Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown
Times
'I'll look at it' doesn't mean getting the job done
By Ann Ipock June 10, 2008
Well, it took Russell 28 years to find the perfect answer to my many requests: "I'll look at it" is his new answer when I ask for help in solving life's various dilemmas.
When I recently said, "Honey, don't we need to recaulk the shower?" instead of his usual-- "Why?" -- he acknowledged me with eye contact, a head nod and a sensible answer: "I'll look at it." Already used to his scoffing at my requests, I continued: "Well, because for one thing it's coming off and for another...." Wait a minute. He actually heard me. He didn't argue. He even sort of agreed in a tentative way.
I couldn't help but notice a similar pattern the next day when I said, "Hey, I noticed the trim around the front door is chipped. Can't we paint it?" He didn't even look up from his Golf Illustrated; instead, he immediately chirped out, "I'll look at it." And even though I was pretty sure it was my husband sitting in his manly man recliner, I had to take a second look.
And today, lo and behold, the fluorescent bulb in our walk-in closet went dim again, and I hollered, "Russell, something is wrong with this light again! I can't see! Didn't you replace the bulb a few months ago?" Y'all, he didn't even sigh or act irritated. He just said, "I'll look at it."
So now I've been making lists of ALL of the things I've wanted him to fix, change, repair, replace, order, negotiate or purchase.
Even though my birthday is not until September, I'm already dropping Ross Simons' catalogs next to the throne where he does his most industrious reading, where I KNOW he'll "look at it." And even though our 30th wedding anniversary is a mere two years off, I just last week took the Celebrity European cruise line brochure to dinner and pushed it toward him as he cut into his Outback Victoria Filet.
I did my usual sales job of how important it is to travel to the cradle of civilization before we're way too old to see, hear or remember any of it, reminding him how hard we'd worked all these years, even blinking back a tear (the accidental lemon squirt from my tea helped a little). He smiled, then said, "I'll look at." And y'all, he did.
So you see, that's all there is to it. We ask our hubbies/significant others these tiny favors and often find ourselves in a quandary when he/she won't even listen and he/she stomps off mad.
But those four little words have changed our lives: "I'll look at it." Fine.
Well. Yes, everything was fine for a while. But as surely as time moves forward, old ways creep back in and I ask you: Does anything really change? As usual, I was hearing one thing and he was saying another. I heard, "I'll look at it," which I thought meant: "I will immediately check into your request. I will fix, change, repair, etc. whatever it is you've asked me and then we'll move on to the next request. OK, honey?" Oh, and that's with a smile and kiss to you for even ASKING for such an intelligent "why didn't I think of that?" request. But that is, once again, simply my fantasizing.
It's kind of scary, but I think Russell has figured out a way of telling me what I want to hear, letting me mull it over a few days and THEN, I'm the one with problem -- the tub caulking, the door trim paint, the fluorescent bulb in the closet -- not him.
So, dear Russell, this is a letter to you; but yes, it's in the presence of many readers, friends and family. I want to clarify something:
Did you look at it? What did you see? Do you plan to fix, change, repair, etc.? And if so (let's hope the answer is yes), can you give me a timeline? Say, like, before New Year's Eve rolls around? Because, buddy, if you don't help me out soon, I've got an expensive carpenter who promises he will not only look at it, but he'll get 'er done. And the way I see it that's only fair.
Now, let's talk about that diamond necklace and anniversary trip to Italy ....