On occasion, the city of Greenville plays host to a series of bicycle races that run through the downtown area. It can be a fun experience for bicycling enthusiasts of all ages, and literally tens of people show up to watch the event. Several city blocks are sectioned off for the races, and it just so happens that the building I work in is planted firmly in the middle of the race area. Since the races typically take place on Sunday during the day, this really only limits the number of people inconvenienced to whoever happens to be working 1st shift on that particular day. As it turns out, for the past two years, that lucky individual was me.
When they started doing the races several years ago, the event coordinators would contact...someone, who would contact our department supervisor, who would contact our shift supervisor, who would ultimately let us know not to park in the race area on that particular day. For the last couple of years, though, something has broken in that chain of communication.
Last year was the first year I actually had to work the weekend of the races. It was Sunday afternoon. I had already suffered through a particularly annoying morning, as the weekly maintenance window had not gone as smoothly as normal. As I was settling into what would hopefully be a dull remainder of the day, my attention was captured by movement on one of the outside security cameras. I noticed a line of bicycles pedaling around the northeast corner of the building. I thought this was odd, since they were going against traffic on a one-way street, and stepped outside to take a look. It was at this point that I realized how screwed I was.
My immediate response was a string of profanity that would make my dad both proud and ashamed. Anger properly vented, I started analyzing the situation to determine my next step. I had two objectives that I must accomplish:
Free my car from the race area
Contact 2nd shift to warn them about the races
Contacting 2nd shift was not a pressing matter, as for some crazy reason, getting home weighed more heavily on my mind than where Terrance was going to park. It still was a requirement, however, because I wouldn't put it past Terrance to pull up to the building, see all the roads blocked off, assume we were closed, and go home.
It is important to the story to explain that our building has a fenced in parking lot reserved for the university-owned vehicles. This parking lot also serves as a secure area to park for our employees who work nights and weekends. As it happened, I had decided to park my car in this lot that day. This complicated my situation, as if I had parked in a normal lot, I could pull out onto one of the roads that was enclosed by but wasn't being used by the race, wait for a gap in the cyclists, then just slip around the barricade and park outside the course. In the secure lot, however, the only exit was onto the actual race course, with the nearest barricade being too thorough to get around.
So, I made sure the phones were forwarded to the dedicated cellphone we keep in the event we have to leave the command center, and went in search of an exit. I spotted a police car parked across the track from the front of our building and decided it was a good place to start. I waited until the coast was clear, then jogged across the road to the police. I explained my situation to them, and they suggested that I go talk to the event coordinator, who was set up in a tent further down the block. With that, the cops left.
I wandered down to the tent, and caught the attention of the first person with a clipboard I could find. I explained my situation to him, and he had me talk to a woman who was keeping track of the times. She told me the race would be over in about 10 laps and that I could move my car during the break before the next race.
Once my car was free, I came back inside, tracked down Terrance and told him where he could park when he got to work. While it was annoying that they hadn't let us know the race was going to happen, they were nice about it and accommodating, so I wasn't too bothered by the whole ordeal.
So, when I glanced at the outside cameras this year and noticed bicycles pedaling by again, I was mildly irritated, but not overly concerned by the whole thing. I walked outside to the tent where the event coordinators were stationed and again explained my situation. This time, however, the guy I talked to seemed far more concerned with my accusation that they hadn't notified us than whether or not I could move my car. He explained to me in great detail and to great length about how it was not his fault and that he had contacted the people he was required to contact.
Biting down on my rising anger, I explained to the man that I really didn't care whose fault it was and that my primary concern was getting my car out of the race area. I offered him a compromise, suggesting that if he could find me a window in the race to move my car, then it wouldn't be a surprise late entry into the race.
No cyclists were harmed in the drawing of this picture
Surprisingly, he was very accommodating after that.
As we've touched on a time or two in the past, I'm not very good at social interactions. It can be frustrating watching other people strike up conversations and carry on without a care in the world, while I always feel trapped and panicked, unsure of exactly what to say, what to do, how to keep the conversation going, or sometimes how to mercy kill the entire awkward encounter.
Talking to people, for me, feels like playing the verbal version of Dance Dance Revolution, only none of the verbal cues are scrolling up the screen, so I keep missing them.
Is there a lower difficulty than "Pants-on-head Retarded"?
Of course, you still have to talk to people, regardless of how difficult it may seem, because the only thing worse than awkwardly powering your way through a conversation is silently staring at someone as they're trying to have a conversation with you.
What makes it all so difficult for me is the tremendous amount of pressure I always feel to perform, to be "on", to just fill the role that the normal world wants me to fill. Interacting with more functional people always puts pressure on me to help carry the conversational ball. That's not to say that I loathe everyone I talk to, as that couldn't be farther from the truth, I just don't know how to talk to them! There aren't many aspects of my life where I don't feel pressured.
Interacting at work
Our department is kind of isolated from the rest of the building, so we don't really pass a lot of people in the hallway and aren't forced into a lot of small talk. But sometimes, you have to venture out to ask a question about a server that's showing down, or report some other problem. Because I'm not overly talkative, I've developed a reputation at work that whenever you see Brian coming, you duck and cover because he's bringing a problem with him. So, I get criticism that I never come to just chat and see how things are going. I don't think anyone means to hurt my feelings when they say it, but that's just how my brain takes things. So, I feel pressured in going to be social with these people. And for me, it's not just a matter of striking up a conversation. No, I have to mentally prepare myself, like I'm going into battle. Paul and Mark are two of my best work friends outside of my department. I've talked with them over the years, I've gamed with them over the years. Yet, I still have to mentally psyche myself up for 5-10 minutes before wandering down to one of their cubicles to see what they're up to or if they've played any good games lately.
And you have to talk at work. If you're quiet, people call you out on it, with comments suggesting that you're acting like someone ran over your family pet or something. So you can't not talk, even if all you want to do is not have anyone cast a spotlight on you.
Interacting with family
Conversations with the family aren't much easier. Whenever I go to visit a parent, or a sibling, or a cousin, or whoever, I have to go through a mental checklist of which topics to discuss and which ones to ignore. I try not to ask too many questions about how anyone is doing, as if they aren't doing well, then I'm causing them more discomfort having to relive the experience. I also avoid anything negative going on in my own life, as I don't want to cause any more burden on anyone. So, I mostly just listen while I'm there. I feel bad sitting there and not saying anything, but it seems like the best compromise, as I don't feel like I'm imposing on anyone by disrupting their normal routines. When it comes time to leave, I feel guilty for going, because I don't want anyone to think I'm rushing off and glad to be leaving, but I'm just mentally exhausted and need to go home and recharge.
Interacting at church
Church is a very social environment, as you're supposed to share in fellowship. But it also feels like forced social interaction. It is nice setting foot in a place where you feel that the bulk of the people you bump into are genuinely glad to see you, but it is very difficult trying to talk to them all as well. Because you can't just say "hey" and go take a seat. You have to tell them what's happening with you, ask the appropriate questions to find out what's happening with them, and so on. On top of that, there's a forced introduction at the start of services, where you have to go around and talk to people and shake their hands. You cannot sit down and hope that no one notices you, you have to stand there and wait for the more functional social butterflies to come and greet you. And the hand shaking bothers me as well. There are one, maybe two people outside of relatives who I am comfortable touching. But you can't really tell people you're uncomfortable.
So, despite usually enjoying the experience afterwards, there are many days where I have to engage in a battle of wills to even go. If I can't make it to the first church service with the lower attendance, I don't even bother going to the second service.
Interacting with friends
As we've touched on a time or two, I've never had a lot of friends, and most of the ones I have had tend to be the more extroverted/borderline self-centered types. I just attract the type, which makes sense. I'm normally quiet and attentive, which gives people who like to talk about themselves a stage on which they can perform. So, conversations with these people tends to be a gauntlet of me asking all the questions necessary to allow them to talk about themselves, with my own well being not really being a topic of interest or discussion.
That being said, I have had a few friends who I feel more comfortable interacting with. I'd estimate that I have four good friends that I can really interact with, one of whom I feel I can talk to about anything with nothing but understanding on their end. (I don't like being in the spotlight, so I'll not be shining any spotlights on them)
Decisions
Social interactions aren't the only facets of my life where I feel tremendous pressure. Decision making can be crippling.
Allow me to walk you through my decision making process.
I'm with a friend, let's call this friend Lisa. Lisa and I are trying to figure out where we'd like to eat for dinner. Lisa asks if I have a preference.
What is my preference? I had McDonald's for lunch, which hardly checks off any boxes for things I no longer have a taste for, so that doesn't narrow the choices down. Besides, Lisa won't want to eat there for dinner, so I've eliminated no viable choices. I'm always partial to steak. But chicken is good. As is beef. And pork. And recently I developed a fondness of seafood too. So, yeah, no particular taste of what I want. Fine, how about steak, then? What's my budget? What's Lisa's budget? I don't want to pick a place that might not be cost effective for Lisa. So, let's not say steak. Besides, if we get steak, where do we go? Does the menu have a big enough assortment, where if Lisa decided she wanted pasta instead, she can find something? Wait, doesn't Lisa hate that particular restaurant anyway? Why does it matter, didn't we eliminate steak? Okay, budget. What's something middle of the road? If we go fast food, Lisa's going to judge me. If we go 5-star, Lisa might feel uncomfortable, or worse think that I'm coming onto her! I can't afford 5-star anyway. I don't know where 5-star is in this city! Okay, this is taking too long. Where are places we usually go? Lisa likes Cheddar's, but I don't want to keep going to the same place over and over again. But what if Lisa does? Well, what about a place with a similar menu? No, if we're going to a place with a similar menu, we might as well go to Cheddar's. But if we go there now, will it be too busy? I don't want to have to wait. I don't know when they close. What time is it now? Wait, are we going there?! How about some place I've always wanted to try. But I don't know when they close either. And what's on the menu? What if it's a bad place? If it's a bad place, will Lisa remember this next time she wants to go out to eat? Why is she staring at me? Say something. Say anything! Pick a place! PICK A PLACE!
At this point, the only logical option was to drive off a cliff...
And that is the conversation that plays through my head for any decisions, any conversation, any interaction I have with people. It's too much pressure.
I don't share any of this to offer any excuse for being difficult to interact with. Nor am I demanding that people adjust the way they approach me to cater to my own needs. As easy as that would make my life, I'm not that self-centered, plus I think we've established pretty well by now that I cannot say or do anything that I feel might inconvenience someone else. I just share so people can understand. If I'm not talking to you, there's a good chance it isn't because I don't want to talk to you, I just don't know how.
And that's why, a lot of the time, I'm happy to just go home at the end of the day and not talk to anyone. Not because I'm anti-social, but because I'm just that awful at it.
Recently, I got to hang out with a few friends, which was a nice break from the monotony of Go to Work/Go Home/Go to Work/Go Home. Well, we were trying to figure out what to do for dinner that night, and we all remembered that Brian had never been to Moe's. I've driven past several Moe's restaurants in my travels, I had just never been inside. I heard good things about the food, so it was definitely on my list of things to try. So, I was delighted to go. And so, we all hop in the car and head over to Moe's. The staff is friendly, which is nice, but the menu is foreign to me, so I take a minute to read over my choices. And it becomes apparent to me that Moe's is the Mexican equivalent of Subway. You tell them you want a burrito, but then you have to walk them through every single option of what you want on the burrito. You can't just order a #3, you have to tell them the tortilla, the meat, the cheese, the extras and add-ons. It's a whole process. I felt myself starting to unravel as I stared at the menu board.
"Welcome to panic attack!"
Meanwhile, my friends are ahead of me in line (make a decision Brian) they're going through the whole ordering process (you're going to hold them up Brian) and the restaurant is closing soon (you like Mexican food Brian) and there's people behind me in line (pick something) so I'm holding everyone up (seriously, you have, like 4 choices) so maybe I won't eat (then they'll think they picked a bad place) I'm not that hungry anyway (why are you so bad at this) and now my friend is looking at me (she's going to think you're crazy) and my other friend is looking as well (he knows you're crazy) and now she's walking over (you're making them uncomfortable) she's getting closer (you're going to cause them problems why can't you just pick something it's not that hard people do it all the time but you can't do it why can't you do it why are you such a failure why is life so hard for you pick something Pick Something PICK SOMETHING!!!)
But instead of hiding their heads because I was on the verge of making a scene, or judging me, or anything, they helped explain the choices. This one comes with this, that one comes with that. Just follow us through the order process and you'll know what you have to choose from. It was okay to be panicked, it was okay to be overwhelmed, it wasn't a problem, it wasn't a burden. They understood.
They understood.
So, for once, there wasn't any pressure.
(borrowing the idea of including a song with the post from a friend. Don't sue!)
My apologies for the lack of update. One could argue that after the serious nature of the last post, I needed time off to collect my thoughts. It wasn't an easy history to relive (and in fact, one person unfriended me as a result of it), but to be perfectly honest, none of it bothers me anymore. I've already lived that story, learned what lessons needed to be learned, and moved on. The only reason I felt compelled to share at all is because someone didn't appreciate me sharing stories from my history that might cast others in a negative light. I agree that slandering someone is wrong, but I don't see a problem in telling a story exactly how it happened. So, I opted to just go ahead and tell the entire tale in one sitting to get it over with, so that the people who were bothered by it could get it over with and we could all move on.
So, if I wasn't taking a mental sabbatical, why no update?
Quite simply, I was out of town visiting some friends, and that took precedence.
Despite my insistence on not unpacking my bags, my vacation has come to an end, which means that updates will resume their normal schedule come Monday, September 15th.
