…Who Hates Phone Calls.

Hate is a strong word. But bear with me. I know it’s weird, or maybe it’s not. I’ve heard it both ways. Anymore I’m sure it’s not necessarily strange what with the way technology has made us more and more impersonal. Instead of ringing doorbells we text “I’m here.” Instead of phone calls…well you get the point I’m sure. But that’s not the point. My issue with phone calls dates back before this surge of technology that has mutated society. I mean…I’m only 24…so the timeline is pretty close, but anyway…I’m not getting up on any soapboxes. I’m just here to share in my weird anxiety.

I know I’m not the only one. The people in my life seem to fall in three categories (that I can think of at the moment). The ones who don’t get it and give me a hard time about it, the ones that don’t get it and don’t give me a hard time about it, and the ones that either secretly(or not) struggle with the same issue. And let me clarify, it’s not all phone calls I hate. If it’s to or from anyone I’m comfortable with, it’s really not a big deal. But strangers…oh man…making a call to strangers tightens a knot in my stomach that just waits around limp for the opportunity to tighten once more.

I think it started when I was a child (I say to my imaginary therapist) or more likely a pre-teen. I hated answering phone calls at home that weren’t for me because I didn’t want to A.] Get mistaken for my mom (as was beginning to happen) or B.] Get trapped into an awkward small talk conversation with someone who isn’t even calling to talk to me. I’ve always been a shy one. I’ve come out of my shell immensely over the years, but back then…oh man…and making phone calls? Forget about it. I could forgo eating pizza if it meant avoiding making a phone call.

Switching gears for a moment — A definition of irony is “a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.” So it would be deemed ironic that my first real job was as a weekend receptionist in a senior home (a doubly ironic job for me, but that’s not the point of this post). A receptionist. A person whose main responsibility is to answer a phone. It wasn’t a job I had or would ever apply for. It was basically handed to me during a time when finding any other job was proving fruitless. Life has a funny way of forcing you out of your comfort zone. The job was probably a blessing in disguise. If not for it, I would probably be way worse in the present day with phones than I am now.

So let’s flash forward to the present I’ve alluded to. Today had a number instances that defined where I’ve been and how far I’ve come with making calls.

At my current job, phone calls aren’t common. Occasionally the phone rings, and sometimes I have to be the one to answer it because I’m closest to it and even then I get a twinge of nerves bothering me. Why? Who knows. Years of conditioning? The phone is never for me anyway, so I just have to be the middle man for the person on the phone and the person they’re searching for, and if they’re not there it’s over quickly. But at this job, clients have prescriptions (as we all tend to at some point) and they need to be refilled. So how do they get refilled? Call it in of course. It took 8 months of working there but that duty finally fell upon me the other day. I was talked through it, and it was relatively simple but it was just one med. Today…about 8 meds needed to be called in and the lead supervisor casually said to me “Can you call them in?” She is unaware of my phone-a-phobia (<<probably not the technical term). I was in our little office and she was out of the room but in hearing range. I should probably mention that when I do muster up the courage to make calls, I need to be closed off in a room to feel remotely comfortable doing it. But I woman-ed up, stared the phone down for a few minutes and did it. Conquering my anxiety and wishing I would just get over having it to begin with!

So later…I get home from work to find a piece of mail. A new charge card for a store. I open it up and there’s a sticker that says “Call this number to confirm receipt.” It’s really quite sad the way the word “Call” whether heard or read sends a feeling of dread through me. This time it did because I recall from the first time I had to activate my card, I didn’t have the luxury of calling an automated system. No, these weirdos use….real people! So I figured I might as well get it over with, because if I don’t now I probably won’t for a while (See that? See that progress!) I lock myself up in my room and make the call. The person who answers is friendly and all and we get my card activated, but wait! This company partners with another that if subscribed to helps prevent identity fraud. You can also check your credit scores (and blah blah, been through this before) and the first month is free, and if you sign up with them the store my card is for will send me a 20 dollar gift card. Even if I don’t continue with the other company beyond the first free month I still get the card. All I would have to do is call to cancel my subscription. There’s that word again. I was ready to say “No forget it” on that fact alone. But as the representative continued on trying to sell me on it, I had a brief conversation with myself. “Self,” I said. “It’s a 20 dollar gift card…for FREE. All it costs is a phone call later.” –A phone call I don’t want to have to make– “FREE MONEY.” –But a phone call…– ……So I should be getting a gift card in the next couple weeks. Progress!

It’s just insane, and I recognize that it is. The weird anxiety that comes with calls. I’ve only shared here a minute amount of my thoughts and experiences that have to do with phone calls, but I have years worth of them. Like the time I answered a call from someone looking for my dad and thought maybe I was my mom until I said otherwise and then the caller said “Oh whew, it’s a good thing I wasn’t like ‘hey remember that time we met up at a hotel and…'” and I had NO IDEA who I was talking to. Color me disturbed. Then flash forward a few years to my first relationship and it took a couple of months of dating my boyfriend before I felt comfortable calling him (as opposed to texting). God I’ve gotten so much better over the years but still have so far to go.

It’s a little sad, but what else can we do but to accept our strange quirks and learn to either live with them or learn how to conquer them one day (or call) at a time!