This whole scooter thing still has me very flustered and stressed out. I shouldn't be - I got the money back, but I just keep replaying the yelling and the fighting in the showroom and the negative vibe that was there. Even though everything should be A-O.K. and I watched the guy credit my card, and I even received a receipt, I still won't completely worry free until I see that credit on our credit card bill. Unfortunately, it can take several days for it to show up. I guess if it doesn't we can always challenge the charge with our credit card company. I never want to have to call that place back again!
I could not stop thinking about the entire ordeal last night. I tossed and turned until I finally got out of bed and took two Tylenol PM's. Today, my stomach has been tossing and turning. It has to be all stress related from this incident.
I hate confrontation. I back down from it like a shy little orphan girl that is getting adopted by hungry hyenas. I get befuddled and rattled until I am so overly traumatized that I do not make rational decisions. I remember once, when I was working at a call center, a man called to complain that he had not received his software kit that he had ordered months ago. Sensing that I was vulnerable to conflict, he totally took advantage of my weakness. He belittled me and called me every name in the book until my voice was shaking and I was unable to speak. I should have just hung up on him, but I was new and was worried about having the call monitored. I should have just hung up on him though. When the call ended, I had to go out into the hall to compose myself. But I will never forget that one man. Some jobs are just not worth the abuse.
In Junior High I was exiting a classroom. Little did I know that a very large Tongan boy was running down the hallway at full speed. His face hit the door that I was opening with such force that it knocked him clean over. I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, staring at him. I had never before felt such overwhelming fear. In my mind I knew I must say something. Through my throat I let out an inaudible and perplexingly faint "Are you okay?"
The boy gathered himself, stood up and lifted me by the front of my shirt. He pinned me against the wall and gave me three solid sucker punches to the gut. By this time, people had gathered around expecting a full fledged fight. A full fledged fight was not something I could provide at this time.
I rolled around on the floor, attempting with ever gasp to regain the air that had been knocked out of me. My voice became that of a overweight, dying toad as I embarrassingly suffered in the middle of D hall and in front of 50 of my peers. No, there would be no retaliation. The boy simply walked off, leaving me in the middle of the floor to face death and humiliation. I knew from a young age that dealing with conflict was not my thing.
I am lucky to have married Cathi. She is one tough cookie and does much better in conflict situations. She does not thrive on it, but at least she keeps her composure.
I am sure the stress will subside as time passes and especially when I see that credit on our credit card bill.