So I know I can be pretty high energy, but
...Do I look scary to you?
Yesterday we had a young woman (okay well probably older than me) come to the office to find out about volunteer opportunities at the non-profit I work for. My Managing Director sent her to me, because well he was busy wrangling the IT consultants and didn't really have any jobs to give her at the moment. Apparently I looked just harried enough to possibly have a job to hand off to someone.
And I did, actually. Would have been great to have a look at the blog we're trying to put up and add any helpful tips or suggestions on the formatting. I hate HTML. Or I'm just too dense to make any sense of it. I'm only just beginning to play with my own blog formatting, so I'm hardly an expert though I think I am making some strides. Put it this way, my MOM can code better than yours truly.
So Cupcake (as I will refer to her here) is all of about 5'4, mid-late 20's with bright blue eyes and a 'perky' expression. . The MD deposits her in my room after a tour and she perches hesitantly on the edge of the chair, staring at me.
I pause here to tell you something about my job. I work in an old apartment converted into an office, with about 10-15 other people. We each have our own office space but since most of our work is done via computer and phone -- or by studio it's a pretty lo-key environ. I wear jeans to work most days. Ah, the joys of working in radio. My 'office' (code name: padded room) is pretty sweet. I have a window looking out onto the balcony planter boxes, tons of plants and cool blue walls (I got to pick the accent color when we repainted a year ago) I try to make it comfy - hell I spend 40+ hours a week there.
I start with maneuvering my chair so I'm not sitting behind my desk to eliminate the 'principal's office' sensation and open with a crack of being terrible with names and asking her to re-introduce herself. (I Find, having one of those names people rarely remember or pronounce right the first, second or even fifth time -- that it relaxes folks for me to confess that I'm no good with names. So I ask theirs, which gives me a chance to reintroduce myself. I cannot tell you how often a look of relief replaces the panic growing on their faces when I repeat my name slowly one-more-time)
Anyway, Cupcake coughs out a little laugh I realize she is not to be swayed by my attempt at icebreaking. Hmmm. Business it is. So I ask her about herself, and what she's looking to do. I tell her what jobs I have. She's too new to web design to help much with the blog. I show her our brochures and business cards that could use a once over.
The invisible timer goes off, we stand, I thank her for coming by and walk her to the front door. What an odd creature. She hardly breathed sitting in the chair and once we started talking I do believe she forgot to blink. On the way back to my office I realize I've seen the look on her face before -- in the eyes of the deer I almost hit driving up 101 late at night. Hmmm...I replay the conversation in my mind. That can't be right...
SHE wanted to volunteer, it's not like I was steamrolling her into anything. I consider my appearance. Which, to my credit was more 'professional' than my usual jeans and tennies but still Humboldt County enough not to earn me strange looks at the Co-op getting lunch. I guess my sweater is a little odd -- being hand knit with an abundantly fuzzy cowl neck. Okay, I confess my hair was a bit odd. It was pouring when I woke up and -- exhausted with the prospect of battling my 'fro all day -- I braided my hair into some chunky but (I thought) stylish locks. I passed the mirror and did a precursory check -- nothing in the teeth.
Hmm...Out of curiosity I swung by Malia's office where she and Cathy were chatting with the question: "Do I look scary to you?"
I can't tell which one of them laughed harder. I mean at 5'6 and 130 soaking wet with boots on, I do not exactly cut an intimidating figure. I don't even make a very good ABW (Angry Black Woman, for those of you who don't know better) on my most crabby day. At best, I can pull of a Cranky Brown Grrl pretty well. (Usually involved in a road range incident)
Yes, I know there are many camps who might argue that there is a 'B' in that label at all is enough to 'scare' some folks.
I have the distinct impression that Cupcake was well nigh terrified of lil'ole me. Can anybody out there back me up on this? Have you ever had the sense that you set someone's nerves jangling just going about your own business? Care to share your theory?
Yesterday we had a young woman (okay well probably older than me) come to the office to find out about volunteer opportunities at the non-profit I work for. My Managing Director sent her to me, because well he was busy wrangling the IT consultants and didn't really have any jobs to give her at the moment. Apparently I looked just harried enough to possibly have a job to hand off to someone.
And I did, actually. Would have been great to have a look at the blog we're trying to put up and add any helpful tips or suggestions on the formatting. I hate HTML. Or I'm just too dense to make any sense of it. I'm only just beginning to play with my own blog formatting, so I'm hardly an expert though I think I am making some strides. Put it this way, my MOM can code better than yours truly.
So Cupcake (as I will refer to her here) is all of about 5'4, mid-late 20's with bright blue eyes and a 'perky' expression. . The MD deposits her in my room after a tour and she perches hesitantly on the edge of the chair, staring at me.
I pause here to tell you something about my job. I work in an old apartment converted into an office, with about 10-15 other people. We each have our own office space but since most of our work is done via computer and phone -- or by studio it's a pretty lo-key environ. I wear jeans to work most days. Ah, the joys of working in radio. My 'office' (code name: padded room) is pretty sweet. I have a window looking out onto the balcony planter boxes, tons of plants and cool blue walls (I got to pick the accent color when we repainted a year ago) I try to make it comfy - hell I spend 40+ hours a week there.
I start with maneuvering my chair so I'm not sitting behind my desk to eliminate the 'principal's office' sensation and open with a crack of being terrible with names and asking her to re-introduce herself. (I Find, having one of those names people rarely remember or pronounce right the first, second or even fifth time -- that it relaxes folks for me to confess that I'm no good with names. So I ask theirs, which gives me a chance to reintroduce myself. I cannot tell you how often a look of relief replaces the panic growing on their faces when I repeat my name slowly one-more-time)
Anyway, Cupcake coughs out a little laugh I realize she is not to be swayed by my attempt at icebreaking. Hmmm. Business it is. So I ask her about herself, and what she's looking to do. I tell her what jobs I have. She's too new to web design to help much with the blog. I show her our brochures and business cards that could use a once over.
The invisible timer goes off, we stand, I thank her for coming by and walk her to the front door. What an odd creature. She hardly breathed sitting in the chair and once we started talking I do believe she forgot to blink. On the way back to my office I realize I've seen the look on her face before -- in the eyes of the deer I almost hit driving up 101 late at night. Hmmm...I replay the conversation in my mind. That can't be right...
SHE wanted to volunteer, it's not like I was steamrolling her into anything. I consider my appearance. Which, to my credit was more 'professional' than my usual jeans and tennies but still Humboldt County enough not to earn me strange looks at the Co-op getting lunch. I guess my sweater is a little odd -- being hand knit with an abundantly fuzzy cowl neck. Okay, I confess my hair was a bit odd. It was pouring when I woke up and -- exhausted with the prospect of battling my 'fro all day -- I braided my hair into some chunky but (I thought) stylish locks. I passed the mirror and did a precursory check -- nothing in the teeth.
Hmm...Out of curiosity I swung by Malia's office where she and Cathy were chatting with the question: "Do I look scary to you?"
I can't tell which one of them laughed harder. I mean at 5'6 and 130 soaking wet with boots on, I do not exactly cut an intimidating figure. I don't even make a very good ABW (Angry Black Woman, for those of you who don't know better) on my most crabby day. At best, I can pull of a Cranky Brown Grrl pretty well. (Usually involved in a road range incident)
Yes, I know there are many camps who might argue that there is a 'B' in that label at all is enough to 'scare' some folks.
I have the distinct impression that Cupcake was well nigh terrified of lil'ole me. Can anybody out there back me up on this? Have you ever had the sense that you set someone's nerves jangling just going about your own business? Care to share your theory?
posted by Eddie at 6:40 PM
1 Comments:
Yeah, I'm with you. Sometimes, no matter how polite or amiable I behave, I just can't seem to make it through someone's defenses. Don't ask me why. It's strange, no?
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