Is it Me? in New Beginnings

I’ve encountered a surprising benefit from going my GJJ classes, human contact. I’ve long accepted that I’m a monkish type of person. Left to my own devices, I could stay home and read, watch T.V., and generally just be by myself without missing human contact. One of the things I’ve enjoyed about class is that it gives me some interaction I didn’t know I missed. I’m surprised the human-factor of it doesn’t overwhelm me, but I suspect that everything that because everything in class centers around learning a particular technique, my own social awkwardness of not knowing what to say or do or feeling uncomfortable doesn’t arise.

Am I really being unreasonable to prefer my own space? I wonder if all the things that drive me nuts about dealing with other people are just me overreacting to non-issues.

I’ll share a particular story to illustrate my point. I’d also like to preface this story by acknowledging that I’m very bladder shy. Normally, that condition is just a discomfort when another guy is standing next to me at the urinal, but I have a coworker (who I’ll call “Ian”) who makes me want to fly into a rage whenever I run into him in the men’s room. The handful of times I’ve walked into the men’s room to find Ian already standing at a urinal, he looks over his shoulder to see who just walked into the room. Basically, he’s already aggravated my bladder shyness by looking at me, triggering my fear of being observed while peeing. Why he can’t just stare blankly at the wall is beyond me. I can’t turn around and leave because he’ll correctly think my leaving had something to do with him, and then he might silently resent me or worse, actually ask me about it. So, I proceed to the adjacent urinal and stand next to him uncomfortably, praying for time to speed up. He finishes his business, and all he’d have to do is wash his hands then leave. Does he do that? Does he do that?! No! He goes to the sink, washes his hands, rinses out his mouth, splashes his face, dries his hands and face, and finally cleans his glasses. The entire time I’m screaming in my mind, “FOR GOD’S SAKE QUIT PRIMPING IN THE MIRROR AND LEAVE!” I’ve learned accommodate by making sure he’s at his desk before going to the men’s room.

It’s not just him. I have another coworker, who I’ll call “Gene.” Whenever I run into Gene, he effectively demands a conversation. I can’t even pass him in the hall without him stopping me. He’ll say, “Wait, Rob. I have a question for you.” I’ll think to myself, “Of course, Gene, you always have a question to make sure my trip back to my desk takes 10 minutes longer than necessary.” It’s always something inane, too. Once he caught me in the hall and asked me, “Do you know anything about them hiring a new inventory manager at Sandersville ‘cause I saw that they posted a new job listing on the website.” I’ll tell him everything I know, which isn’t much. More so, anyone could probably guess what’s going on. The previous employee left, so the company is looking for the replacement. That’s probably what happened, Gene; it’s not rocket surgery. What else could have happened. Not being satisfied that he’s eaten enough of my time, he’ll then ask me, “So how’s business?” I don’t know what he’s after. How do I respond to that? “Business is fine, Gene.” If something groundbreaking were going on, management would have already issued a statement on it, and you’d know as much as I did.

Gene reminds me of another coworker, “Gilbert,” at one of my previous jobs. Gilbert would do the exact same thing as Gene. However, Gilbert almost had what I can only describe as a Jedi mind trick in making me talk to him. I couldn’t even walk through the break room without him stopping me. I don’t even remember how he did it, just remember he’d stop me from wherever I was going and ask “So how are things goin’?” It was always an uncomfortable exchange. I just didn’t have anything to say and my responses indicated as much, but he interpreted that to mean he just had to pry harder.

Me: “Everything’s going fine, Gilbert.”
Gilbert: “How’s [blah blah blah] going?”
Me: “It’s gong fine. Nothing new to report?”
Him: “And how about [blah blah blah]? Anything new going on there?”
Me: “Not really. Just doing what I gotta do.”

This would go on for what felt like an eternity until I he finally gave up. Once, I went to the bathroom on the floor below mine. I went down to that floor precisely because I like to avoid running into anyone I knew. I was washing my hands and about to return to my desk when guess who walked in. Good old, Gilbert. I flinched for a second, but then I realized I was about to leave, and he obviously needed to use the restroom, so I didn’t have anything to worry about, did I? I kid you not. He walked up to one of the stalls and was just about to go in. Then, he stopped, turned around, walked right up to me and said, “So how are things goin’?” Of course, I was screaming in my thoughts, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Come on, Gilbert. Don’t you have to use the bathroom? Why are you making me do this song and dance again. You have a wife; can’t you get your conversational needs met from her?”

Those are just a few examples, but I’ve taken stock of all those previous instances, and I honestly can’t tell if I’m being reasonable or if I’m just pathologically antisocial.