Communicating through mismatched expectations
Too many social conflicts are really just mismatched assumptions about what sort of interaction you're having
There are many ways to fail at communication. One of the simplest is the failure to calibrate expectations about the nature of an interaction. For example:
Two people meet for a drink. One thinks they’re casual friends; the other thinks it’s a date.
The boss is friendly and likes to joke around with their team; one team member thinks this means they can relate to their boss as a peer.
One member of a relationship thinks that they’re having a conversation about his failure to pick up after himself; the other member of the relationship thinks it’s a conversation about whether he respects her time.
A group of friends are playing a board game. One member of the group thinks it’s an intense strategy game; the others just think it’s a silly way to spend some time. Or, alternatively, most of the group think it’s an intense strategy game, while one member is goofing around and ruining everyone else’s careful plans.
You can probably think of dozens of similar types of situations.
In all of these cases, there’s a failure to communicate, but it’s often a subtle failure. It’s not that one person is saying something and the other isn’t hearing it. Nor is anyone acting malevolently or intentionally disregarding anyone else’s feelings or interests. The problem is simply a mismatch of expectations.
Of course, in some of these cases, the mismatched expectations might reflect some deeper and more fundamental differences. If the board-gamers have basic attitudinal disagreements about what makes for a fun evening, that is a structural problem with their event. If the employee or boss are incapable of respecting workplace boundaries, that’s a big issue. If the boyfriend genuinely just doesn’t value his girlfriend’s time….and so on.
But quite often, the misunderstandings inherent in these situations are essentially just coordination problems. No one’s goal is to ‘maximizing my individual utility’ at the expense of others; their goal is to cultivate an enjoyable shared experience. Which means everyone would prefer to get on the same page—even if that page doesn’t perfectly match their subjective desires.
Accordingly, it follows that we would all benefit from identifying potential expectations-mismatches and addressing them before they turn into conflicts.
Kids may seem irrational, but it’s better to think of them as poor communicators
I’ve been thinking about all of this a lot recently, mostly because I have two small children. Who have excellent emotional regulation skills for their ages, but their ages are four and two, which means we have our fair share of minor conflicts throughout the day.
Quite often, those conflicts arise from a mismatch between kids’ (strong) ability to construct theories about how a particular game, interaction, or event is supposed to work and their (very weak) ability to set those expectations for others. Not only do they want to participate in making dinner; they want to hold their plastic knife in exactly this way and they want to cut the tofu here but not there and they want to see me squeeze the liquid vitamins into the spoon and if any of those things does not happen exactly as they expect, it’s a minor crisis.
Which means I’ve had a very good reason to develop the habit of asking questions before doing things. And it makes a big difference.
While it may seem like your toddler is a manic ball of irrational tantrums, it’s actually almost always true that they have a pretty coherent set of ideas ticking along under the surface. The problem isn’t that they’re irrational or incoherent; the problem is that they haven’t learned that they have to communicate their expectations. A big part of childhood development is really just learning that other people perceive the world differently, and developing tools to help you communicate across the divide.
Failure to think about others and their expectations can lead to unnecessary conflict
I was already starting to draft some thoughts on this subject when I came across a Reddit post that felt like a really helpful example. It’s not a story with a great villain, or any horrible behavior. It’s just a story where people have different ideas about what sort of interaction they’re having, and it causes unnecessary tensions.
My friend [19F] invited us (same age ish) out to dinner to meet her dad. We went to a Chinese restaurant and she told us he would pay. She and her dad are vegetarian, so obviously they only ordered veggie dishes, but the rest of us eat meat, so we ordered two meat dishes, cause we all like meat! No one likes just vegetables. No one said anything, her dad paid and we took the leftover meat home, cause obviously they didnt want it. The next day my friend was all mad cause we ordered meat. Apparently it was rude to make her dad pay for something he couldnt eat and that we excluded her from the table. But come on it was 2 dishes out of like 6. There was tons of stuff they could eat. Also, she isn’t usually like this. Whenever we go out, she never gets pissy about us eating meat, so idk why she’s overreacting now.
Reading this, it seems pretty clear to me that the conflict stems entirely from a mismatched understanding about the nature of this sort of meal.
The father and daughter understood this to be a family-style meal, where individuals may place their own orders, but everyone is actually striving to order for the table. In that sort of context, there’s a big difference between ordering something that might not be super-exciting to everyone (fine) and ordering something that a significant portion of the table can’t eat (not fine).
But the poster doesn’t seem to have much experience with that sort of experience, so instead defaulted to a more individualistic approach where you order what you like, and assume others will do the same. In that context, it would be quite surprising that someone else felt like they had a legitimate claim on ‘your’ order.
However, I think even if you haven’t been steeped in a family-style dining experience, you still can probably intuitively grasp that the offer to take someone out to dinner isn’t supposed to be a blank check, but instead comes with a set of implied limits and reciprocal obligations. Some of which are quite simple: be sociable, say thank you, etc. And some of which are a little more context-dependent: don’t order the most expensive item, don’t order fancy cocktails (especially if the person paying isn’t drinking), and so on.
Again, a very individualized perspective might assume that the offer of a gift is just that: an offer. In a similar way, you might say if someone gives me a present for my birthday, it’s not really their business how I choose to use it. At the same time, if someone gave me a present and I immediately re-gifted it to someone else, I think the original giver would probably be offended. And rightly so. Which just demonstrates that even pretty straightforward gift economies have embedded forms of etiquette and mutual care.
In this case, I think it’s pretty clear that the parent and daughter had a set of expectations about what would be reasonable participation within a gift economy. They understand the gift of a meal as an offer for community and collective generosity. So they were probably offended by the poster’s seeming self-centeredness. To act this way, they probably imagine, is disrespectful. It doesn’t just deny the gift-giver the chance to share in the food; it tells them that you don’t value their gift at all. Because in their mind, the gift is the sharing of the meal.
I think that’s a pretty reasonable set of values. And I can understand why they were upset. However, I also think it’s perfectly reasonable for someone who doesn’t share those values to violate them, not out of malice, but simply because it literally wouldn’t occur to them that their behavior might cause offense.
So, if the question is, ‘who is the asshole?’ then the answer is ‘no one.’ But if the question is ‘could someone here have communicated better, and produced a happier and more enriching experience?’ then the answer is ‘yes, everyone could have communicated better.’
As with many things in life, empathy will get you a long way. Both by helping you to identify potential mismatched setups and addressing expectations before a conflict happens, but also by allowing you to recognize when you’ve stepped into one of these situations.
We all have some degree of natural tendency to pull into a defensive crouch, to look for fault, and to characterize ourselves as the victims of unjust persecution. But we also all have the capacity to step outside our narrow perspective and see that the other party in a conflict also probably sees themself as wronged in some sense. Navigating that sort of situation doesn’t require defining the scope of ‘guilt.’ Instead, it’s generally better to mutually acknowledge a breakdown in communication, which can become an opportunity to talk through how to achieve better understanding going forward.
In the case described here, there were multiple pretty straightforward off-ramps before the conflict. “Hey, is it cool if I order something with meat?” and/or “We’re so happy to get to do a meal together. Everyone should feel free to order what they like, but remember that it’ll be family-style so we’d appreciate if everyone can stick to vegetarian dishes, so the whole table can share.” More broadly, you could invite a conversation into what expectations come from different sorts of offers to cover a meal, what sorts of vegetarian options might be enjoyable to a ‘No one likes just vegetables’ person, and how different cultures treat different social settings.
Some conflicts are indelible and irresolvable. Fortunately, most are not. In the vast majority of cases, a potential conflict is actually just a hidden opportunity to learn a bit more about other people and their expectations. It’s not always easy, and not always achievable, but it’s usually worth trying.
I will admit that I clicked on the link because this precise sort of story is like catnip for me. As a vegetarian who tries very hard to being annoying about it, I find myself drawn like a moth to the flame by stories which promise judgmental food behavior. The stories are often precisely as irritating as you’d expect, and I almost never find anything remotely illuminating in them. And yet, I continue to click.
This one, at least, does not seem to be ragebait, but instead reflects a genuine moment of misinterpretation among friends, and therefore also a genuine opportunity to learn.