Working in an administrative position you're likely to have to answer phones at some point. In my case, I get a few calls during the week for those I support, but other than that it's fairly quiet ... except on Fridays. Oh Fridays, how I normally love you, but now don't because of the stupid phone calls!
I cover the phones for another secretary on Fridays so she can have lunch. That 45 minutes to an hour are the worst part of my week - and that is NOT an overstatement. It seems like all the whacky questions come in during that time. All the crazies pick up the phone at once and call me to get answers.
No, I don't know where the temple sends their "special" linens.
No, I don't know how you can reach so-and-so on their personal or home line. (And even if I did, I wouldn't give that information to you!)
No, I don't know who pays for your stake's phones or internet access.
No, I can't see if someone is in their office on the 11th floor when I work on the 4th floor. (Who am I, Houdini?)
No, I don't know what's on the menu at The Lion House.
No, I can't make reservations at The Garden Room.
What can I do? I can hang up on you right now. Honestly, I try to be nice and help people as much as I can, but sometimes, dangit, I just can't do what they're asking. The annoying part of all of it is that they've usually been transferred to me from the general number, and the people answering phones there didn't ask enough questions to find out what the person really wanted or needed. GR! It frustrates me to no end.
Years ago, I used to work as a supervisor in a call center. I would take the escalated calls and try to "make things right" for people calling in with concerns or questions. How in the world did I do that for so many years?! It probably sucked 30 years off of my life doing that job, and I had no clue it was happening. Heaven knows it sucks 30 years off of my life every Friday when those phones get transferred to me.
The ONLY person I call regularly and actually enjoy talking to is my mom. It keeps me sane (as in: awake) for part of my commute home from work. Once I'm done talking to her, I'm good for at least another 24 hours before talking with anyone on the phone. Why? I don't know. Even in high school I didn't like talking on the phone. My sister would talk on the phone for ages to literally anyone when she was in high school. Not me! You couldn't pay me enough money to talk on the phone for very long.
Should we chalk that up to my introversion? Yeah, let's go with that explanation. Just don't make me answer any more phone calls!
Showing posts with label Introverts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Introverts. Show all posts
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Abandonment Issues?
When I was a kid, I always wanted to go where my mom and dad went. If they were having a Friday night card night with Huffs and Leifsons, I wanted to be there. If they were going on a date, I wanted to go. If there was a trip to the store, I wanted in. It didn't matter where they were going, I wanted to be with them.
It continued as I got older. I loved to have sleepovers with friends, but they worked out best when the friends came to my house. Sometimes I could make it through the night sleeping at Shauna's house (which was just around the corner, and through the backyard fence), but even then I usually sneaked home early to say hi to Dad before he left for work. One particular time, I sneaked home to find the doors locked (Dad forgot to unlock them for me when he got up). Instead of bothering the family by knocking, I waited outside in the front yard on the swing set. I stubbed my toe as I came home that morning and sat with it bleeding and gross until Dad opened the front door for me. He actually brought the Band-Aids and Neosporin outside and fixed me up as I sat on the swing. Once he was done with that and we'd had a hug, I went back over to Shauna's and sneaked back up on to the deck and pretended I'd been there the entire night. I don't know if anyone was the wiser or not, but it was the only way to keep my sanity.
There were other times I had problems, too. I remember sleeping over at my cousin, Kandice's, house one particular night. For whatever reason, I was convinced there would be a fire or a break in or something wrong at my house that I stressed myself out completely. It was around 1:00 a.m. that I finally got the nerve to go into my Uncle Mark and Aunt Laurel's room to ask if they'd take me home. Mom and Dad were probably not too happy about the call in the middle of the night saying I was coming home, but they never said anything to me about it. Mom did take time the next day to reassure me that nothing bad was going to happen to them just because I slept over at a friend's house.
Later, when we have moved homes and I had grown up a little, there were many times my parents were going some place and asked me if I wanted to come. (They were likely so used to having me around it probably felt weird for them to not have me tagging along.) Anyway, I was trying to assert my independence and said that I didn't want to go. They asked again, and I declined. They let me be a "big girl" and left on their own.
I sat on the couch and cried practically the entire time they were gone because I had chosen not to go with them, to be with them, or to spend time with them.
This happened more than once. Much more than once. It went on until I was well into my teens. Pathetic, right?
A psychologist or psychiatrist might say I have abandonment issues. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What I do know is that I had a fear of losing the people most important to me. When we lost Dad to Parkinson's and Diabetes and a massive stroke, it was awful. But I survived. That was an important lesson to learn at his passing. I still struggle though.
Several years ago, before Dad died, I traveled to the Washington DC are to visit Shauna and her family. It was something like a two-and-a-half week trip. It was totally amazing, and I loved every minute of it! But I was so home sick the whole time. I missed Mom and Dad and Bear. I worried about being killed on the plane ride home. I feared for bad things that might happen to Mom and Dad while I was gone. It was worry and fear over things I couldn't control. How is that rational?
Anyone else have weird things that might be considered "abandonment issues?" I think I'm a healthy, thriving adult with a fairly good grasp on life. Maybe not?
It continued as I got older. I loved to have sleepovers with friends, but they worked out best when the friends came to my house. Sometimes I could make it through the night sleeping at Shauna's house (which was just around the corner, and through the backyard fence), but even then I usually sneaked home early to say hi to Dad before he left for work. One particular time, I sneaked home to find the doors locked (Dad forgot to unlock them for me when he got up). Instead of bothering the family by knocking, I waited outside in the front yard on the swing set. I stubbed my toe as I came home that morning and sat with it bleeding and gross until Dad opened the front door for me. He actually brought the Band-Aids and Neosporin outside and fixed me up as I sat on the swing. Once he was done with that and we'd had a hug, I went back over to Shauna's and sneaked back up on to the deck and pretended I'd been there the entire night. I don't know if anyone was the wiser or not, but it was the only way to keep my sanity.
There were other times I had problems, too. I remember sleeping over at my cousin, Kandice's, house one particular night. For whatever reason, I was convinced there would be a fire or a break in or something wrong at my house that I stressed myself out completely. It was around 1:00 a.m. that I finally got the nerve to go into my Uncle Mark and Aunt Laurel's room to ask if they'd take me home. Mom and Dad were probably not too happy about the call in the middle of the night saying I was coming home, but they never said anything to me about it. Mom did take time the next day to reassure me that nothing bad was going to happen to them just because I slept over at a friend's house.
Later, when we have moved homes and I had grown up a little, there were many times my parents were going some place and asked me if I wanted to come. (They were likely so used to having me around it probably felt weird for them to not have me tagging along.) Anyway, I was trying to assert my independence and said that I didn't want to go. They asked again, and I declined. They let me be a "big girl" and left on their own.
I sat on the couch and cried practically the entire time they were gone because I had chosen not to go with them, to be with them, or to spend time with them.
This happened more than once. Much more than once. It went on until I was well into my teens. Pathetic, right?
A psychologist or psychiatrist might say I have abandonment issues. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What I do know is that I had a fear of losing the people most important to me. When we lost Dad to Parkinson's and Diabetes and a massive stroke, it was awful. But I survived. That was an important lesson to learn at his passing. I still struggle though.
Several years ago, before Dad died, I traveled to the Washington DC are to visit Shauna and her family. It was something like a two-and-a-half week trip. It was totally amazing, and I loved every minute of it! But I was so home sick the whole time. I missed Mom and Dad and Bear. I worried about being killed on the plane ride home. I feared for bad things that might happen to Mom and Dad while I was gone. It was worry and fear over things I couldn't control. How is that rational?
Anyone else have weird things that might be considered "abandonment issues?" I think I'm a healthy, thriving adult with a fairly good grasp on life. Maybe not?
Friday, July 31, 2015
Personal Space
Part of my introversion includes a need for personal space. The amount of personal space needed varies on environment and mood. If I'm comfortable with you and we're friends, the amount of personal space needed gets smaller. It's also a fairly small space with family, as long as I'm in a comfortable situation and nobody is being confrontational.
Here's the thing though. Personal space is not just a perimeter of space around me or my body. It's also about "things" - as in my personal property. For example, one of my nieces lived with us for a time. When she was the only one at home, she would go into my room and look through my things. Weirdly, I'm very observant and know exactly how I left things when I left a room. Because of that, I always knew when someone had been through my things. They were ... different, in a different place, adjusted slightly, etc., and I could tell they had been touched or moved. As a non-confrontational person, I realized the only way to stop the problem with my niece was to address it. When I did, however, she simply denied she'd been in my room. Without any proof (because nobody was home when she would go in my room), it was difficult for Mom and Dad to "punish" her for her actions. And I was left looking like a crazy person.
Similar things have happened since that niece lived with us. People have gone through my cabinets in the bathroom, helped themselves to floss and Q-tips and hair styling products, and rummaged through whatever else they wanted. If you're not an introvert or things like that don't bother you, it's hard to describe the feeling that overcomes you when others intrude in your "personal space."
It feels like I've been violated.
That's about the only way I can describe what it feels like. Imagine how you would feel if someone broke into your home and destroyed your things or stole something important to you. That's never happened to be, but I imagine it's a very similar feeling to what I feel when others invade my personal space or go through my things. My necessary "bubble" now has holes popped in it, and I feel like the clean air I once thrived on has turned to muddy sewage, and I'm now drowning in it.
Seems dramatic, right? Well, unless you've been there, you don't know.
Now, lest people think I'm just being selfish, I should clarify that if someone needs something and asks me for it, and I have it in my possession, I will 99.999% of the time give it to them to use or have. I find it very polite and thoughtful when someone asks. Even if I don't want to give it to them, I probably would anyway because they were thoughtful and polite enough to ask me for it.
On the other hand, when people feel entitled or owed or whatever and take/use my things without asking, I feel violated and immediately become defensive. I don't know how else to explain it. I think, however, that it has something to do with being an introvert because I feel very protective of me and my things. After all, a person works hard to buy, gain, get what they have. To have my valuables taken away (or dismissed as being not-so-valuable to someone else) makes me feel as if my hard work, efforts, time, energy, etc. are worthless. Normally, I don't care much about what others think of me, but devaluing my belongings or taking my things feels like a judgment on my opinions and thoughts.
As another way of explaining it, a nephew recently stayed with us and twice during his stay I found a big chunk removed from my hair product. Since I remove the product in a leveling way (it helps me "measure" how much I have so I know about how long it will last), I knew who had been in my hair product. It wasn't Mom!
Silly, right? To me it said, "You picked a hair product good enough for me to use, but not good enough that I need to ask you in order to use as much as I want whenever I want." It's not like the product cost a lot or couldn't be replaced, but it is something I have to budget for when considering what items to purchase. I understand with kids and teens that it's more about entitlement. I need it, you have it, therefore it's okay that I use it. Eventually, kids and teens grow out of that phase (we hope!) and realize that working and living paycheck-to-paycheck means you have to budget and someone else using your things puts a kink in your budgetary plans.
But there are adults who don't care. It's happened plenty of times to me. Because adults should "know better", it's like they're walking all over my personal space not caring what or who they step on. It's like saying I'm worth less rather than worthless. Nobody wants to feel that way. Plus, I don't go to other people's homes and use their things without asking. I know how it makes me feel, and I'd never want someone else to feel that way about me.
I think the best thing to do is to give me my personal space. Ask before you use something of mine, and never assume using something of mine is okay just because it's not under lock and key. Maybe it's about respect? I don't know, but personal space is important to introverts, especially, and it's good manners to be mindful of others anyway. And that's just one reason why I need my personal space, m'kay?
Here's the thing though. Personal space is not just a perimeter of space around me or my body. It's also about "things" - as in my personal property. For example, one of my nieces lived with us for a time. When she was the only one at home, she would go into my room and look through my things. Weirdly, I'm very observant and know exactly how I left things when I left a room. Because of that, I always knew when someone had been through my things. They were ... different, in a different place, adjusted slightly, etc., and I could tell they had been touched or moved. As a non-confrontational person, I realized the only way to stop the problem with my niece was to address it. When I did, however, she simply denied she'd been in my room. Without any proof (because nobody was home when she would go in my room), it was difficult for Mom and Dad to "punish" her for her actions. And I was left looking like a crazy person.
Similar things have happened since that niece lived with us. People have gone through my cabinets in the bathroom, helped themselves to floss and Q-tips and hair styling products, and rummaged through whatever else they wanted. If you're not an introvert or things like that don't bother you, it's hard to describe the feeling that overcomes you when others intrude in your "personal space."
It feels like I've been violated.
That's about the only way I can describe what it feels like. Imagine how you would feel if someone broke into your home and destroyed your things or stole something important to you. That's never happened to be, but I imagine it's a very similar feeling to what I feel when others invade my personal space or go through my things. My necessary "bubble" now has holes popped in it, and I feel like the clean air I once thrived on has turned to muddy sewage, and I'm now drowning in it.
Seems dramatic, right? Well, unless you've been there, you don't know.
Now, lest people think I'm just being selfish, I should clarify that if someone needs something and asks me for it, and I have it in my possession, I will 99.999% of the time give it to them to use or have. I find it very polite and thoughtful when someone asks. Even if I don't want to give it to them, I probably would anyway because they were thoughtful and polite enough to ask me for it.
On the other hand, when people feel entitled or owed or whatever and take/use my things without asking, I feel violated and immediately become defensive. I don't know how else to explain it. I think, however, that it has something to do with being an introvert because I feel very protective of me and my things. After all, a person works hard to buy, gain, get what they have. To have my valuables taken away (or dismissed as being not-so-valuable to someone else) makes me feel as if my hard work, efforts, time, energy, etc. are worthless. Normally, I don't care much about what others think of me, but devaluing my belongings or taking my things feels like a judgment on my opinions and thoughts.
As another way of explaining it, a nephew recently stayed with us and twice during his stay I found a big chunk removed from my hair product. Since I remove the product in a leveling way (it helps me "measure" how much I have so I know about how long it will last), I knew who had been in my hair product. It wasn't Mom!
Silly, right? To me it said, "You picked a hair product good enough for me to use, but not good enough that I need to ask you in order to use as much as I want whenever I want." It's not like the product cost a lot or couldn't be replaced, but it is something I have to budget for when considering what items to purchase. I understand with kids and teens that it's more about entitlement. I need it, you have it, therefore it's okay that I use it. Eventually, kids and teens grow out of that phase (we hope!) and realize that working and living paycheck-to-paycheck means you have to budget and someone else using your things puts a kink in your budgetary plans.
But there are adults who don't care. It's happened plenty of times to me. Because adults should "know better", it's like they're walking all over my personal space not caring what or who they step on. It's like saying I'm worth less rather than worthless. Nobody wants to feel that way. Plus, I don't go to other people's homes and use their things without asking. I know how it makes me feel, and I'd never want someone else to feel that way about me.
I think the best thing to do is to give me my personal space. Ask before you use something of mine, and never assume using something of mine is okay just because it's not under lock and key. Maybe it's about respect? I don't know, but personal space is important to introverts, especially, and it's good manners to be mindful of others anyway. And that's just one reason why I need my personal space, m'kay?
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