|
August 13, 1997 Nervousness. Or rather, stage fright. It's churning in my stomach right now as I contemplate calling someone from Security On Campus Inc. for a quick interview about the web site. It occurred to me as I sit here biting my nails off, trying to get a grip on the sinking feeling in my gut, that nervousness only really comes in situations when I, we, people, feel less than adequate when faced with a task. I don't get nervous when I feel confident about something, when I feel like I know what I'm doing. It's only when I feel unprepared, or out of my depth that I get nervous. I feel unprepared to do this interview. I've never really done an interview before. I've had no journalism training. I'm just a web geek with a driving desire to write and to spice up her job a little with some reporting. In the immortal words of the cartoon strip character, Cathy: AAAAAACK! My mind is racing at a hundred miles per hour, what questions should I ask, how should I ask them? In what order? Should I call now or later? Should I send it by email? Yes I could be chicken and avoid the call altogether. I just sent off an email letting the person know I'm going to be calling, and asking when the best time to call would be. I also left him PLENTY of room to just answer by email. I am a big yellow chicken. All because I feel like I can't handle a few simple questions. I miss the days of working tech support at Smith. Then I was God. I was The Person With The Answers. I could answer most questions with absolute authority, or I could fudge around the rules and regulations or bluff my way through most encounters by figuring things out on the fly. I'm no expert, but I dig computers. Heck, I dig romance languages and literature too. And literary analysis. But I'm terrifed of calling, a probably very nice man, in my HOMETOWN no less, just to ask him a few questions about the organization he works for. Pathetic isn't it? Ironic how little things get to you. HAH. Old demon shyness rears its ugly head once more. |