Apparently, I'm not the only one.First,
here is a recent post to the BBspot blog. The relevant part starts in the fourth paragraph. I found that very interesting when I read it, partially because I have the same problem, and partially because it's a common geek stereo type that is actually true in many cases (introversion).
It also reminded me of a blog posting by Mike "John Gabriel" Krahulik, the artist of Penny Arcade, in which he described his paralyzing anxiety (I'm too lazy to find the link; get it yourself). The solution given to him was anti-anxiety medication. The problem was he was too anxious about the medcine to take it, and delayed doing so for months.
Anyways, the gist of all this is that it inspired me to post this article that I wrote last March, but never posted:
::Begin Transmission::
Why do I have a fear of phones?
Ok, so I'm sitting here at my desk at work. I need to call my dentist to confirm my appointment, and to respond to the message they left me. There's just one problem: that word
call.
For some reason, it would be easier for me to walk down to the parking lot, get in my car, and
drive the three miles to my dentist so I could walk in the front door and ask the receptionist, face to face, what they needed to speak with me about.
I don't know why this is, but I have a fear of telephones. I have had it for a number of years, although I don't remember since when. I can remember
not having it (when I was a small child), but the carefree days of my youth are long gone. Since I don't know why, I'll just go ahead and blame it on Dave and indulge a 15-year-old grudge, wherein Dave criticized me for saying "what?" a lot when I was talking to our baseball coach (who had a thick Spanish accent that was hard enough for me to understand in person) on the phone. "Don't say 'what', say 'pardon'," he said (That's when Dave was in his "criticism" phase). That probably has nothing to do with the real reason, but it's good enough for me.
This, of course, ends up being a problem when one of my primary job functions involves talking to people through the ominous onyx object sitting beside the monitor on my desk. I can handle it well enough when someone is calling me. Even though it's unpleasant, I just take a deep breath an buck up the courage. But when I have to call someone else, I tend to freeze up. If a client calls and leaves me a message, I normally check our database to see if we have his e-mail address. If we do, I will almost invariably reply via e-mail, even though this could be construed as poor customer support (a telephone message deserves a telephone reply, after all).
When it comes to my home phone, I very frequently don't answer it, if I don't want to (which is all the time). One time (at band camp) Christine called while I was eating dinner and, logically, I didn't answer it. She later called to chew me out for not taking her call (The Murloc told her I was home). Also, when The Murloc got home, she also chewed me out for not taking the call. (Me: "I was eating dinner." Murloc: "But what if it was me, calling in an emergency." Me (a day later, because of my wonderful debate skills, which allow me to think up the utterly perfect, logical, and irrefutable retort the next day): "That's why I was listening for the answering machine.") That exchange actually inspired
this blog post.
The Internet, for me, is a godsend. The sheer volume of information I can get from it without having to
talk to anyone is wonderful. I can shut myself out of the world and still operate. I don't know what I would have done, had I been born 15 years earlier. And, oddly enough, if the Internet fails me, I'll usually just go without the information rather than ask a person what I want to know.
There was a Pearls Before Swine comic strip from a few years ago, where Rat is making a list of the best improvements in technology. His list was something like "Fax machines, so I don't have to talk to people at the post office. ATMs, so I don't have to talk to bank tellers...." Goat pointed out how anti-social he was being and Rat made some brilliant witty retort which I have since forgotten (just try to imagine it; you'll really laugh). I realized (again, some time after reading the strip), that Rat was describing my perfect world. One where I interact only with machines, never with people.
I'm not sure why I prefer machine interaction so heavily to people-interaction (I have been known to wait in line at the ticket machine at movie theaters, even when there's no line for the box office). I usually tell myself that it's because I know the machine doesn't judge me. It won't laugh at me or look at me like I'm stupid if I make a mistake. It just happily trudges along, doing exactly what it's told. There's something reassuring in that predictability. People are an Unkown. You don't know, when walking up to a stranger, if they're going to be nice or rude. I always have to be on my guard.
Maybe this is why virtually
all of my social interaction is
through a computer. Most of my current friends were made from the safety of the big glowing box. Sure, there are still the risks of people laughing at me, but at least those people never
see me. I can hide behind the
anonymity (crudity warning) of the Internet. Now I've met a number of my friends from the game in real life, and yes, I do get anxious when meeting them for reals. Oddly, I'm perfectly comfortable interacting with them in a game, but when we have a get-together?
Oh noes!It's also interesting to note that I play as an antisocialite too. I avoid groups with people I don't know whenever possible. In quests where you have to kill a unique named mob, and someone else is waiting to kill it, I would rather wait for them to kill it, let the mob respawn, then kill it myself, instead of asking the person for a group. If
Nev is in a group with me, and wants me to invite someone in the area to our group, I will almost always pass group control to her, so she can invite them.
It's interesting to note that I make friends in game as the same way as in real life. That is, through someone else. I think it was my senior year in college, where I counted how many friends I had at school that I had made independently (without an introduction from someone else). I think the number I arrived at was 2. Yep, that's right. Two. Of all the dozens of friends (many of whom were close) I did meet, only two were me going up to that person and saying "hi". (Of course, Tom was one, and he introduced me to most of my other good friends at school.) Now The Murloc has that role. All of the friends I have now were made through her. I suppose this might be how most people operate, making most of their friends through another friend, but I'll bet, though, if you graphed what percentage of a person's friends were made independently versus the extroversion of that person, what you would get would be a perfect correlation between introversion/extroversion and percentage of independent friends.
"But Joe," I hear you saying. "You don't seem the anxious type. You're always
such fun to be around and are always the life of the party." I then hear you fall apart, laughing, because you just can't say that last part with a straight face. It's true, though. One thing I've learned while being an introvert is how not to act like an introvert. Sure, I can put on a fake smile and pretend to enjoy myself when at an event with people I hardly know. I've become quite good at it. But deep down, the urge to just
run never really goes away.
I'd better stop here before I gradually shift onto another topic
again. I could keep this up for pages, talking about my insecurities. I guess it's important to remember I am (at least I think I am) a normal, well-adjusted person. And as much as I always
feel like I'm about to have a panic attack, I never actually
have had one, so I must be stronger than I give myself credit for. (But if I'm acknowledging that, how can it be more than I give credit for?) Either that, or I'm just a big whiner, complaining about how much I hate social interaction, but without a
real psychological phobia to back it up.
Anyways, I think I've accomplished the goal of this post, which was to find a way to delay calling my dentist for another couple hours.
::End transmission::
I realized since writing this, that there are several other ways me telephonophobia has affected me. One is that I rely on the Murloc significantly to take care of things for me. Some examples: my car is overdue for an oil change because I need her to make an appointment to take it in for me; after The Roommate moved out, we continued to pay for cable service for three TVs for about six months because I couldn't call Cox to ask them to discontinue one of the lines, and needed her to do it for me; one of the reasons that I'm wearing glasses which are 8+ years old, and several powers to weak, is that I can't find an optometrist (not that I'm looking and can't find any; I can't bring myself to look). I don't rely on her to do these things for me because I'm lazy; I rely on her because I would honestly rather pay for an extra cable box, drive on squeaky brakes, and squint at my computer all day than talk to someone on the phone.