There was a point during my childhood at which I made a conscious decision: I will not be "the problem." Perhaps this stems from being not only one of 8 children in my family, but being number 4, the infamous "middle child", complete with syndrome. Of course, with an even number of children, there actually ended up being two middle children, myself and the sister just younger than myself, who also has middle child syndrome. The competitions ensued. Having decided to don the "peacemaker" persona, I often gave way when confrontations reared their ugly heads, or claimed apathy which, don't tell, actually crowned me the victor by robbing my opponents/built-in best friends of their hold on my care for whatever was at stake! We also often used phrases such as, "Be wallpaper" or "Keep a low profile" when one or the other of an older sister or brother found new ways to test their limits, which usually caused tension and resulted in a few additions to the Family Rules.
It worked, for the most part. I rarely did things that got me in trouble (I had plenty of brothers and sisters whose mistakes yielded many lessons about what and what not to do) and usually avoided conflict with my family and friends. Memory paints me as mild-mannered, hard-working, creative, and quiet. Unfortunately, I have also developed a passive, self-deprecating, and non-confrontational manner.
As the years have passed and I have matured somewhat, I have noticed that my philosophy needs updating. Several experiences have alerted me to what I have dubbed my Anticharisma Shield. It's my aura, most likely, and seems to reflect light, causing people in the grocery store to completely ignore me when I attempt to pass them as they are standing right in the middle of the broad aisle, with their shopping cart perpendicular to the shelves, leaving little space on either side for anyone to pass them. I clear my throat. Nothing. I attempt ridiculously passing in front of them, saying, "Excuse me" and "Oh, sorry" when I make it obvious that there is not enough room for me to get through. Nothing. I pull my cart to the side of the aisle, walk up to the person, close enough for them to see me, and ask politely if they could allow me to pass. This is, apparently, very rude.
I went to the bank several months ago to exchange dollars for some foreign currency prior to a trip to Europe. I foolishly went on my lunch break, but was heartened when I entered the lobby to see that there were two people ahead of me in the line. These two people had issues that consumed the attention of all four tellers present. Hope springs eternal, and I continued to wait, sure that they would finish soon. 20 minutes later, the window finally opens up and I smile as I request foreign currency exchange. "We don't do that at this window, you'll have to go over there." The teller indicates a wall. "Where?" I ask. "Over by the international flags." I see no flags. "Okay. Thank you." I say and I start walking, scanning the floor, ceiling, wall, counters for international flags. Finally I come upon a window that has one of those little plastic stands with three foreign flags in it. The flags stand approximately 8 inches high and are completely obscured by the division between the windows. I breathe a sigh of relief. There is no one ahead of me! I step up to the window, smile at the teller and say, "Hi!" She ignores me. She is completing some task. Understandable. I wait. And wait. After a minute she looks up, looks in my direction, fails to acknowledge my existence, then looks to her right and motions to a man standing 20 feet away in a doorway. "Sir, I can help you now!" What?! Obviously I must have mistaken the flow of traffic in this room where there are no railings, no barriers, no indicators whatsoever of where to walk or stand! No matter...I step back and wait for someone to tell me it's my turn. Finally I get the currency and am on my way.
Whew! Mission agonizingly accomplished! I exit the building where I have parked in a construction zone, legally, but there is some difficulty in getting back into traffic from my position. 'Great,' I think to myself. 'I'll be here all day.' Miraculously, a construction worker approaches the corner, walks out into traffic and motions me into the flow of traffic. Thank you Mr. Construction worker! I guess I'm not invisible after all...
