To be honest, I have never been a huge fan of the telephone. When friends in highschool were spending hours on the phone I preferred to either watch TV or see people in person. Our phone rarely rang in our home, my parents aren’t big phone people either.
To be even more honest, most times when I pick up the phone to make a call I feel anxious. Receiving calls was always easier for me than making them. I think it has something to do with feeling like I need to know who’s going to pick up at the other end and worrying that I am going to say the wrong thing. Best part of all this is, for a few years my job was working as intake officer for a local children’s treatment centre. I was on the phone all day long. I LOVED that job, I also felt like I was going to puke everyday.
Then I had kids. And the phone played an even bigger part in my life. It became an instrument of torture, a bearer of bad news. I received call after call from educators, coaches, other parents, family and friends that more often than not were delivering bad news about C and somehow I was meant to fix it all. It got so bad that I would feel faint every time my cell phone would ring.
Things have slowed down in the complaint call department around here (yes I know I probably just jinxed myself) and yet I still have a very visceral reaction when the phone rings. Who will be on the other end wanting something from me or delivering bad news or somehow just making my day harder?
Thank god for answering machines