Phones

I never talked on the phone as a kid. What reason did I have? The few friends I had growing up lived close enough that I could usually just walk to their houses, my parents and siblings and I would visit any family I had out of town typically once a month, and most calls at the house were for my folks anyway, so I didn't have a reason to talk on the phone. Every now and then I'd write a letter to my grandparents or something (I was an adorable kid), but otherwise my communication was face-to-face, and it stayed that way for a long time. I was sending out emails and chatting via IM before actually talking on the phone much, but one faithful day as a young man I got my first cell phone.

The early 2000s were a simpler time. My flip phone had a camera-- a freaking camera!-- and... it flipped open! It wasn't as cool as the Razr, sure, but it was basically the next step up from it, and it was pretty awesome to me. Even then, my phone calls were to check in with my mom (to reassure her I wasn't doing anything I was totally doing at the time) and to call and text my friends after I started getting more friends that didn't communicate any other way than texting and MySpace messages. I didn't like the thought of calling to make appointments, or to talk over the phone with strangers, and I was fortunate enough to not have to for a long time. A few phone upgrades, lame jobs, and years later, I got hired at the hotel I work at today.

I spent years working either outside and away from people or behind-the-scenes and away from people. I was personable and nice, sure, but people made me nervous; talking to people, making sure they're settled in and satisfied, explaining things about the area and rooms at the hotel, it was a daunting thing for a introverted guy to face. After, like, I don't know, a couple days of training or so for the job, I'd gotten the hang of talking to guests, checking them in, and the general stuff like that, and it was going pretty good.

Then they asked me to use the phone. 

The monotone droning of the 90s-era phone console indicated someone calling. Sweat beaded on my forehead, both from the heat June beating down outside and the nervousness building up in my chest. I didn't know who was calling. I didn't know what they'd say. I stared at the blinking gray LCD arrow pointing at the 'LINE 1' button, knowing that I would have to answer the call if I were to press it. If I was going to keep this summer job I'd have to get over the nervousness potentially screwing up while talking on the phone, so I took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and hit the 'LINE 1' button.

It was just a reservation inquiry. The guy on the other line thanked me after I quoted him the rate, and he hung up.

That was it. 

Now I answer calls dozens and dozens of times a day, call to make appointments and reservations, and talk to people professionally and casually over the phone. Even though I still get tongue-tied sometimes and get snarky comments from people on the other line, I realize it happens more in person than it does over the phone and that it's harder to have people notice me rolling my eyes when they're not talking to me in person. I'm not sure why I was so nervous to talk on the phone before, but after a few years of doing it to pay the rent I think I'm pretty used to it. 

It's one of those parts of growing up that just sort of happened to me.