Last time I sat in a meeting attended by twenty people, I couldn't open my mouth. Irrational (indeed "silly") though this may have been, it nonetheless affected me badly at the time, and left me worried that I was going to experience a recurrence of my horribly debilitating anxiety symptoms.
So it feels very good to turn up at a completely different, but equally large, meeting this morning, and be able to talk and comment on the topics under discussion without any difficulty whatsoever. I even make everyone laugh at one point! (deliberately, I mean. It's not that they are convulsed with amusement at the mere sight of me. I don't think so anyway...)
In the afternoon, I go along to a training course on a very boring subject but delivered by two young guys from another department. They are most atypical of our organisation, being attractive, articulate and personable. I know a couple of the other attendees, though most are unfamiliar to me. But amazingly, within five minutes I make all of them laugh too.
Hell - I am on a roll today !!!
I don't have to look far for the reason behind my comparative confidence and enjoyment. None of the people in today's meetings are colleagues from my department. Hence I feel no sense of threat or danger, and can relax.
The threat from The Jackals continues, however, to be very real.
Only this week I had lunch with Life Coach Colleague who was subjected, upon return, to interrogation by Spiteful Manager who then sought to persuade him that he should not spend time with me! My friends repeatedly point out that the behaviour I am subjected to belongs more in a kindergarten than a professional workplace. However true this may be, there is something peculiarly humiliating about being cold-shouldered, ostracised and bitched about by "grown-ups" with wrinkles, paunches and mortgages. Which is, of course, the whole point of their conduct...
We are having to move upstairs to temporary accommodation due to the sound of drilling, and everyone has been instructed to take stock of their own files, drawer contents and papers. Even though there will be no desk for me in the temporary office; when the training course finishes I finally enter my department for the first time that day and spend an hour packing up 20% of my papers into two crates (the other 80% I ruthlessly fling in a recycling sack....)
New Boss passes as I am attaching labels to the crates.
"You're ahead of the rest of us" he comments.
"Mmmm", I say. "I like being ahead".
I apologise for having left one of the crates on my desk, because it is too heavy to lift. New Boss responds entirely predictably (he is a Northern male, let us not forget) and, as if it weighs nothing, hefts said crate off my desk so he can place it tidily with its fellow at the side of the office. He doesn't appear to be using the Council's approved Manual Handling techniques! Goodness me, I hope he hasn't damaged his back.
I sweep a cloth over my now pristine desk, and tuck my chair underneath it. New Boss and Line Manager are now standing at my back, chatting. "All done," I say as I pass them on my way out of the office, intending (did they but know it) not to return for at least a month. "All packed away"
It's not very Stepford Employee, but I can't resist a Parthian shot; and as I disappear through the door, I send a few words floating back to them.
"It's as if I never even existed."
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