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My son says he gets upset when things don't work out the way he expects, which means "immediately," because his generation is growing up deprived. He's not alone. An entire generation has been experiencing wait-deprivation since birth.

It began just hours after his birth with a hospital visit by a Social Security Administration representative. She wasn't leaving my room without the newborn's full name and all other pertinent information so the government could issue his Social Security number and card immediately.

He also did not have to wait until his first doctor visit before receiving his first set of immunizations. It seemed like only hours after his birth when we were discharged from the hospital. We barely beat his Social Security card back to the house.

He went from instant formula to fast-food. When he was old enough to watch television, he did not have to wait for his favorite show to air at a certain time on a special day -- he just popped a tape into the VCR.

Today, he instantaneously downloads songs, games and information. News rapidly travels via cell phone or e-mail. Instant gratification is a way of life for my children and their peers.

This is why my child was unable to deal with the reality of shopping for a new computer. He wanted a desktop with a big hard drive, lots of RAM, several USB ports, wireless Internet access and lots of other features. However, there were lots of options and many retailers with different packages and pricing scenarios.

If he had his druthers, he would have purchased the first desktop package he found that met a few of his specs -- as long as he could buy it immediately.

However, he is still a minor. He had saved the money for the new computer, but it sat in my bank account awaiting disbursement. When we found everything he needed and wanted in an affordable package, I was happily at the ready with my convenient debit card.

When we ventured out to find the perfect PC, we slipped into an emotional routine. Excitement filled the air as we headed to store No. 1. Frustration took over as I convinced my child that he shouldn't settle for a clearance PC with minimal memory and questionable software packages.

Hope drifted in when I suggested we head to store No. 2. Disappointment overshadowed the evening when we realized that we'd inadvertently picked a retailer that sold high-end, highly expensive packages that only families of successful athletes could afford.

A smile crept across my teen's face when I promised that store No. 3 offered a wide selection of affordable, good quality models. As we searched store No. 3, we spotted the perfect model at a very reasonable price. We were both excited. We asked a sales associate to retrieve it from the "back," as only empty boxes sat below the display shelf.

We waited. The sales associate came out, gave us the "one-minute" gesture and called management for assistance.

My heart began to sink. My son was still optimistic. We waited.

By the time the sales associate returned, I'd logged 30 games of bubbles on my cell phone and my roots had grown out. I made a mental note to pick up hair dye. The associate was balancing boxes and books, cords and bubble wrap. He grinned widely and announced, "It was the last one in stock. The box was on display."

I've experienced sales associates bringing out a box and trying to sell a display model as the last one in stock. Of course, they always offered a discount in such a situation. I've never had someone state that the box was on display, and try to assure me that everything he was balancing in his arms was once in the box. Oh, and there was no discount for the box-was-on-display model.

I immediately said, "No thanks," and asked when they would receive another shipment. The sales associate, who was shocked and clearly disappointed, gave me a ballpark estimate of "before Christmas." He then assured me that everything was intact and he could pack it all back in the box if I wanted the box, too. I smiled, thanked him anyway, and made my way out of the electronics department.

My son was in shock. He could not believe I walked away. I explained my deep-rooted cynicism and then taught him a little Latin -- caveat emptor. Then I assured him we would find it at another location later in the week.

When my son began speaking to me again, he explained that his generation might be wait-deprived, but it's an asset. At least his generation has the ability to purchase a computer before what they want becomes obsolete.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.