Handling Frustration

I am currently on my fifth over-the-phone attempt at reconnecting our internet with AT&T. I have had more than a few choice words to say about the company, and about Charter. If large, monopolizing companies had souls, those souls would burn (or freeze) in the deepest circle of hell. Every other attempt before now has failed because a) the phone I was using to make the call would drop the connection (my cell phone is also AT&T, they’re sure hittin’ ‘em out of the park) or b) I was on hold for over 15 min, and 15 minutes of garbled muzak is enough to drive anyone batty.

I made two of these calls late Thursday morning. I had to hang up the phone after 15 minutes because I was another 15 minutes away from walking into daily Mass. I knew that if I stayed on the line any longer, I would be frustrated beyond belief and wanting to take it out on anyone around me.

Not exactly the kind of attitude one should have before receiving the Eucharist.

I’ve seen a lot of this attitude in myself lately, and it’s scaring me. I’ve long known that I get flustered and panicked when I have a plan, and something goes wrong. A surprise gets thrown into my schedule, something I don’t think I have time to handle, usually completely out of my control. I FREAK. OUT. Crying is ofttimes a by-product. I feel like the world is crashing down around me.

It’s something I’m trying to work on.

So lately, it’s been manifesting itself in anger. Pure, unmitigated anger. I immediately regret showing a friend, or even someone I don’t know, less respect and care than I know they deserve. A woman who works in the ILS department called me out on it, saying that an e-mail sounded a little “snippy”. I still feel horrible about that. My problems shouldn’t affect other people in this way. I should be able to control myself. I should have enough peace in my heart to not let frustrations and anger get to me. The key word is, of course, “should”.

I stumbled on a blog post from Jenn at Conversion Diary that helped me think about it. For the vast majority of days when I get angry, I haven’t prayed. Things in my day go so much more smoothly when I start the day with prayer. As much time as I can manage, sometimes just a moment to dedicate my day and the work that I do to God. And I can see God’s sense of humor pretty clearly as He tries to impress upon me the importance of prayer. And it’s not like God rewards me with a good day when I’ve come to Him first; things are simply put into perspective after spending time with God. I can see Him in others much more clearly. I have the motivation (namely, love) to do everything with excellence. I know that these things will all pass away, that these little bumps in the road aren’t enough to toss the car off the road.

And so I pray through writing while the open phone sits on my stomach, issuing that horrid, horrid music, waiting for a service representative to answer my call. It’s probably been almost a half an hour now. I’m upset that a company does not staff enough people to handle demand. But I think I can separate the person on the other end of the phone (thank God! A real person!) with the bureaucracy that makes me want to boycott this company. After all, that has to be the most thankless job. They don’t need one more irate customer making their day a living hell.

Update: I was on hold for an hour and a half while I typed this. Then the recorded voice was kind enough to tell me that the office was... closing. That's right, closing at 5pm without taking my call. Deep breaths. Practicing patience, practicing patience, practicing patience...

What Starbucks does to Life's Lemons

I started taking private voice lessons with the director of my choir, Bruce Gladstone. The man is FABULOUS. It's one of the most fun hours of my week (ballroom dance class ranks up there too). I've already learned so much - I walked around all last week telling everyone, "Do you know how big your vocal chords are? They're the size of your thumbnail!!!"

Bruce doesn't just teach voice, he teaches important life lessons. Aside from the exciting trivia about tiny body parts, I learned a bit of Alexander method, which is a way for lengthening the body, making me look taller and giving my torso better air flow. This week, due to a cold, I was instructed to start neti potting, and to try steamed lemonade from Starbucks. I was also told to speak a third higher in pitch than I normally do, but that's not the point.

Steamed lemonade?

But it was actually quite tasty, and it felt gorgeous on my poor larynx. So now I feel it's my duty to alert the world to steamed lemonade - a drink that is tasty, cheap (by Starbucks standards), and good for your throat. Who ever knew something so good could come out of a huge, monopolizing corporation?

Get well soon, students of Madison.