than a styrofoam one, despite the proximity of either to her reach.  A manager came upon the stymied scene, smoothed out her ruffled feathers, gave her permission to use paper for this application, and told her to charge me the price on the sign.  But, lo and behold, when I got home, tired and discouraged, I discovered she had, in fact, charged me the higher price.

Looking back on the situation, I knew exactly what I had done. I started out overly pleasant — “How was your day?  Oh thank you very much, oh no problem”.  These words dripped from my tongue.  Then, the request for the paper box came and she bristled.  My friendly tone could not withstand her youthful dedication to the script she had been given.  I succumbed to fatigue and stood my ground.  For me, the bottom line became getting the food I wanted, in a nontoxic container, at the advertised price.  Walking away with the clerk as a friend flew out the window.  I did not understand why she couldn’t do what I wanted.  Customers all around asked for variances and in no nicer tones than I.  Why couldn’t she just give me the paper container?  And charge the price on the sign above what I wanted?

Sadly, I find it hard to take myself out of these exchanges.  Essentially, I have always considered myself worthy of nothing less than abusive treatment.  But I crave better.  When I escalate a situation, it’s a sign that I resent the implication that the guy next to me asking for extra this or that has the right to do so, but I do not.  When I lay on the flattery, it’s from that deep-rooted conviction that I have to flatter to get even the most grudging of assistance.

These realizations have come hard for me.  This quest to rid my life of complaint has as its foundation the desire to treat others more honorably.  But what I am learning lies both in how I treat others, and in how I regard myself.  Distilled to its essence, complaining simply manifests my own insecurity, my own unmet need to feel important.  When I finally learn to value myself, I will be able to overlook the minor transgressions of others.  I will be able to hold steadfast in my self-acceptance, and find my center.

And then, finally, I will be living my own American Dream.