Years ago, when I worked as a consultant for another firm, I was a road warrior. I left home Monday mornings and returned Friday afternoons, almost every week. I traveled enough to have status with the airlines, and back then, upgrades weren’t as automated as they are now, and gate agents had some discretion. I made it a point to be nice to them, not because I expected anything, but because being pleasant generally makes life easier for everyone.
I remember arriving at the gate for a flight to Florida when the agent told me I’d been upgraded to business class. It was my first upgrade, and I felt like I’d arrived. Maybe I’d finally accumulated enough miles, or maybe the agent was just being nice. I didn’t particularly care. I was sitting up front!
The following week, I took the same flight and wasn’t upgraded. I was disappointed. Think about that for a moment. A week earlier, I’d been perfectly happy sitting in coach. One flight in business class, and suddenly coach wasn’t good enough for me. Apparently, my standards had improved considerably in seven days.
As luck would have it, the flight crew was the same as the previous week. One of the flight attendants recognized me at the gate, came over to say hello, checked her roster, and asked why I wasn’t in business class. I told her I hadn’t been upgraded. She smiled, told me to come with her, and somehow got me moved up front. For the rest of that project, the same thing happened. Sometimes it was the gate agent, sometimes the flight attendant, but I kept getting upgraded.
Then the project ended, and so did the upgrades. I was back in coach, telling anyone who would listen how much better business class was and how I needed to get back there. A few weeks was all it took for me to forget that I’d spent years perfectly happy sitting in the back of the plane.
Nothing about coach had changed. I had.
I’ve thought about how easily this happens in other parts of our lives. The restaurant we once saved for special occasions becomes somewhere we go on an ordinary Tuesday. The income we once dreamed of earning becomes the amount we need just to feel comfortable. The accomplishment we once celebrated becomes the minimum we expect of ourselves. Somewhere along the way, what felt extraordinary becomes ordinary, and we barely notice it happening.
The same thing happens at work, and not just to us. Someone goes above and beyond, and we’re delighted. They do it again, and we’re impressed. After a while, we come to expect it. Eventually, when they deliver exactly what they were originally supposed to, we wonder why they’re doing less. Their performance hasn’t necessarily declined; our expectations have risen.
What’s interesting is that we rarely make a conscious decision to change those expectations. There’s no moment when we announce that yesterday’s extra is now today’s minimum. We experience something better, get comfortable with it, and quietly redefine what normal looks like. Once that happens, going back to what used to make us perfectly happy can feel like losing something, even though nothing has actually been taken away.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting more or raising our standards. That’s how we grow. But I wonder how often we confuse getting used to something with needing it. And how often does getting something better make what we already have feel worse?
“Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.” – Epicurus
I wasn’t unhappy flying coach until someone showed me business class.
Have a good weekend.
-Vijay