Last week, there was a call for volunteers to sit at our "booth" or table at the university benefits fair. I imagined sitting at a table in a large conference and meeting space that we have in our building, handing out information to the people who would drift by in ones and twos, answering questions that they might have. I was going to be working with one of my fellow-trainers, who has a similarly wry sense of humor. And it would be okay, although I knew that this was not my preferred situation.
Earlier this week, I learned that my table partner--let's call him Jim--had switched to the afternoon because no one else had signed up for that spot, which left me alone at the "table." Fast forward to this morning. I dress carefully, professionally, and express some anxiety to co-workers, one of whom is kind enough to check to see whether I will be alone. I won't be, as it turns out. But she tells me that there was some strategizing done on the previous day, and briefs me--briefly--on the situation.
Rather than occupying the entire meeting space, our benefits fair occupies half of the area, which is divided to allow for the retiree fair on the other side of the partition. Enter the complication. First, we are giving out tote bags. So people are coming to our booth to get a tote bag because they need it to put their stuff in. But they are not particularly interested in talking to us in the meantime. So now they have to talk to us to get a tote bag. Ugh. Selective distribution of swag. Second, our services are only available to active employees. Retirees are not eligible, though they are likely to be interested. So now I have to make small talk to determine whether someone is eligible for our services, small talk to make sure they are really interested, and then use my judgment about who gets a tote bag and when. So I'm a gatekeeper for the swag, and I have to disappoint people. And I am opposed to both of those things. In fact, I'm the person who has to force myself to talk to the people at the tables to GET the swag, and all the while, I'm trying to sneak away. Why did I think it was a good idea to volunteer? Oh yes. I thought it would look good. Trying to play the game. These things are important.
When I go downstairs, the room--half the size I expected--is lined with tables, with tables in the middle, and people EVERYWHERE. I have to look through the people (okay, maybe it wasn't so dense--not like Mardi Gras or anything) to find our booth. Then, I have to walk around the room to get to it. I realize, to my utter dismay, that there is a huge project-board--like the social studies fair type--on the table. Our materials--flyers, brochures, coaster--are on the table in front of the board. So I have no place to hide. When I walk up, my co-table person is occupied, so I have to stand awkwardly, watching her engage with others, with nothing to hide behind. I am mortified. The next person walks up, and I hear her say, "Our classes are for active employees." The retiree she addresses laughs and makes a joke about being active, but not an employee, and being more active now that she is not an employee. And I am greatly relieved, because to my mind, this is a social blunder. I do not like distinguishing between people, or assuming things about them (retirement status) because of what I observe (that they look older than X age). This is not what I do. Then I notice that my co-table person is not wearing her name badge. Neither am I. I mention it, and she suggests that we take turns getting the badges. I may talk to one person--a few whole sentences!--about what we do, and I might let two more pass by as I try to judge their ages and work status. When it is my turn to get my badge, I mention that I might not be back down if I can find a replacement. My intended repalcement, however, does not bite. I return downstairs, completely agitated. This whole process has taken perhaps 10 minutes. Perhaps less.
So what's the point, you ask? Well, the head of our department is a complete extrovert. She thrives on performance. And frankly, I have my moments, but they are better-defined moments that do not require unstructured interaction. And even then, I overthink and obsess about small mistakes. It's what I do. I spy her going in to the benefits fair as I return. I confess my unease, my anxiety, and I know that my expression and manner conveys my level of discomfort. She is sympathetic--but asks, "Even though you teach?" Even though I teach I have this anxiety? Indeed. Teaching is different. And she has no idea how I beat myself up when I teach, but that is a different story. When I teach, I know who I am supposed to be. It is about persona. And yet, in some ways, I'm not who I should be when I teach (when I train). I am not an expert. And as a trainer, that's what I'm expected to be. But when I stand at a table (not behind) and hand out materials, my role is less clear. I want to help people, and I can answer questions. But I do not want to foist myself upon them, and I certainly don't want to be in a gatekeeper position, assessing who they are. I'm not even crazy about greeting them first. I like to give people space--because I would like them to give me space. But selling our services is not at all about giving people space--and it's not about anything like teaching. A teaching (or training) persona will not help in this situation. Nor will being myself, because myself would never do the things required of me.
I was able to escape, and I felt immediate relief. I have never felt quite this level of anxiety in any social situation--possibly because when I have been most uncomfortable, like when attending conferences alone, I was able to slink away and hide out of site. I was not required to talk to people. My supervisor's supervisor, probably feeling like she was shielding me, said that she would say I wasn't feeling well. That's not entirely false--I wasn't feeling well at all. But I'm not exactly ashamed of feeling the anxiety. It was a false situation, and I am actually a pretty straightforward person. I was being put in a position of being impolite, unhospitable--by my rather stringent Southern New Orleans standards; being rude to an older, grand-parently person is not done, and while I wasn't exactly asked to be rude, well, I just wanted to give them a darned bag and answer questions. *sigh* Part of me feels that I should have stuck it out. But that part of me is only able to feel that way now that I'm out of the situation.
So I'm left thinking about the differences. I do get anxious when I teach sometimes, but I have prepped and prepared. I have props and crutches. I know what I know, and what I don't. I would say that unexpected questions don't phase me, but that depends on what I'm teaching. When I'm teaching Adobe Acrobat Pro, they definitely phase me. I'm not sure if it's exactly about authority, because I had a kind of authority in the booth. Maybe the "booth" authority feels more false to me, or more authoritative. I can deny you a tote bag based on who I think you are; if I'm offering you information or learning, I'm offering it to everyone, and I'm offering everything I have--with no strings attached.
