There are vices and virtues of being on a business trip. On the down side is the travelling and sleeping in hotel beds. The past two days I have become aware of some of the virtues. I am currently in another country, for a meeting, followed by a conference. It is part of the job to attend conferences - about once a year. Recently I have turned the vicious part of conference attendance into a virtue. The breaks. The meals. The conference dinner.
During this trip I was paging through a free magazine on the train. There was an article on new trends. It said that the old trend of fear of missing out (F.O.M.O.) has been overtaken by a new one: JOY of missing out: J.O.M.O. - and that is what it is! My newfound pleasure... At the conference, when the session ends, I head for the coffee, and - while staring at my phone or a piece of paper in order to avoid contact - I find a place where I can sit alone. I skipped the conference dinner, said I had to work, walked to town, bought a sandwich, and thoroughly ENJOY sitting in my hotel room, missing out on all the chit-chat. I am being unfair, conference dinners can involve interesting scientific discussions. But I can't concentrate when more than one person is talking at the same time. So to me it might as well be chit-chat.
I know that missing out on purpose is not compliant to social code. Therefore I had no answer when some of the people I had a meeting with yesterday exclaimed: 'I'll walk with you!' when I said I'd rather walk than drive to my hotel. So I walked with them. I wonder if NT people are as anxious about what to talk about when they foresee that they have to spend time with other people?
Showing posts with label parties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parties. Show all posts
Thursday, 14 March 2013
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Roommates
I am trying to find out how I feel about noise. I discovered a blog about sensitivity to background noise (and related challenges): http://mados.wordpress.com and upon reading that, I tried to organise my own thoughts on noise.
One of my problems with social functions is that I lack a filter. I can't concentrate on what person A is saying because person B is talking to person C. I am afraid that people find me rude if I don't pay attention to what they're saying and therefore I refrain from asking: Sorry what was that, sorry I didn't hear, etc. I struggle to make sense of the about 60 percent of person A's message, that I actually got. And very often the conversation dies because I can't say much more that 'oh' and 'yes', afraid that A has already told me what I am about to ask.
Conversations that are utterly irrelevant to me are easier to ignore, which is why it worked out relatively well when I commuted to work. I usually sat in the quiet section on the train, but if I had to sit in the normal section, I was often (though not always) able to block out irrelevant people's irrelevant phone conversations.
At work, I have my own office. It is quite close to the coffee machine, a common place for office small talk. When my door is open, I can hear everything that is said in the kitchen. And often I forget to work and just sit and listen. In particular if the small talk is relevant for me. I don't really like my door to be closed. To me, it signals: Leave me alone. Being a senior researcher, involved in a lot of projects, I don't think it is OK for me to send such a signal. I also like the interactions with my colleagues, so I am not very happy with a closed door.
During my carrier, I've shared an office numerous times. It has, I think, worked out well most of the times. In particular when my roommate was a quiet, hard-working researcher like myself. I also had great friendships with my roommates, though friendship time tended to increase on behalf of working time. I've shared an office with lovable people that had an interesting personal life, or a work that required lots of telephone conversations. And work related phone talk, as well as personal life related phone talk, tend to occupy my attention. I really liked those people I shared an office with, I am so happy they were in my life. But they disturbed me.
So maybe my first priority should be to have my own office, and create my own space behind a closed door. And maybe not. Because I have other quirks... Temperature and light related quirks. And there are other types of disturbances than office-mates.
The reason why I am thinking so much about this right now is that my workplace is moving. During spring, we are moving into the premises of the institution we recently merged with. Some researchers have to share an office. Because nobody wants to, those that volunteer to share, get first-choice regarding where they want to sit. All offices have glass walls towards the corridor. Some offices have very little daylight.
These are my thoughts: If someone wants to share an office with me, I have a very good chance of getting THE office that I want: On the top floor, with loads of daylight, relatively high temperature, and in the corner, where the visual disturbance of people walking in the corridor outside the glass wall is minimised. I also get the opportunity of developing another great friendship, or at least having a favourite colleague. But I will be disturbed by his or her telephone conversations, and perhaps the friendship time will start eating at the work time.
On the other hand, if I don't opt in on the shared office-first choice option, I have a relatively high risk of ending up in an office where people are walking outside all the time, where I can't see the sky and where it may be cold during winter. But the probability of having my own office is close to 100 %.
My experience with one office-mate is positive (whereas I hated being 3+ in the same office - that was anarchy), but I have become more introvert, more Aspie, and less 'filtered' since last time I shared an office with one person.
Both options have pros and cons, the central question is: what is most important to me?
One of my problems with social functions is that I lack a filter. I can't concentrate on what person A is saying because person B is talking to person C. I am afraid that people find me rude if I don't pay attention to what they're saying and therefore I refrain from asking: Sorry what was that, sorry I didn't hear, etc. I struggle to make sense of the about 60 percent of person A's message, that I actually got. And very often the conversation dies because I can't say much more that 'oh' and 'yes', afraid that A has already told me what I am about to ask.
Conversations that are utterly irrelevant to me are easier to ignore, which is why it worked out relatively well when I commuted to work. I usually sat in the quiet section on the train, but if I had to sit in the normal section, I was often (though not always) able to block out irrelevant people's irrelevant phone conversations.
At work, I have my own office. It is quite close to the coffee machine, a common place for office small talk. When my door is open, I can hear everything that is said in the kitchen. And often I forget to work and just sit and listen. In particular if the small talk is relevant for me. I don't really like my door to be closed. To me, it signals: Leave me alone. Being a senior researcher, involved in a lot of projects, I don't think it is OK for me to send such a signal. I also like the interactions with my colleagues, so I am not very happy with a closed door.
During my carrier, I've shared an office numerous times. It has, I think, worked out well most of the times. In particular when my roommate was a quiet, hard-working researcher like myself. I also had great friendships with my roommates, though friendship time tended to increase on behalf of working time. I've shared an office with lovable people that had an interesting personal life, or a work that required lots of telephone conversations. And work related phone talk, as well as personal life related phone talk, tend to occupy my attention. I really liked those people I shared an office with, I am so happy they were in my life. But they disturbed me.
So maybe my first priority should be to have my own office, and create my own space behind a closed door. And maybe not. Because I have other quirks... Temperature and light related quirks. And there are other types of disturbances than office-mates.
The reason why I am thinking so much about this right now is that my workplace is moving. During spring, we are moving into the premises of the institution we recently merged with. Some researchers have to share an office. Because nobody wants to, those that volunteer to share, get first-choice regarding where they want to sit. All offices have glass walls towards the corridor. Some offices have very little daylight.
These are my thoughts: If someone wants to share an office with me, I have a very good chance of getting THE office that I want: On the top floor, with loads of daylight, relatively high temperature, and in the corner, where the visual disturbance of people walking in the corridor outside the glass wall is minimised. I also get the opportunity of developing another great friendship, or at least having a favourite colleague. But I will be disturbed by his or her telephone conversations, and perhaps the friendship time will start eating at the work time.
On the other hand, if I don't opt in on the shared office-first choice option, I have a relatively high risk of ending up in an office where people are walking outside all the time, where I can't see the sky and where it may be cold during winter. But the probability of having my own office is close to 100 %.
My experience with one office-mate is positive (whereas I hated being 3+ in the same office - that was anarchy), but I have become more introvert, more Aspie, and less 'filtered' since last time I shared an office with one person.
Both options have pros and cons, the central question is: what is most important to me?
Sunday, 11 November 2012
Small talk
Small talk is difficult. Much worse than sudoku. Because there is not one solution to the problem. And when I've managed to small talk for twenty minutes I am awarded... some more small talk.
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
I really enjoy hearing about other people's work. In particular researchers, but also other areas of work. If I am at a function and people start talking about their work, I am home free. I relax and respond to whatever they are telling me.
When the person I am talking to chooses another subject than work, it becomes slightly more difficult. Because we engage in some sort of dialogue, that I am not comfortable with. If we talk about his/her family or relationship issues I don't know if I am supposed to
- just listen and add one-syllable exlamations at strategic times
- offer my own opinion: 'I don't think it is that bad', or 'could they have misunderstood you'
- contribute with my own experiences in the field
When I follow strategy 1., the conversation usually dies. When I follow strategy 2., either I agree and act sympathetic towards the other person, and then the conversation dies; or I offer another perspective, which very often is not well received. If I follow strategy 3., I often monopolise the conversation, because I don't know exactly when to stop.
I like to run. The past 6 or 7 years I have run regularly with colleagues wherever I have worked. And while I enjoy the running, and in fact also the company, I dread the conversation. If somebody very talkative joins the running team I am relieved. Because then he or she can do the talking. If something interesting is happening at work (a poor manager, a merger), we can talk about that. But very often there is simply not enough to talk about for approximately half an hour. These days I mostly run with one person from work. This guy happens to be the person I also work with in the only project where I work with others. And while I have nothing bad to say about him, I have virtually nothing to say TO him. He seems a nice person, very laid-back. And not very talkative. I've started to dread the running. And it is nothing personal. I just don't know what to talk about. We can't talk about our common project for half an hour. And I am sure we've been around workplace issues and normal small-talk issues more than once. I sometimes tell the same story again in a sort of panic.
I've decided I need a longer list of 'safe' topics for small talk. Not only the running of course, but also for parties and other functions where I am supposed to talk to people I am not comfortable with. My list so far:
- The weather
- Food
- Holidays
- People's clothes, jewelery etc (not that I have any interest but it buys me some 30 seconds)
And there's someting else I would like to know: When I bake or cook for others and they compliment my results, they often ask for the recipe. Is this small-talk or do they really want the recipe?
Thursday, 25 October 2012
View from a bridge
I found this picture on the internet:
The source is allposters.co.uk, although the painting is by the Norwegian painter Edvard Munch. The girl in the white dress is with the others but alone, she is in the same place but sees different things. The title of the painting is not 'girls on a bridge', but 'girl on a bridge'.
Somehow we are always on a bridge, always developing from one state to another. From child to adult, from being a child to having a child, etc. The bridge I stand on these days goes from the country of fitting in to the country of not fitting in at all. From the place of people to the place of solitude. From the average to the odd. From NT-land to Aspie-land.
And I have to find my way, my place on the bridge. Should I accept being part of a team at work, or should I do my best to avoid it? Should I join the others for a Friday beer or should I close my office door and stare at a spreadsheet? Should I call or e-mail? Should I respond to 'lets have coffee' or just 'forget' (I don't)?
Within the past few weeks some people that I've known for many years have asked if we should meet. A group of old colleagues have arranged to eat dinner at a (noisy) restaurant. Another former colleague wants to have coffee, well two former colleagues both want to have coffee. One of them I actually regard a close friend. I really like to have these people - and others - in my life. But I don't want to see them. In particular, I don't want to spent too much time outside my home and my workplace. I get exhausted by the noisy café. But I also know that that is the way we people socialise.
Something in me (but not the whole me) wants to run as fast as the white dress allows to the 'other' country. Kindly decline all invitations to gather. Cycle to work every morning, and cycle back every afternoon. Go shopping, cook, and after dinner open my computer and write long e-mails to all the people I like to have in my life, go on Facebook and comment at their photos, or communicate via text messages or even the chat function in wordfeud.
There's one part of real life socialising that I enjoy a lot though. I like having people over for dinner. If I am uncomfortable with our guests, I can always find something to do in the kitchen. And I am at home. My base. So my favourite place on that bridge would be a few steps away from the country of never seeing people in real life.
I tried to explain myself to my husband. I may have misunderstood, but I gathered that he felt that since I've fitted into social norms for 44 years, I might as well continue. It would, admittedly, make things much easier.
It is as if exploring my being different per se makes me more different. It is as if there's no turning back to the country of fitting in. And I think that scares me a little, and it scares my husband too. What if I turn into a hermit? Is that covered by 'for better for worse'? I don't know if I am about to turn into a hermit, I cross the bridge in my own speed and explore as I go.
The source is allposters.co.uk, although the painting is by the Norwegian painter Edvard Munch. The girl in the white dress is with the others but alone, she is in the same place but sees different things. The title of the painting is not 'girls on a bridge', but 'girl on a bridge'.
Somehow we are always on a bridge, always developing from one state to another. From child to adult, from being a child to having a child, etc. The bridge I stand on these days goes from the country of fitting in to the country of not fitting in at all. From the place of people to the place of solitude. From the average to the odd. From NT-land to Aspie-land.
And I have to find my way, my place on the bridge. Should I accept being part of a team at work, or should I do my best to avoid it? Should I join the others for a Friday beer or should I close my office door and stare at a spreadsheet? Should I call or e-mail? Should I respond to 'lets have coffee' or just 'forget' (I don't)?
Within the past few weeks some people that I've known for many years have asked if we should meet. A group of old colleagues have arranged to eat dinner at a (noisy) restaurant. Another former colleague wants to have coffee, well two former colleagues both want to have coffee. One of them I actually regard a close friend. I really like to have these people - and others - in my life. But I don't want to see them. In particular, I don't want to spent too much time outside my home and my workplace. I get exhausted by the noisy café. But I also know that that is the way we people socialise.
Something in me (but not the whole me) wants to run as fast as the white dress allows to the 'other' country. Kindly decline all invitations to gather. Cycle to work every morning, and cycle back every afternoon. Go shopping, cook, and after dinner open my computer and write long e-mails to all the people I like to have in my life, go on Facebook and comment at their photos, or communicate via text messages or even the chat function in wordfeud.
There's one part of real life socialising that I enjoy a lot though. I like having people over for dinner. If I am uncomfortable with our guests, I can always find something to do in the kitchen. And I am at home. My base. So my favourite place on that bridge would be a few steps away from the country of never seeing people in real life.
I tried to explain myself to my husband. I may have misunderstood, but I gathered that he felt that since I've fitted into social norms for 44 years, I might as well continue. It would, admittedly, make things much easier.
It is as if exploring my being different per se makes me more different. It is as if there's no turning back to the country of fitting in. And I think that scares me a little, and it scares my husband too. What if I turn into a hermit? Is that covered by 'for better for worse'? I don't know if I am about to turn into a hermit, I cross the bridge in my own speed and explore as I go.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Groups and parties
While I went to primary school, team work started being popular. Pupils had to work in groups, new universities were founded and based on team work. Nobody questioned the benefits of team work. I understand from my children's school that the team dogma is still in place, and is still not being questioned.
I never really got used to it. In primary school I either took over the entire group, made all the decisions and did all the work. Or I sat in the corner and sulked. There was nothing in between. In high school I usually worked with one friend and that was OK. On my first day in university I became friends with Peter. We HAD to form teams in university, so Peter and I teamed up with different constellations. It only worked when it was just the two of us. And that worked because we had a clear division of labour: I was much better than Peter at the mathematical subjects, whereas he was better at words hence the more political subjects were his field. When other people were part of our group, I got confused and frustrated.
At times during my working life, I have had to put up with team work again. A few times I have been lucky and met another 'Peter', where the other person and I excelled in different areas. But more often that has not been the case, or the team had consisted of more than two people. And then the primary school history repeated itself. I took over everthing or I sulked in a corner.
I don't feel particularly well about parties either. The less chaotic the better, though. The annual Christmas party is a good example. Most often the party starts with a sports event, a city walk, or similar. During dinner, there are speeches, quizzes, competitions etc. All this time, I am fine. The mere existence of a schedule or a plan makes me relax. Also I know what is expected from me. I just have to participate, go with the flow... Then, after dinner, things get worse. The light is softened, the music made louder, and tables are being pushed aside so people can dance. No more schedule. If I happened to be engaged in a conversation, the loud music makes it difficult. And nobody asks me to dance. Not that I like to dance, but I don't like to sit alone and do nothing. If have no idea what to do and I can't find my friends because they are busy dancing and drinking. Since I don't dance and I don't drink, I am by all means 'not on board'. In recent years I have left the party at this time, deciding that nobody will notice that I am the only person under 60 to leave the party at about 9 pm. If they do, I make my voice hoarse and say that I have a sore throat. Which is not a lie because my throat gets sore from shouting over the music....
I never really got used to it. In primary school I either took over the entire group, made all the decisions and did all the work. Or I sat in the corner and sulked. There was nothing in between. In high school I usually worked with one friend and that was OK. On my first day in university I became friends with Peter. We HAD to form teams in university, so Peter and I teamed up with different constellations. It only worked when it was just the two of us. And that worked because we had a clear division of labour: I was much better than Peter at the mathematical subjects, whereas he was better at words hence the more political subjects were his field. When other people were part of our group, I got confused and frustrated.
At times during my working life, I have had to put up with team work again. A few times I have been lucky and met another 'Peter', where the other person and I excelled in different areas. But more often that has not been the case, or the team had consisted of more than two people. And then the primary school history repeated itself. I took over everthing or I sulked in a corner.
I don't feel particularly well about parties either. The less chaotic the better, though. The annual Christmas party is a good example. Most often the party starts with a sports event, a city walk, or similar. During dinner, there are speeches, quizzes, competitions etc. All this time, I am fine. The mere existence of a schedule or a plan makes me relax. Also I know what is expected from me. I just have to participate, go with the flow... Then, after dinner, things get worse. The light is softened, the music made louder, and tables are being pushed aside so people can dance. No more schedule. If I happened to be engaged in a conversation, the loud music makes it difficult. And nobody asks me to dance. Not that I like to dance, but I don't like to sit alone and do nothing. If have no idea what to do and I can't find my friends because they are busy dancing and drinking. Since I don't dance and I don't drink, I am by all means 'not on board'. In recent years I have left the party at this time, deciding that nobody will notice that I am the only person under 60 to leave the party at about 9 pm. If they do, I make my voice hoarse and say that I have a sore throat. Which is not a lie because my throat gets sore from shouting over the music....
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