Unreasonable fears

I’m not talking about phobias that totally break people down. I have some random fears, not without roots, but they are still unreasonable at my place in life.

One of my greatest fears is calling strangers on the phone, whether it is customer service or a store to ask questions or what. I’ve largely gotten over it and can make myself call, but my throat gets dry and my head feels woozy whenever I do.

I know why. When I was younger, my older bro, my sister, and I often had to call up people and places on behalf of my parents, due to the language barrier. But it’s not easy being a kid and calling adults, expecting them to take you seriously, especially when you are talking about things you don’t know.

Imagine you are at your job. And some kid calls you, says they are calling on behalf of their parent or parents. The kid sounds young, maybe 10 years old. You think you are being jerked around, but try to be nice. The kid asks some questions, making you wait while talking to someone off the phone (is it an adult? or is it another kid prompting them on this prank?), then gets off the phone. The phone rings again, and it’s the same kid. She’s asking you the same questions. Or different ones. Whatever. It’s getting annoying, and you are busy. You speak curtly, but you are willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. By the time she calls again, you are pissed off. You curse out the 10 year old, annoyed to keep getting these crank calls, which, by this time, you are sure it is. You scream at her and tell that bitch to never call back and some creative things she can do with her “parents”.

Well, I was that kid. And I wasn’t making crank calls. And I didn’t want to bother them and call them over and over again, but there it is. Most immigrants’ kids will tell you that they had to do this everyday for something or another.

The person on the phone yells at you for wasting their time. Randomly, and more frequently than you might imagine, they’ll get personal and say something about my background, like, “Go back to China, you stupid ching-chong,” especially if they’ve heard you talking to your parents. The parents at home yell at you for not getting the information correctly the first time, maybe even for making the person on the line mad. But you don’t even know what words to use for what they want to talk about. The concepts are hard for a kid.

The other, lesser component of this is having to give them my name. It’s almost always an ordeal. Some people have asked me, “Don’t you have an ‘American’ name?” or, more politely, “Do you have a nickname you go by?” Ignoring the inherent xenophobia of the first question (if I am American, and that’s my name, what is un-American about my name? Ah, you mean a name of Western origins. That’s not the same as being American.) it’s not like I wouldn’t rather I had a name that people could easily understand and say. And it’s not like I haven’t tried to fit them on for size and see how they feel. I know a lot of people who have changed their names for precisely this reason. But nothing else fits me. I’ve been this name for so long. I’ve tried and tried again. I just live with it because it’s me, and I’m used to people not getting the name right. It’s ok, as long as they put in an effort. It’s rude if they don’t put in an effort, but not getting it right the first few times is not a crime. I even tell people it’s ok to ask me again later, so they aren’t embarrassed to ask.

Anyway… I can call people now. I rehearse what I will say and get to the point quickly but politely, so I don’t waste their time. I know to always say, “Let me spell it for you,” when having people looking up my account. I know what I’m calling about. I know how to assert myself if someone is insulting to me. I know how to respond nicely when I am speaking with a person who is trying to help. I know I’m in control. (Well, unless I’m trying to cancel AOL, I suppose.)

But always, in the pit of my stomach, there is a painful pit lodged right between my ribs, fear that someone will scream at me and curse me out and tell me to go back to where I came from, and being unable to avoid the situation in the future, being out of control of my circumstances.

It hasn’t happened in years. But there it is.

What’s your unreasonable fear?