aging, education, Humor, introvert, school, women, work

You’re Not that Special

When people speak, I listen.  Okay, sometimes I pretend to listen.  While I’m listening or pretending, I’m definitely not talking.  As I’ve said before, I think it is high schoolerish to talk when someone else has the floor. I’m starting to think I’m in the minority on this issue because over the past week, there has been way too much talking going on.

The first talker talked while a colleague was graciously giving a group tour of his work area.  I found his work area interesting, but the talker must have felt differently.  He walked across the room, stopped in front of me, and asked me a question about an unrelated topic.  I gave a one-word answer, looked away, and hoped to shoo the walker-talker away; but he kept talking.  I took a few steps away from him, but he followed and so did his questions.  “Dude,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness. I’m not a talker.”

Fast-forward a few days to a meeting where people were seated around a large rectangular table in a conference room.  One person told everyone what she thought and what everyone else should think.  Sure, not my kind of gig, but I tolerated it, kept quiet, and let her think she was winning me over.  Truth be told, I am never gonna think like she wanted me to.  And then, out-of-the-blue, the person who sat next to me leaned over and told me her thoughts.  “Ah, hold up lady. What made you think that I wanted to hear your two cents and that I wanted to hear them while ‘one person’ was still talking? We don’t need double talkers,” I said to myself while flashing my best resting bitch face. She never saw it, which was surprising given I’m pretty good at it; she just kept talking. “Dudette,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness.  I’m not a talker.”

The terd, I mean third, talker talked at the same time the teacher was teaching.  She sat in the seat in front of me and when the teacher said something she didn’t agree with, she turned around in her seat and told me about it.  I tried to ignore her, but it didn’t work; she kept talking. The teacher responded like a high school teacher, even though were weren’t in high school, and glared…at me. “Excuse me, Ms. High schoolerish who is getting me in trouble with the teacher,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness.  I’m not a talker.”

I’m not sure what happened over the past week that led to way too much talking going on. Better yet, I’m not sure why people decided to talk to me at a time when they shouldn’t have been talking to anybody. I gave short answers, walked away, and flashed the RBF; all are signs that I’m not a talker. And when someone has the floor, you shouldn’t be either, because you’re not that special…nobody is.

 

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1980s, aging, comedy, Humor, introvert, school, women, work

High Schoolerish

I had a lot of fun in high school.  It was a long time ago but I still remember all the shenanigans just like they happened yesterday.   I was so busy having fun that the guidance counselor declared I would never be what I wanted to be, but I’m a healthy middle-aged woman in spite of his ‘counseling’.  I’d go back to high school in a heartbeat but recently, I realized I don’t have to go back. Some of high school is with me every day, but it’s not the part I liked.

Throughout my life, I’ve been given a lot of advice about how to be better at what I wasn’t supposed to be. Someone was always trying to change me or get me to fit in even though I’m not a fitter-inner, unless shenanigans are involved.  At my age, the chances of any major changes are slim to none because I don’t really aspire to much more greatness than I’ve already achieved.  You might say I’m comfortable with myself and my level of fit-in-ness. While that is good for me, it might be unsettling for others; just like in high school.

I was recently reacquainted with high schoolerish behaviors and it was sad rather than fabulously funny. Sitting in the back row of a room and whispering to your friend-of-the-day while someone else is talking is high schoolerish. Not the shenanigan type of high schoolerish, but the ‘I’m too cool for school’ type of high schoolerish. I bet the ‘too cool for schoolers’ feel that they don’t fit in, yet they desperately want to, so they pretend things are beneath them and not worth their time. Some people feel so unsettled with another’s comfortableness that they forget to extend common courtesies such as saying “hello” or offering a handshake. Perhaps they were just easily distracted by things such as their cell phone; just like a high schooler.

Whatever the story, high school ended over 40 years ago. It’s no longer about fitting in, or being the center of attention, or controlling the territory or the clique.  It’s about respecting other people-something everyone was supposed to learn in 6th grade social studies.  Oh, and I just checked, I listen when others are speaking was a graded activity on my 1968-69 Kindergarten Progress Report. I got a G on the G-S-I scale. What did you get?