Social Anxiety, and Banks... Again.

Being cooped up indoors 24/7 for much too long, I also realize when I have to conquer the urges of hiding away from the world and reaching outside when I need to. So at least when I have an issue, like not being paid for work done, I can overcome stupid fears, like that of using the telephone, and try to figure out who messed up. Fortunately, I didn't have to get upset at people to fix the problem over the line, and things are resolved.

---

I have an aversion to the telephone because the fact that I cannot see a person's reaction when I speak to them already comprimises a part of my brain telling me if I am being unwelcome or not. It comes from my deep-rooted insecurity, and the memories and fears of rejection that has plagued me throughout my inexplicable childhood. Thus, I would rather conduct transactions and communicate face-to-face as much as possible, comforted by the physical presence of a person.

However, the bank (or cooperative) is another issue. One time several years ago when I started studying at McGill, the caisse populaire didn't allow me to pay my tuition bill at the teller without charging me extra for some stupid reason, and the fact that the teller was cold and unhelpful didn't improve my thoroughly negative impression of banks.

I have never, ever liked banks. I would rather hide my money in a pillowcase in a box in a concrete vault at the bottom of the ocean on another planet in another galaxy. Unfortunately, on this planet, normal everyday monetary transactions require a person with some profession or other to have an account at a financial institution. Thus, I have one, at the Caisse Populaire Desjardins. And I avoid it as much as possible. (Though I avoid the RBC even moreso.)

But their internet banking gives me relief. Internet banking is a godsend, and should have come much, much sooner. I can pay my bills online. And I can OC-ly check my account every ten seconds to make sure they are paid.

Except if I am using Firefox, apparently. My second call of the day involved whining at the tech guy, and being told that the error page I kept getting sent to was due to me using an internet browser that was not "Internet Explorer or Netscape" ...!

Netscape...!? Didn't that die out when people were still trying to avoid the Y2K catastrophe that crippled hospitals, government institutions, financial institu-oh wait. That might explain it. (The fact that the monetary investment by everyone into the Y2K bug hadn't caused such a ruckus meant that they were reluctant to let Netscape die in the horrific Firefox wake.)

But wait - paradoxically, the Netscape investment didn't include creating internet banking back then. Otherwise, I'd have been saved the embarrassment of walking up to the teller and being told in none too many words that I was an idiot. What the hell are they using my money for? *rage rage rage*

Fears

When I have nothing else to write about, I usually point out how disgustingly and mopingly unemployed I am. Some people would go absolutely nuts if they have no direct and regular source of income, or not have any sort of plan in mind to do so. And some of you are workaholics who can't sit still.

I know you; you're the ones that I envy, who seem to be able to handle and conquer all things. Invulnerable, courageous and unashamed. Your self imposed weaknesses are but trifles in other people's point of view, and your strengths are infinite.

This is me. I have absolutely zero problem talking to someone face to face to ask for something, but when it's over the phone... forget it.

A second level of fear above that is asking someone for something that benefits me personally. I'd rather do anything else than ask for a favor. I'm certain it's not because I don't want to owe someone, because if anyone asks me for anything I don't hesitate (unless it's ridiculous).

And the most debilitating one of all: I fear rejection or failure from lack of sufficient skill. I'm the type who absolutely finds everything fascinating... to a point. Yes, even sports. But I don't feel like anything near an expert at any sort of thing. (And you're going to say, "But nobody's an expert at everything." And then I'm going to say, "But I'd like to be an expert at just one thing." Then you can counter with, "You have an inferiority complex." And then I'll say, "Oh you're right.)

OK, enough blah. Here's a sketch.

Expected; The Usual Disappointments

I finally summoned enough courage to defeat my phone-phobia and called the school board, only to be disappointed with a resounding, "No, it didn't count because it had to be 60 consecutive work days. Bye."

Thus I am once again in the same spot as last year.

---

On another note, Davy emailed that his site is back up and running, with a newer layout (but still in the works). Check out his photos!

---

How many times do you call different people for various reasons before you get a panic attack and decide not to use the phone for the rest of the week? My limit's 4.