May 26, 2004
Your Lips Move (But I Can't Hear What You Say)

Today is Day #17 of Secra's Temporary Unfortunate Hearing Loss  --  cause still unknown  --  and I am now officially going stark-raving bonkers. 

I have a feeling that it's having a similar effect on the people around me.

When I worked at The Totem Pole Company, a few years back, there was a senior manager for whom I provided occasional unenthusiastic admin support  --  the Vice President of Business and Financial Development  [privately I called him "The VP of BFD"]   --  who had the incredibly annoying habit of asking you to repeat everything you ever said to him.  It didn't matter if you were speaking to him on the phone, or standing four inches in front of him  ...  whether you were conversing in a normal speaking voice, or shouting at him through a bullhorn  ...  whether you were delivering bad news about the Bayview account, or informing him that his daughter, The Princess of WTF, was holding on Line Four   ...  his automatic response to everything you said was "What's that?"

Secra: "I've finished typing up your cost proposal.  Did you want that to go out regular mail or California Overnight?"
The VP of BFD:   "What's that?"

Secra: "Your wife called. She wants to know if you would prefer the single king/non-smoking or the double queen/smoking with an ocean view."
The VP of BFD:   "What's that?"

Secra: "I quit. Fax it yourself."
The VP of BFD:   "What's that?"

It was absolutely maddening  ... and the most maddening thing about it was that I never believed, for a single solitary moment, that the guy really couldn't hear me.  I was married for sixteen years to someone profoundly hard of hearing, after all: I know the difference.  The VP of BDF could hear me just fine.  I believed then  --  and I still believe now  --  that this was a stoopid deliberate power affectation on his part ...  a way of gaining the upper hand in all verbal encounters, big and small.  Every time you ask someone to repeat themselves, it dilutes the power of their 'message' a little.  Do it occasionally, and it's mildly intimidating.  Do it often enough, and after a while they avoid talking to you altogether.

And that's sort of what's going on with me at work today.

For the first couple of weeks of my Temporary Unfortunate Hearing Loss  --  when I thought it was probably just a cold or a sinus infection, gone sideways into my *crustacean tubes,* and that it would clear up all by itself eventually  --  I could still hear well enough to function on the job.  I even enjoyed it, in a bizarre way: it made the world around me seem hushed and muffled and serene, as though I were sitting alone in the transcript vault at Highline Community College, smoking a joint and photocopying my hands.  Plus it pleasantly and effectively muted all of the really annoying Dirt Company background noise   ...  The Main Marketing Guy whistling, The Main Nerdy Geotech Guy telling fart jokes,  the 'Good Time Oldies' emanating from half a dozen cubicles down the hallway, the phones ringing.  It actually wasn't much of a problem at all.

For the past couple of days, however  --  ever since I've become convinced that someone is sneaking into my bedroom at night, while I sleep, and pouring fresh wet concrete into my ears  -- then pounding a couple of ten-inch nails into my eardrums, just for chuckles  --   it's become almost impossible to do anything at work that involves 1.) hearing,  2.) speaking, or 3.) hearing and speaking at the same time. 

Which is a problem when you sit at the front desk and answer phones for a living.

My co-workers don't seem all that surprised that I've suddenly gone deaf on them.  I'm ancient, after all.  I'm a crone.  I'm the crabby middle-aged buzzkill parked at the front desk.   [How old did 46 seem to *you* when you were in your mid-twenties?  I rest my case.]   But I definitely think they're becoming annoyed with me asking them to repeat everything they say   ...  two or three or eleven times in a row.  To them, I'm sure it seems lots less like a stoopid deliberate 'power affectation,' and more like yet another way for Secra to be cranky and hostile and nonresponsive.

Co-Worker:   "Mmmf fmmf fm mmffmm."
Secra:  "What's that?"
Co-Worker:   "Mmmf fmmf fm mmffmm."
Secra:  "What's that?"
Co-Worker:   "Mmmf fmmf fm MMMFFMMM!" [stomps off in a huff, doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day]

Come to think of it   ...  maybe The VP of BFD was onto something, after all.

next        previous        home        archives        want to throw a rock?