Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

My sister has recently read the book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking.  This book spoke to my sister, an introvert herself, who has often felt powerless in a world full of extroverts. Ironically, my sister won't stop talking about this book.

I like that this book has given my sister a sense of belonging to a group of introverts who have long felt that they were getting the short end of the societal stick. It validated her feelings that extroverts are loud and overbearing and making everyone who is not an extrovert uncomfortable. But I've had to challenge her a bit about some of the book's content. Mostly, she seems to believe that introverts are the only group of people that ever feel uncomfortable with certain social situations. She thinks that because I'm an (extreme) extrovert,  I don't ever feel uncomfortable socially. And while I do not flinch at public speaking, or meeting new people, or talking to strangers, or hosting parties, there are a few occasions in everyday life that really make me uncomfortable.

Shoppers Beware

I really resent the plastic divider you have to place on the conveyer belt between your merchandise and the items of the customer in line ahead of you at the grocery store. For starters, you almost always have to reach for it. You extend your arm--you typically have to go under the arms of a lady who's writing a check on that teeny check-writing pedestal--stretch out your hand to allow your finger tips to graze the plastic cube tube, and tickle it until it starts coming down the metal chute so you can get a firm grasp, at which point, you've gotten the attention of the check-writing customer. This is when it gets worse. I feel the need to explain and apologize through facial expressions why I have to divide my groceries from hers. I need my toothpaste and mayonnaise not to touch your tortilla chips. And that's on me. Not you. I'm just particular. You're great. And this sort of facial explanation inevitably causes me to begin talking compulsively with the customer, because I feel weird about drawing a line between our items as though I don't believe we are all brothers and sisters on this earth and only truly prosper when we share.

And when she seems not to understand why I'm yammering about how Kate Middleton--whose face is plastered all over the magazines in front of us--is doing a grave disservice to all new moms, I give up on her and turn to the customer behind me. I see that she is standing there with her groceries piled up on the metal edge of the conveyer belt, waiting for my condiments and diapers to move and give her purchases space. So then I do the awkward reach again, this time for the second plastic divider, and place it between my groceries and her pile. And then I wonder if putting the divider between us is perceived as rude because it's basically saying "I, in no way, want to pay for your groceries." So then I start apologize/explain smiling and awkwardly commending her for her choice in mustard.

This happens almost every time I go grocery shopping.

Which is why this is now my husband's chore.

The Answer is No

More often that you would think, people will say "No" to a simple question you ask in an attempt to be playful. For example: I was in the copy room the other day and a good friend was getting some extra paper for her office printer. I said, "Hey, can I borrow that stapler?" which was beside her. She said, "No you cannot," and then smiled at me a second before handing it over. There's always a beat in there before the person actually does whatever super easy task you've asked them to do. And in that beat, I'm left to respond in a way that accomplishes a few things: 1) playfully respond to ensure she knows I understand she's joking, 2) come back with something witty, as we are apparently engaged in banter, 3) use my will power not punch her in the face.

Check, Please

I spent a summer waitressing, so ranting about waiters/waitresses is coming from a place of knowledge. I am highly annoyed when I am out to lunch during the work week with coworkers and the waiter says at the end of the meal, "Will this be one check, or shall I separate it?" This makes me uncomfortable because it forces everyone at the table to play a game of ticket chicken. If you are the first to respond, you are admitting you are a tight ass who doesn't want to pay for anyone's meal but your own. If you are the last to respond, it looks like you were waiting for someone else to buy you lunch. So here's how it always plays out: the waiter comes up and says, "Will this be one check, or shall I separate it?" [Pause a beat], group of coworkers all muttering responses simultaneously, waiter becomes confused, leaving the table assuming the checks need to be divided. Hint: during lunch on a week day is most likely a split check, especially if it's a group of people who don't seem like they would have any other reason to be eating a meal together on a weekday. Or ever.

Happy Ending

I have sympathy awkwardness. I also project awkwardness that is usually accompanied by sympathy awkwardness. For example: I enjoy the occasional massage. But I struggle a bit with the ending. No, no, not like that. I project the awkwardness onto the masseuse when the massage has ended and she has to tell me that it is over when I'm typically in the middle of a maginificent REM cycle.  I'm lying naked under warm towels, the lights are off, the music is playing, the fountain is tinkling and I've been rubbed within an inch of my life (again, not like that, these are professionals) and the massage is over but I don't know it. So the masseuse usually pats me lightly and says something like, "Ok, you're all done Meg." And I always startle a little and am tense because I wonder if I should have known it was over so she didn't have the awkward task of basically waking me up and telling me to pay her. And she may not find that awkward at all, but I project my awkwardness onto her, and then develop sympathy awkwardness and then start chatting incessantly about Kate Middleton.

Door to Door

I hate when people come to my door and try to sell something. Mostly because the only way I know to avoid giving them a direct answer is to revert to a 50s housewife mentality. I usually say something like "Oh, my husband makes all the decisions in our household (I'm an incredible actress) and you'll need to come back and talk with him." And then I spend the remaining part of the day mad at myself for abandoning every single principle, by pretending my vagina makes me incompetent and unable to make decisions, just because I didn't want to tell someone no.

Hint: I will not buy a vacuum, or believe in a God, if it must be sold on my doorstep.

Have a Drink

If you are a woman, and between the ages of 16 and 40, people naturally assume you might be pregnant unless they see you drinking a glass of wine, doing a line of coke or eating Feta cheese. It's annoying to constantly be doing at least one of those just to squelch a rumor, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Haggling

Sometimes, extroverts can make other extroverts uncomfortable with all their extrovertedness. Recently, I helped my mother furniture shop. She's been looking for living room furniture for nearly a year and we finally found her a few pieces she truly loved. Instead of high fiving and going out for champagne, as I do for any successful find, my mother prepared to haggle. I wrung my hands and begged her not to, agreeing to personally pay her the amount she was wanting off the couch and chairs if we could just walk out of the store. But she insisted, explaining that it's never about what you can afford, it's about how much you should have to pay. So back and forth between her and the salesman, with me pacing in the background, resulted in a victory (albeit small) for my mother, after which I promptly went out to my car to dry heave. The car for which I happily paid sticker price.

Just Walk on By

I am extremely paranoid when someone walks behind me. This stems from a childhood spent with a severe limp. And though the limp has since been corrected (in fact, it was corrected nearly 15 years ago), I still hold on to the paranoia that those walking behind me are wondering why I limp. So, in the mornings when I take a brisk walk on the path in the park before work, I almost always come up against this problem. So much so that it's become increasingly clear that no one else suffers from this awkwardness because so many people do it to me; walk directly behind me at the same pace so as never to pass me. And so, rather than spending my walk working through the problems of the day, or reconfiguring the furniture in our family room, I walk with my ass clenched tighter than a fist because I assume the jack ass behind me is analyzing my gait and judging my shoes.

Eye Contact

The close relative to my walking paranoia is passing someone head on in an extremely long hallway. The campus where I work was designed with an eye toward making people feel uncomfortable. The building is constructed of long narrow hallways with no open congregating spaces to break up all the awkwardness. As I'm walking down the 100 yard hallway I hold my breath if I see another soul coming toward me. If I make eye contact too quickly, then I feel the need to hold the gaze until she passes. If I keep my head down to avoid premature eye contact, then I can't accurately judge the optimum window for looking up and smiling. But these are my only two options because I'm sure as hell not gonna turn around in the middle of the hall and walk the other way because I don't want her watching my ass give itself a wedgy from clenching so hard.



I reject society's attempt to divide people into two categories. Men and women. Black and white. Gay and straight. Introverts and extroverts. Cops and robbers.

More often than not, people do not fit into one category perfectly. Plenty of introverts enjoy public speaking, and numerous extroverts sometimes suffer from stage fright. But it helps to feel part of something. A group that understands your discomforts in life, your pain in this world, your place on this Earth. So embrace your group. Whatever that may be. Revel in all your similarities, bask in your hatred of the other side, immerse yourself in the identity.


Just don't get too comfortable.