welcome January 10, 2005 Issue

Expecting the very best

Suzanne Smedley

'My father told me never to trust anyone," announced my landlady one day in her kitchen, between sips of tea. I don't remember exactly what precipitated her telling me that—it may have been the time she learned that I had a new boyfriend, or the day she heard an extra pair of footsteps in our upstairs apartment and suspected my roommate and I had secretly taken on a third tenant to reduce the rent. We hadn't, but it wasn't easy convincing her.

Despite her cynicism, my landlady had a good heart. She'd invite us downstairs for tea and cookies in her kitchen, where we laughed and chatted about everything from old films stars (a favorite topic of hers) to the latest news. And at the end of every year, we'd get an invitation to get together by the blinking lights of her Christmas tree for snacks, and to exchange gifts.

I've since moved to another apartment, but two weeks ago I heard similar advice from a friend as I was on my way to the car mechanic for a muffler. "Be careful. They'll try to sell you an oil change, too," he warned. "That's how they make their money." As I drove down the highway to the garage, it occurred to me that I needed to expect better of the mechanic who'd be working on my car. The expectation that he'd be dishonest with me, or give in to pressure from the home office to sell me something I didn't need, was actually contrary to his being "very good," which is the way the Bible says God created him (see Gen. 1:31). Looking at it this way didn't seem naive to me. I felt as though it would bring out the best in whatever mechanic or salesperson I'd be dealing with.

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