The children walk past the window, carrying things home from school, precious things they've made, reading folders, backpacks. Or their parents carry the things for them as if the children had had such a hard day they can't be expected even to bring their possessions home themselves.
The sun slanting in through the dirty window, catches a strange assortment of things on the table. A toast rack, an enamel plate, a pestle and mortar, a star-shaped ice-cube tray. A label for pink rosemary, though we have none and can't remember ever having had.
This morning I did cold calls - part of my new temporary job - and it has had a dire effect on my well-being. It's calling schools to market something really good, so it isn't awful in the way trying to sell mobile phones or power is awful, but it touches a sore place in me about putting myself up for rejection, the fear of being dismissed without being able to explain, of making a nuisance of myself. Only two people I've spoken to have been dismissive in reality - no we're not interested said one, the other - we'd never be interested in anything like that, as if I'd proposed they acquire an instrument of torture. But the whole thing just gets my adrenalin and cortisol levels soaring, makes me feel tense and tearful, on a short fuse.
And today we have yet another man doing work in the house. Just putting up a few shelves, some coat pegs and a bathroom cupboard, and planing the bottoms of a couple of doors, but it seems to be taking all day, and something about his energy makes me very uneasy - kind of slow, heavy, depressive, a bit moany. Probably rather too close to the thing in me I'm struggling with. And strong body odour to boot. L is sorting cupboards and I'm writing here while we wait for him to finish for the day, and can fling open windows, get out the hoover, and then hang up our coats at last, put things on the new shelves and into the bathroom cupboard...
4 comments:
I really identify with this cold calling, for I find it very hard to phone strangers, never mind trying to sell them something! Unsettling, this moving and unpacking and cleaning. I hope it'll be all done soon and then you'll feel much more relaxed and happy in your new home. Just hang in there, Firebird!
Oh dear! Cold calling and a strange malodorous man in your house on the same day sounds like rather a lot to bear. Hope tomorrow is better.
I noticed how much I had to psyche myself up to phone a b&b owner recently, in case she said no she was full up, so then I would have to phone others, and perhaps I'd left it too late and they'd all say no, and I'd alredy booked my train ticket, and the longer I kept putting it off the more likely she was to say no (she didn't say no, she said oh gosh I hadn't started to think about taking Spring bookings yet, let me get my book, yes, that's fine, I'll give you a reduction). So imagine how painful I'd find it calling people to try and sell them something.
Oh no, that's all you need, a dreary workman with a case of accidie and BO... Still, must have been really nice when it stopped. We had one like that working in our bank - only he had hairs on the end of his nose as well. I happened to go in on the day he retired, and there was a book in which one could write him a message. I was so happy to see him go I wished well as fulsomely as my French would allow. His place has been taken by two fragrant and cheery young women and the bank is an altogether nicer place to enter now.
I'm supposed to be making calls to proffer our English teaching services to working folk. We've sent out leaflets and done the website and written the letters, all of which we entered into quite enthusiastically, but now I'm disliking making the calls so much that I'm inclined to think I don't want to be bothered witht he project after all. I know that Gillian, for all her energy and self-assured ebullience, feels just the same way, and is finding all kinds of other pressing things that stop her from doing it! It's comforting to know that obviously most people feel the same way. Makes you realise what a shit job it is selling double glazing and such like over the phone. There's something about having to be forcedly upbeat and eager when you just don't feel that way. Actually I imagine you come across very well, you have a lovely phone voice (though I know phone phobia means I haven't listened to it over the years as much as I might!), and you're clearly not stupid or pushy or inane.
Perhaps a good idea to break it into lots of two or three maximum, and line yourself up a series of bonbons as rewards for each couple of calls you get through: a cup of tea, or a sherry even at the end of the morning, a toffee or a piece of fruit, read a poem or someone's blog (someone who keeps it short!). It might take a bit longer to get through them but they won't look so daunting... just a thought. It must get a bit easier as you get used to the spiel, and I'm sure you're giving it your best shot; being more forceful and pushy wouldn't help, and would only put most people off. It's not personal, it's not you you're selling, just some products, it's not how you are ultimately going to be valued...
Bugger, that was me, not Tom! Forgot I was on the wrong side...
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