The Curious Case of the Dirty Car

Part of The Invisible Rules of Culture Series

What living in Malawi is teaching me about the things nobody tells you.

Written by Joni Roberts

Traveler, storyteller, and public health advocate

"Sometimes the biggest communication problems aren't caused by language. They're caused by assumptions."

One of the perks of my Fulbright is that the NGO I'm working with provides a vehicle for volunteers.

They handle the maintenance.

The fuel.

The repairs.

When I don't need it, other members of the team use it for their work.

In other words, it's a shared vehicle.

One afternoon I noticed it was filthy.

Not "it could probably use a wash" dirty.

I'm talking dust on the outside, dirt on the inside, and the kind of dashboard where you could leave fingerprints without even trying.

One of my colleagues mentioned that the car needed to be cleaned.

I agreed.

I even suggested he let the team know because, if I'm honest, things sometimes get lost in translation when I make requests myself.

A week passed.

Nothing.

Another week.

Still nothing.

Finally, I decided to ask my driver directly.

"Could you please clean the car? I need it this afternoon."

I even clarified.

"Please clean both the inside and the outside."

A little while later he came to find me.

"Madam, the car is ready."

Perfect.

I grabbed my bag and headed outside.

The outside looked great.

The floor mats had been washed.

The seats had been vacuumed.

Then I opened the driver's door.

The dashboard was still covered in dust.

The inside of the doors?

Also dusty.

I could have written my name on them.

I called him over.

He looked.

Paused.

Then said, "Eesh...I don't have a cloth."

Now, I don't always say my first thought out loud.

This was one of those moments.

Because the question in my head was...

What did you use to wash the rest of the car?

Instead, I simply pointed at the dashboard.

"This still needs to be cleaned."

He nodded, found some wipes, and finished the job.

Problem solved.

Or so I thought.

The very next morning I climbed into one of the clinic vehicles.

Immediately I noticed two things.

It smelled amazing.

And the dashboard was spotless.

Not just wiped down.

Shiny.

The seats had been treated too.

Everything looked like someone had taken pride in cleaning it.

When we got to clinic, I asked my driver a simple question.

"Why didn't you do this for my car?"

He looked at me and said, almost casually,

"I didn't think you'd like the smell."

I just stared at him.

He didn't think I'd like the smell.

Not because I'd told him that.

Not because he'd asked me.

Because he'd decided for me.

Apparently there was dashboard cleaner.

Apparently there was interior protectant.

Apparently there was something that made the vehicle smell fresh.

It simply wasn't used because someone assumed I wouldn't want it.

He finished by saying, "Next time I'll do it."

And I believed him.

The funny thing is that this isn't even my car.

Several people use it.

When someone returns it dusty, everyone else inherits that dust.

The clinic vehicles, on the other hand, are cleaned regularly.

It's understood that they travel long distances over rough roads and should be maintained.

So naturally I wondered...

Why isn't the same standard applied here?

The longer I live in Malawi, the more I realize that my frustrations usually aren't about the thing itself.

The dusty dashboard wasn't really about dust.

It was about communication.

It was about stewardship.

It was about the difference between asking someone what they want and assuming you already know the answer.

Living abroad has taught me that assumptions are surprisingly expensive.

Sometimes they cost time.

Sometimes they cost relationships.

Sometimes they leave your dashboard covered in dust.

All because no one asked one simple question.

What I'm Learning

This week's invisible rule is that assumptions often replace questions.

What feels efficient to one person can feel frustrating to another.

I've learned that some of the easiest problems to solve begin with four simple words:

"What would you prefer?"

I'd love to hear from you

Have you ever had someone make a decision for you with good intentions, only to discover they guessed completely wrong?