The wow of silence

The wow of silence

Do you ever get to a point in your life where just hate everyone you work with? It’s that point where your only options are calling into work or throwing yourself in front of a train. Both options, for me, really weren’t at all possible. I like my job and I like my life, I just couldn’t bear going to work for another week.

In the last few weeks before I spontaneously hatched this plan, I just felt powerless and alone. I felt like everyone was targeting me even when I did nothing that deserved being targeted for. My bestfriend would tell me that they would ask her why she hung out with me because I’m obviously a lunatic. One coworker went as far as saying that everyone thinks that when I go home, I torture my cat. Torment, yes. Torture, never. But in all honesty, she torments me equally, hiding behind that shower curtain only to jump out at me.

So, dreading going to work and seeing the people that I just hated, I just stopped talking to one coworker, continuing to customers and then I found a small notebook in my bag where I began only writing notes, inspired by the Dwayne character from Little Miss Sunshine. Other moments in my life were turning out as if they were scenes from films, how could this not work?

I made certain rules. I would only speak if it was someone from the office on the phone, or make and take phone calls that were part of my job (dairy orders, supply orders, etc). I wouldn’t ignore the duties of my job and would try to communicate effectively without speech. This included an array of eyebrow movements, hand movements (waving), mouthing words and using the notebook if body language had failed me. For explanation, I put up a sign that said, “Morning Customers: Katie has come down with a bad case of the writer’s block. Please excuse her lack of words; it’s part of the ‘creative process.’” Which is partially true, I was suffering from writer’s block. (The stress from work did not help).

For the most part, this worked. People, who read the sign, laughed and understood what I needed to do. People, who did not read the sign, treated me as if I were deaf. It felt equally lonely and sad having to watch them point at the sign and use large mouth movements that didn’t equal any words. And what if I were deaf, I thought. Do these people treat every deaf person like they have a below average IQ? I grew up in a large deaf community, I’m pretty sure I never talked to a deaf person like they were stupid. The latter became frustrating with the onset of a daylong headache and exhaustion trying to communicate without words.

When the afternoon shift came around, the only people I had physically spoken to were the people in the office and the woman who calls for the dairy order. At least 400 transactions were made and I spoke to no one, as much as I wanted to. My friend Riki was less than thrilled about this. I showed her a note I wrote, “I’m tired of being treated like I’m doing something wrong.” She responded to the effect that I could talk to her. Soon after, I left to go home.

I told my roommate, Sarah, what I did. She said she understood but that it won’t work to solve my problems at work. I felt like this plan would work, like everyone would finally understand that it wasn’t okay to treat people this way. Just periodically stop talking to others because they were upset. My problem was that I felt like I talked it to death. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m doing something wrong” has been said at least twenty times.

I’m not going to say that I didn’t do or say things that weren’t appropriate. I did. I have flaws and some bad habits. I’m figuring out what is causing all this. At first I thought it was transition from moving from a small city to a big city. When that feeling passed, I started working on myself, testing and trying to control my limits. Ultimately it came down to social anxiety. I was told that I become a different person at work, this showboating performer that becomes unleashed to my customer fans. It’s like the Hulk. At home and with select people I’m comfortable around, I’m a little mellower, a bit silly but reasonably in control of my emotions. But throw me out into the discomfort zone and I’m a completely different person who really has no control over her emotions.

The headaches got worse the second day of speechlessness; I popped two aspirins. The first hour, my manager, who had no clue what was going on, didn’t question it. He was half asleep. I’d write him notes, he’d respond. The second hour, he wasn’t as pleased.

Normally, Mikey and I can communicate without words. He’s always half a step ahead of me at work; we don’t even need to look at each other to know what the other person needs. When he realized I wouldn’t even speak to customers, purposely, during the largest rush of the day he got agitated.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, as I was trying to ask him if he needed help putting a box up in the loft. I finally spoke, “I was asking if you needed help.” Later, when no one was around, I stammered, “Do you really think I like not talking?” He shrugged his shoulders. It seemed like he didn’t really care, like everyone else. I explained to him why I wasn’t speaking and he reluctantly understood.

I resumed speechlessness and customers who didn’t know me continued to treat me as if I were deaf, completely ignoring the sign I put up explaining that I had writer’s block because I was metaphorically without a voice, that I did not have a voice to speak with. It was a cute excuse. I could get away with this with the regulars, but felt easily frustrated with those who didn’t know who I was.

An hour or so later, I went out across the street to get lunch. I broke down and spoke to the lady behind the counter, much like my customers do with me when they are upset. When I returned, there was a line backed up to the door. “Can I help whose next?” I yelled out of habit. A regular blurted, “oh you seemed so quiet lately!” Damn it! I lasted a day and a half.

I was so angry with myself. I felt powerless and out of control, once again. When I did begin talking to others again, it felt strange. The headaches began going away. The thing is, I liked the silence and the ease of not being forced to talk. I liked being left alone; that’s all I really wanted. I also wanted to make point that it really isn’t okay for people to just stop talking to others without warning or reason. Every minute of silence hurt, it’s unnatural especially for one who yearns to communicate to others constantly.