Brrrrrring

If you've met me in recent years, it may surprise you to know I used to live with a crippling fear of placing calls to, buying things from, and asking questions of customer service, cashiers, waiters and the like. Calling the pizza place for a large pepperoni? My personal Vietnam. Buying gum at the grocery store? Just send me to Sing Sing. It all came from some deep fear of embarrassing myself, from the horror of inconveniencing others. Like the dude who bagged my groceries was the Pope.

I eventually got to the point where I could order food at restaurants without blushing and buy stuff without hyperventilating (I got a little too comfortable with this one), but the phone has remained something of an issue for me. I still beat myself up over what, to me, is seriously awkwardness, but which probably goes unnoticed to others. Really, I should kiss myself for the way outside of my hula hoop things I have to do for my job. Like calls to customer service representatives, pretending I'm a potential customer for undercover research:

"Yes, I'm married and live in Nebraska. Can you tell me about any deals that would help me save money? My husband has me on a such tight budget."

Or something like that. As you know, I'm currently writing my mystery novel and so sometimes I pretend I'm my heroine, er, sleuthing? Or something. The more I do it, the less heinous of an ordeal it becomes, but I'm not sure it's something I'll ever enjoy. But neither would living in Nebraska. No offense.