Answering Machine Stage Fright

Sometimes I want to beat myself up. I swear to god I am incapable of leaving a good, sensible, short voicemail. I just hate leaving messages. I hate, hate, hate it. I am fine talking to people in person-- part of my job is to walk up and make pleasant small talk with complete strangers, after all. I am fine talking on the phone-- I could go on for hours with someone I've never even met. I am obviously fine with typing my thoughts to the world. But give me a beep and a blank bit of air time, and I become the most stuttering, rambling, fast-talking person you've ever heard.

I used to work in a law office, where a good portion of my job as a plaintiff's attorney's assistant was being on the phone with clients. I definitely am used to calling total strangers, though I can't say I find it fun. But I could do it. Whenever I had to record a new answering machine message for when we were closed for holidays... oh boy. I used to have to do it sixteen times before I gave up and accepted that, whatever I tried, I was just gifted with the curse of sounding like an idiot on the phone. So believe me, I know I sound like a rambling loser, all full of "sooooo"s and "ummm"s, because I have listened to myself. I envy people who can speak slowly and sound measured and business-like. I hate how I sound on the phone.

I just had to leave a message for someone I'm doing an internship sort of thing with this semester. There was a misunderstanding about which day I was supposed to start (she assumed I'd come in Wednesday because that was the day my teacher said, but on my sheet it said no Wednesdays, so I called to clarify and ask if I could do Friday, she called back, I thought it was someone else calling and missed her, etc., etc). Even worse than leaving a regular voicemail: leaving a voicemail in which I have to explain something. It was a recipe for disaster. It's not that I'm scared of the phone, it's that I ramble. Ask my mom. I think it works OK in person because there's someone to cut me off and keep me on track. Anyway, here I am once again beating myself up for having left the flakiest, mile-a-minute message in the history of ever.

I had to vent.