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Pamela Pierson
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Grateful For That Kiss
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Making Friends
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One: Change
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Two: Balance
Issue Three: Spring
Issue Four: Goddess
Issue Five: Bravery
On a recent
cold, blustery Sunday, I took out all my art supplies and
started writing postcards to my postcard buddies around the
world. Once I assembled a nice little stack, I realized that
if they were to be posted on Monday, I would need to purchase
stamps. The thought of leaving my nice warm cocoon dampened my
spirit a bit, but the excitement of sending those colorful
postcards through the mail sent me hunting for my car keys.
Once
outside, I had this deep feeling that I should just go back
inside, make some coffee, and enjoy a solitary, quiet
afternoon. But then I thought of all those wonderful
postcards, and I pushed the thought out of my head as I put
the keys in my car door. As I left the neighborhood, another
message hit me: Go to the Warm Springs post office. Since I
was in the wrong lane to get there, I decided to go to the
post office in my own town, about 5 miles down the road.
As I drove
down the main boulevard, I couldn’t shake this feeling that
I was doing something wrong. Yet, I just didn’t have the
energy to make a U-turn, and go back the way I came. I
continued down the road, and came to the first red light. I
stopped, and waited for my turn to go.
After a few
seconds at the light, a police car pulled up behind me. Fear
entered my soul, as I remembered that I had neglected to put
my new registration sticker on my license plate. I prayed for
the light to turn green before the cop would notice, but too
late… I could see her eyes were locked on to my plate. My
stomach began to churn.
As
nervousness crept through my whole body, the light turned
green, and I eased on the gas. I made sure I was going the
speed limit, and forged ahead. The police car stayed a car
length behind me for one block, watching my every move. All I
could think of was that I had to get away from this cop.
Either she was going to pull me over, or I was going to have a
nervous breakdown. I saw my chance to escape at an upcoming
left turn lane. I took it.
I signaled,
and got into the left turn lane. She quickly fell right behind
me. “This is it,” I thought, and waited for the flashing
lights to come on. They didn’t. Why was she still following
me?
I spied
another left turn ahead, signaled, and turned. She followed
me. Now I was deep within a residential area, and I knew
without a doubt she was on me. I could see her on the
speakerphone in her white car, and I thought maybe I should
just pull to the side of the road and get it over with.
Just as I was about to pee my pants from fear, she made
a U-turn, and headed in the opposite direction. I went a
little further, then pulled over to compose myself.
Even though
I knew my car was registered, and she couldn’t have nailed
me for anything other than being stickerless, I was shaking
with fear. I have never been pulled over for anything, and I
didn’t want to start now. I calmed myself down, and headed
back toward the post office, scouting for police cars the
whole way there and back.
As I was
unlocking the door to enter the safety of my home, the phone
was ringing. I ran through the door, and picked up the
receiver. My fiancé was on the line, and could hear the panic
still in my voice. “What’s wrong?,” he asked. I relayed
the story to him, and he started chuckling. “You do realize
that nothing would’ve happened to you, right?” “Yes,”
I answered. He called me a goober for worrying so much, and we
both laughed and then ended the call.
As the day
wore on, I found that I couldn’t shake my fear from my near
encounter with the law. The more I thought about it, the more
I realized that close call with that cop was a perfect
reflection of my standard approach to conflict resolution.
When confronted with a problem, I panic, avoid it and the
people involved in it, and try to become invisible. Of course,
without amazing super powers or the help of a special effects
team, it’s kind of hard to just disappear.
I also
realized that even though I trust my inner voice, I often
ignore it, thinking I know better. “No, Inner Voice, why
would you think that the Warm Springs Post Office is a much
better choice than Milpitas? There is no reason for that…
I’ll just go my own way.”
“Oh,
lookie here, Missy. You didn’t listen to me, and now
you’re being followed by a cop. Maybe you’ll listen to me
next time, Smarty Pants.”
But I
don’t, just like I also don’t change my conflict
resolution pattern. Oh I want to, really I do. I want to
always trust and follow my inner voice, and I always want to
hit a problem head on, but I seem to be stuck in this
self-destructive cycle of ignorance, panic, and silence. I
realized that I really wanted things to be different this
year. I wanted to break the cycle, no, I would
break the cycle! The next time I got confronted with
something, I was not going to run away.
As if
hearing my resolution, God plopped a big old opportunity right
in my lap the very next day. For what seemed like the
gazillionth time, I found myself a target of the good old boys
network at work. Founded in 1958, the company I work for is
fairly small in size, and hasn’t expanded its world outlook
since its inception. Consequently, women in the company are
treated as if it is still 1958, and are frequently expected to
pitch in administratively, no matter what their job title,
experience, or tenure. So, despite the fact that I am not a
secretary or an administrative assistant, I found myself
expected to type up a ten page, sloppily hand-written
marketing piece, just because I was the only woman in my
department at the time an executive decided he needed this
done.
I found
myself infuriated. I am a marketing writer, not a typist. We
have a receptionist on duty from 8-5 who desperately and
actively seeks work. Yet, because she was inconveniently
located downstairs, and I was conveniently located upstairs,
not far from the executive’s office, I was the one singled
out to act as typist.
I sat there
and stared at this document that had been hastily left in my
chair, while I listened in shock to the directions left for me
on voicemail. My mouth hung open like a dead man’s, as I
stared in horror at this document, while realizing I was
expected to act as this executive’s secretary. There was
absolutely no way in hell I was going to do this! I decided
right then and there to quit my job and leave this God
forsaken place once and for all.
I started
sorting through all the piles on my desk, and began packing up
my personal effects. I planned on being finished by the time
my boss returned from his luxurious two-hour lunch. As anger
filled my soul, a still, small voice told me to calm down and
just type the document.
No way! I
threw a few more items in a box, and again, this inner voice
urged me to stop what I was doing, and not to go any further
until I spoke with my boss.
What? Talk
to my boss? Uh-uh. No way, no how. I was leaving. This small
voice persisted, and I finally stopped what I was doing to
take a walk. Bet that voice wasn’t going to follow me
outside… wrong.
As I walked
around the building, a calm filled my spirit. All of a sudden
I realized that I was back into my same pattern of conflict
resolution: I was avoiding confrontation by packing up to
leave. That was no way to live my life.
I went back
into the building, determined to do the right thing. I found
that my determination did not alleviate the fear, though. In
fact, panic mode had totally taken over my body, and I found
myself wishing I had worn a pair of Depends.
Without
warning, my boss appeared in my cubical. He asked if I had any
problems with the assignment. I stared him right in the eyes,
and through my fear I found myself saying that not only did I
have a problem with it, I was infuriated by this task’s
implication. Then, surprisingly calmly, I explained to him
what angered me about the assignment. Amazingly, this opened
up a fruitful discussion, which ended with my agreeing to type
this document, and his agreeing to not let it happen again.
When he left my cubicle, I realized the power of confrontation. I felt calm, happy, and in control. I hadn’t avoided the problem by running away. I met it face on, just like I promised myself I would that day I thought I was going to outrun that policewoman. And, guess what? The next typing assignment that came up went to somebody else. Maybe she needs to learn my new trick… I think I’ll go over and tell her before she has to learn it on the lam, like I did.
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