This is another one of those posts that either you'll get or you won't. If you didn't get <I was going to link to my bad-day-to-be-an-introvert post, but a) I don't remember which one it was because "It's a bad day to be an introvert" would have been a great title but I didn't think of it until just now, and b) I still haven't figured out the linking> then just walk away from this. Check out what
thebloggess.com or wilwheaton.net are writing today.
(Look at that, y'all. I totally figured out the linking. woot, me! So I guess only a) really applies now. And it looks like Wheaton is doing Adverse Childhood Experiences today, so if you think you're normal blogs aren't for you today. And why are you even on the internet if you're normal? This is our safe play area, thankyouverymuch.)
When I got home from work on Saturday a payment overdue notice form my water, etc., company was waiting for me. If had been a person, I would have said, "Rude," with as much gen-z snark as I can muster (that's a lot of snark, y'all) and given them my death glare. Librarians know how to death glare. We perfect it in library school. You do not want a death glare from me.
If it were a person . . .
But it was a computer-generated automatic letter. And faced with that kind of threat I, well, I don't know how to explain what I do. Outsiders (meaning people who live outside of my head) would probably say I crumple.
Note that I'm not panicking because I can't afford paying the $44 bill + $10 late fee. Tho' there have been times when it would have meant I couldn't afford groceries until my next paycheck. I'm not freaking because I have to call and actually talk to someone on the phone. I don't like doing that. I may be gen-x, but I'm with the younger generations who do all official conversations by chat or e-mail. But every week I call patrons with overdue library books and I've even worked in a call center. So while I don't like calling, I can do it without too much pre-call warm-up and prep.
Heart rate and blood pressure shoot from dead slug (my usual resting level) to hummingbird on cocaine. Breathing is not an option. I think maybe my heart pounds so hard and so fast and so very very hard (yes, I know I already said hard. I'm repeating for effect. <eye roll>) there's just not room for my lungs to inflate or even exist. I try to get some control, and in trying I end up crying. Ugly crying, I'm sure. It doesn't feel pretty. Lots of snot.
(It is nice to occasionally ditch a lot of the snot my sinuses keep on tap for allergy days. I prefer malai kabob and garlic naan to panic, tho. An intense jerk chicken sandwich is also good.)
Before that all starts, in the first nanosecond, my brain runs through several hundred "how did this happen and what will it take to fix it" scenarios. That's the part no one sees. They just see the tears and snot. The almost instant crazy overreaction.
The water, etc., company isn't open on weekends, of course. There's just the emergency number to call if the sewer backs up into your washing machine or other gross water-related crisis. (Ohemgee I need a shower just from typing that last sentence.) So I had all weekend to fret and crumple.
Remember back two paragraphs ago when I said my brain ran through many many many scenarios in the first unmeasurably small amount of time upon reading the late payment notice? Of course you do; it was just two paragraphs ago. Just look up maybe three inches from your current eyeline. Anyway, imagine how many scenarios and their subtle mutations I got through from 4:30 pm Saturday to 8:04 am Monday.
You'd be a crazed, blotchy snot-monster, too. Any sane person would.
The story ends on a much less exciting note. I spoke with a very nice woman who checked my account and verified that I had indeed paid my water bill (e-check) and owed nothing. They noticed some things didn't post correctly after the past due noticed printed and manually fixed several accounts, including mine. (This is one of the scenarios + one of the very few simple versions of resolving it that my brain considered.) She apologized that it had (obviously even on the phone) upset me so much.
Some of you sneered. I know you did. I told you right at the start this post wasn't for you, but you stayed and now you feel all warm and superior because of course it was a simple mistake and of course it all worked out nicely and what was the big hairy deal anyway?
But some of you didn't. It was a completely ridiculous panic to what was probably never going to be more than a minor annoyance (I had a scenario that involved long-term low-key embezzlement a la the plot of Janet's Evanovich's High Five and I had to go through months of getting someone at KSP's fraud unit to believe me and then there was the trial . . . seriously, it was years and I had to restrain my brain every time I got to a point figuring out how I would get water and sewer and sanitation services during it all and aaaaaahhh!). And those of you who didn't sneer, you understand. You squirmed as soon as you read "payment overdue notice". Maybe you ran through the what ifs and how dos, and if you did, you probably teared up or sweated or shook -- and it's not even your payment overdue notice.
To you, the nonsneerers, thank you. Thank you so much for understanding. I'm really sorry I didn't put a warning at the beginning of this post. Blame the flop sweat on me. And please do come back. We need to stick together, to tell each other, :I understand," because the rest of the world will just sneer at our tears.
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