"Wants And Needs"
At least once a month my wife and I have one of those discussions all married couples have about money. If you’re married you know the kind of discussions I am talking about. Those would be the ones that are supposed to consist of two equal partners who are entitled to vote the same number of shares sitting down and calmly and methodically evaluating the financial health of the family enterprise before making a reasoned decision and choosing a course of action, but in reality end up looking and sounding like two sandlot baseball teams which have agreed in principal to call their own balls and strikes arguing over a bang-bang play at third without the benefit of an umpire. Inevitably during the course of one of these wealth management summits in which we engage, one of us – usually my wife – will remind the other that the amount of money at our disposal is finite and we must therefore prioritize our expenditures because, after all, there is a big difference between wants and needs.
Adding to the necessity for tact and diplomacy during such talks is the inescapable fact that my definitions of “wants” and “needs” differ markedly from my wife’s. Combine that with the typical communication breakdowns and misinterpretations of various words and phrases which do not readily translate from one party’s native language to the other’s, and before long there is a real risk of reaching an impasse, that stage at which nothing gets accomplished and no one gets what he or she wants.
Compromise is the only key that will unlock the deadbolt of impasse, regardless of the subject of the disagreement. So in the spirit of compromise I hereby concede that many of the things I have been insisting for years were as necessary as food and water really amount to little more than fanciful wants and, well, I suppose I can live without them after all.
While I may want a six-wheeled utility vehicle complete with a winch package and two mounted rifle cases to bounce around the woods and tool around the neighborhood in, I suppose I can make do without. I will immediately stop coming home with new items of camouflaged clothing, even if I find a pattern or fabric I (somehow) don’t already own. Even though that authentic antler chandelier would have looked terrific over our little dining room table, I will eat by the light of our existing fixture and cancel the order. Begrudgingly, I will forego my compulsion for one of those camouflaged sixteen foot all aluminum welded hull duck boats with a cross seat and a gun box; such an item can always matriculate from “want” to “need” immediately upon my actually learning how and where to hunt ducks.
Now that I have shown my good faith and removed all doubt as to my commitment and willingness to compromise, it is only fair to expect that my needs will be approved by the Spousal Committee on Appropriations so as to permit me to begin acquiring them. They are quite spartan and I assure you I am not asking for much.
I need an after-market retrofit for a Parker VH to give it the three to five feet of built-in lead for crossing shots that was omitted by the fine folks in Meriden when the gun was constructed. Maybe the gun’s inability to stay in front of the target and keep moving as the triggers are fired is not due to an assembly oversight at all, and Parker just didn't offer such auxiliary support in the VH Grade. Perhaps, rather, the higher grade Parkers offer their more propertied owners such amenities the way luxury automobiles come with heated leather seats and satellite navigation so folks can stay plush and warm while they’re not getting lost on their way to the soccer field and the grocery store. Whatever the reason, be it base model options or a fabrication miscue, mine is merely a straight shooter and there are many a wood duck and mourning dove alive today because of it.
I need a turkey call that will actually call up turkeys. My requirement for one cannot be disputed, especially by anyone who has accompanied me into the woods after the dogwoods have bloomed. This particular item surges past “want” and embeds itself firmly into “need” because of the severe mental health implications of enduring too many more seasons of getting busted, bested, and laughed at by wild turkeys. Speaking of turkeys, I could use also a left leg and right buttock that won’t go to sleep fifteen minutes after setting up at the base of a pine tree.
I need the collected works of Gene Hill, Ted Trueblood, Tom Kelly, and Nash Buckingham sitting in my bookcase.
I dare anyone to quibble with me over my need for a camphouse overlooking a lake on a thousand acres of mixed pine-hardwood stands along the Alabama Blackbelt, complete with a stone fireplace, smartly appointed kitchen, and rooms adorned with Brett Smith prints. A handful of his etchings will do, too.
I want a job that will allow me to split my time between hunting and fishing and writing about hunting and fishing. I need, however, to feed my family. So for me it is back to the world where I, like most people, need a job I sometimes do not want in order that my wife and I can have discussions we need but do not want to have.
(c) Roger Guilian 2006
Adding to the necessity for tact and diplomacy during such talks is the inescapable fact that my definitions of “wants” and “needs” differ markedly from my wife’s. Combine that with the typical communication breakdowns and misinterpretations of various words and phrases which do not readily translate from one party’s native language to the other’s, and before long there is a real risk of reaching an impasse, that stage at which nothing gets accomplished and no one gets what he or she wants.
Compromise is the only key that will unlock the deadbolt of impasse, regardless of the subject of the disagreement. So in the spirit of compromise I hereby concede that many of the things I have been insisting for years were as necessary as food and water really amount to little more than fanciful wants and, well, I suppose I can live without them after all.
While I may want a six-wheeled utility vehicle complete with a winch package and two mounted rifle cases to bounce around the woods and tool around the neighborhood in, I suppose I can make do without. I will immediately stop coming home with new items of camouflaged clothing, even if I find a pattern or fabric I (somehow) don’t already own. Even though that authentic antler chandelier would have looked terrific over our little dining room table, I will eat by the light of our existing fixture and cancel the order. Begrudgingly, I will forego my compulsion for one of those camouflaged sixteen foot all aluminum welded hull duck boats with a cross seat and a gun box; such an item can always matriculate from “want” to “need” immediately upon my actually learning how and where to hunt ducks.
Now that I have shown my good faith and removed all doubt as to my commitment and willingness to compromise, it is only fair to expect that my needs will be approved by the Spousal Committee on Appropriations so as to permit me to begin acquiring them. They are quite spartan and I assure you I am not asking for much.
I need an after-market retrofit for a Parker VH to give it the three to five feet of built-in lead for crossing shots that was omitted by the fine folks in Meriden when the gun was constructed. Maybe the gun’s inability to stay in front of the target and keep moving as the triggers are fired is not due to an assembly oversight at all, and Parker just didn't offer such auxiliary support in the VH Grade. Perhaps, rather, the higher grade Parkers offer their more propertied owners such amenities the way luxury automobiles come with heated leather seats and satellite navigation so folks can stay plush and warm while they’re not getting lost on their way to the soccer field and the grocery store. Whatever the reason, be it base model options or a fabrication miscue, mine is merely a straight shooter and there are many a wood duck and mourning dove alive today because of it.
I need a turkey call that will actually call up turkeys. My requirement for one cannot be disputed, especially by anyone who has accompanied me into the woods after the dogwoods have bloomed. This particular item surges past “want” and embeds itself firmly into “need” because of the severe mental health implications of enduring too many more seasons of getting busted, bested, and laughed at by wild turkeys. Speaking of turkeys, I could use also a left leg and right buttock that won’t go to sleep fifteen minutes after setting up at the base of a pine tree.
I need the collected works of Gene Hill, Ted Trueblood, Tom Kelly, and Nash Buckingham sitting in my bookcase.
I dare anyone to quibble with me over my need for a camphouse overlooking a lake on a thousand acres of mixed pine-hardwood stands along the Alabama Blackbelt, complete with a stone fireplace, smartly appointed kitchen, and rooms adorned with Brett Smith prints. A handful of his etchings will do, too.
I want a job that will allow me to split my time between hunting and fishing and writing about hunting and fishing. I need, however, to feed my family. So for me it is back to the world where I, like most people, need a job I sometimes do not want in order that my wife and I can have discussions we need but do not want to have.
(c) Roger Guilian 2006
posted by Days Afield Host | 1:53 PM
