Thursday, June 30, 2011

talked out

i feel talked out

lately i have been carrying on at the office, answering telephones and writing down messages like "rt tooth sore. sensitive to cold. needs to be glued back." very professional messages such as this, might lead you to ask the question, girl, what are you doing answering phones in a dentist office?

you might also wonder why a girl who makes her husband order the pizza, talk at sonic, and pay all the bills, is handling making appointments, phone calls, and billing other peoples insurance?

dr. westover, if you are reading this, don't lose faith in me.

but isnt it funny the way my comfort zone no longer exists?

a year ago, only a year ago, i was scrambling for a day job--kurt would push me out the door into a random establishment, yelling encouragement such as "you look cute! of course they will hire you" or "tell them you wrote a thesis!" as one may have told me, ahem, 5 years ago, a liberal arts degree and no experience grants you just that: a liberal arts degree (and a pretty way of talking that others probably won't be able to understand) a thesis? who do you think YOU are little lady? Charlotte Bronte?

needless to say my smallish voice and shy way of not looking at you directly in the eye for too awfully long, didn't insight complete confidence in my selling, teaching, govering, or even peir-one-ing abilities.  looking for a job is one of the most humbling experiences.  its kind of like you are a sorry little telemarketer, who gets hung up on relentlessly all day long. i feel bad for their self confidence.  random telemarketer, if YOU are reading this, take heart.  we do (maybe) need you after all.

zip to the present
i have a job, and on most days i can do it.  on most days i can correctly identify your appointment, not choke on the phone, translate your bill, and pretend as if insurance companies are my best friends.  i can sweet talk you into not having an appointment, paying your bill, and convincing you that its probably best for you to come back in four months to have your teeth checked again. on most days.

on other days
i find myself trampling around the muddy grass in search of dr. westover's car, which is literally smarter than i, clicking the keys in hopes of a beep. you may find me shaking at the wheel as i tread cautiously to his son's grade school, where i try to gracefully holler his name out the window, and not look like a kidnapper in the process.  i also may or may not find myself rejoicing with blackened hands that the toner is now working, asking the FedEx man how to apply the shipping label, or screaming gibberish at the sweet lady who fixed my credit-card-thing. 

all in all
it is good. it is good to know i can do it. it is BETTER to know when i can't, there is someone to ask, someone to help, and someone to laugh with.

cheers to a lack of comfort in my very comfortable life.

1 comment:

  1. if you ever forget, i love you. you make me smile.