I didn’t realize how common, familiar or recognizable my face was until my mission. People allowed me to enter their homes when they thought I was somebody else.
“Oh, you are not my niece, Pam,” one woman said after she let me in and then read my name tag.
I predicted that she and her niece must not have been that close.
I’ve had people seek me out to ask me questions or confide their entire life-history to me as though there was a neon sign on my head that said, “Please, tell me your life story. Share all your woes with me.”
It didn’t seem to matter if I was looking at a book or engaged in another conversation. People would horn in on my territory and pounce on me. I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but perhaps it was because they believed I was someone they had already met – like an old friend or a psychiatrist or something.
I recall at least two times when a co-worker wasn’t getting something or needed extra help with whatever. Each put in a request for me to assist which I thought was odd – especially the first girl I thought was highly immature and would have liked to see her take a permanent leave of absence from the company.
The other one was from another workplace. I had been working there on a temporary assignment which meant I was being paid through an agency and not the company where this girl (I'll call her Tess) worked. She was in a different department than I was and so I had little contact with her to begin with.
Tess had been called into the office as she was struggling with a concept. Tess had made a request for me to assist her to understand whatever it was that had been expected of her. Thus, I was called into the office and told that I had been requested by Tess could I train her on how to do a step that was needed to make her job more efficient. Okay? I thought it an odd request as I was only a temp on a different payroll system and in a different department. But I did accept the assignment to train Tess.
My looks (or whatever familiarity it was) for the most part have worked in my favor. People seem to automatically like me perhaps assuming I am somebody else, but I did have one job where the boss couldn’t stand me. The job was only seasonal, and I was never happy there – but I don’t believe I ever had my lips pursed or gave the appearance that my wardrobe was too tight and if I wasn’t comfortable I would be certain that no one else was either.
The seasonal job involved a bus line charter that would take passengers from the airport to one of three ski resorts or vice-versa. Potential clients would call to reserve a time to be picked up from airport or location. Sounds easy, right? And yet there were passengers that would not get picked up because the information either hadn’t been recorded properly, related properly or delayed because of the weather. If the third option was the reason, we were to contact those customers to let them know about the delay. The transition was rarely ever smooth. I don’t know why there was such complication with communication. All I know is my first boss was let go I would guess because of so many unsatisfied clients.
So then came along Ruth to clean up the mess that the first had left behind. I suggested to her that we should have a meeting to learn whether we were on the same page or not. When she finally did get around to having the meeting, I wasn’t invited. I was complaining about it to one of my co-workers who said that I intimidated Ruth.
“She didn’t like me before I opened my mouth. She waltzed in her, looked at me, and just started hating me for no reason!”
Ruth let me go. It was actually a relief on my part. I did not care for the atmosphere and I especially hated the location. I thought because it was seasonal I could stick it out, but I really wasn’t happy. Ruth did me a favor. She probably wouldn’t have fired me if she had known how great I felt inside.
Roland has always had this kid magnetism that I myself have not possessed until lately when I have subbed at some of the schools in our area. Often, I will be with behavioral or academically challenged youth who again will view me as a comrade. I had met a troubled youth on a Thursday last month. I had not seen her again until this month.
“Have I met you before,” she asked.
“We met on Thursday before the power went out.”
She just nodded as though it were an acceptable answer but has asked me the same question the following day. She recognizes me as someone she can trust. Other instructors have had their struggles with this particular individual, but her behavior has been acceptable in my presence.
Just this week I was introduced to another that struggles academically and displays emotional outbursts as a result. The size of this individual indicates that she is much older than she is. Her brain indicates that she is much younger. Apparently, we are tight. I did not know this until yesterday when she came in from recess and started to make a b-line towards me but was intercepted by the teacher giving instructions. The student was upset that her teacher hadn’t allowed her to share with me whatever important thing it was.
Perhaps it's the color of my hair that makes me trustworthy. I look like my mom did in her final years. Except she lost weight and I have gained it. I wish I didn’t enjoy eating naughty things or at all. I’ve eaten things that are good for me as well – but not in moderation, unfortunately.
I really am a trustworthy individual and overall polite. Sometimes I feel irritation but try so hard not to express it to the individual I am frustrated or irritated. Having a common/familiar/recognizable face has its advantages, I guess. Perhaps all those who think I look familiar know me from before we were born.
