The day the workshop imploded

[resonant]

Today, in the middle of my state-mandated resume workshop, the instructor had some sort of seizure. That's when I realized how useless I am in an emergency.



There were about a dozen of us in the class, which we had to take as a condition of receiving unemployment. So none of us wanted to be there, and from the suspicious glances passing back and forth, each of us suspected that the rest were all good-for-nothing layabouts or hardcore unemployables, unlike herself, who had simply been the victim of malice or bad luck.

I know I was in nonstop judgment mode as we all gathered in the waiting room: Really, if he wants a job, wouldn't you think he'd shave, for heaven's sake? And her -- her pants are cut so low that when she sits down, I see the entire back of her thong, which has a ruffle of pink fabric with black polka-dots, and thus clashes wildly with her green-and-brown striped hip-huggers. And that one obviously looked through the social pages of "Town & Country" before she chose her clothes, but the yachting look is a little out of place in the unemployment office. And, yes, my girl, if you buy a tight T-shirt with a long word across the chest in semi-legible script, people are going to be staring at your boobs, so there's no need to glare ...

About ten minutes late, the instructor came, apologized, and led us into the classroom. We chose our seats carefully so that no two people had to sit together. Everyone gave Thong Girl a wide berth. She didn't seem to care, just sat down, took a large bag of chips and a large bottle of pop out of a bag with much noisy rattling, and settled in for a snack.

Once we were seated, the instructor began trying, rather clumsily, to draw us into active participation. It was an uphill battle. Thong Girl packed so much resentment into stating her name (which was, oddly, Myra) that it would have taken courage to ask her anything else. Stubble Guy had been on unemployment long enough to be on a first-name basis with everyone in the office and wasted a lot of time with ingratiating comments. Plus, English was obviously the instructor's second language, and everyone had to say everything twice before she could understand them.

I'm telling all this to explain why we were all disposed to be irritated and unresponsive.

After a while, the instructor's answers became vague and repetitive. Her eyes began to drift to the left and upward; I caught several people looking in the same direction, and it occurred to me that she might have cue cards or something up there.

Then her sentences started to slow down and trail off. We all began exchanging embarrassed giggles and glances: Was she drunk, maybe? Her eyes were now fixed on the ceiling.

There was a long silence.

One of the other students got her attention. "Ma'am?" she said. "Ma'am?" Then she asked a longwinded question about job training. The instructor wasn't able to look at her, but she started a sentence that was somewhat relevant to the question. But then she began to repeat herself, and then she trailed off.

There was another long silence.

By now, in my head I was standing up and saying, "Are you all right?" But in reality I just sat there, staring dully at a pink sheet of paper with "Tips for Networking" across the top of it. Thong Girl got up and walked out. The instructor began to lean to the left. Thong Girl came back in and sat down again.

Then there was a great flurry of activity. A bunch of employees came in and hurried us all out, and I heard someone calling 911, and someone herded us back into the waiting room and gave one of those official non-explanations ("She has a medical condition") and asked us to wait until they'd taken care of the instructor and then we could go back into the room and get our stuff.

Eventually the paramedics arrived and went into the classroom and shut the door behind them, and eventually they came out again with the instructor strapped, sitting up, to a wheeled stretcher, still staring fixedly up and to the left.

In the waiting room, after a short silence, we all started talking. Where before we'd been silentlly sizing each other up, we were now very friendly and all inclined to hope for the best for the others. We speculated on what was wrong with the instructor and on whether we'd be required to take the workshop again. (Someone said, "Well, the unemployment service probably has an opening for a workshop instructor.") We congratulated Thong Girl on having the presence of mind to actually go and tell someone there was a problem.

And then we all started trying to explain why none of the rest of us had done it, but we couldn't.

I still don't understand it. It isn't as though the proper thing didn't occur to me. In my head I could hear myself saying, "Do you need some help?"

Here's the only theory I was able to come up with. You learn, when you're a kid, that the appropriate response to most kinds of abnormal behavior is to ignore them. Your uncle drinking too much and telling off-color jokes in a loud voice at Christmas? Ignore him. That one girl from the Special Ed class drooling on the playground? Ignore her.

So when presented with someone who was acting "not right," we all sat there uncomfortably and ignored her.

In the waiting room I'd been looking at Thong Girl's clothes and quite literally thinking, "She has no idea what's appropriate." Turns out it was a good thing.

Comments

[jacquez.livejournal.com]

She didn't seem to care, just sat down, took a large bag of chips and a large bottle of pop

Asking about "pop" - do you mind telling me where you learned that word? I live in the midst of ongoing soda vs. pop wars, so I am curious. :)

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

I grew up in North Carolina, where all soft drinks are called Coke. (Conversation overheard at a restaurant: "And what to drink?" "Coke." "What kind?" "Mountain Dew.")

Here in Illinois, though, what I hear people say is pop. (Very flat, nasal vowel: Paaaaaaaaaahp.) I don't hear anybody say "soda" from anyplace east of Minnesota.

[darthfox.livejournal.com]

the "pop" thing goes as far east as northeastern ohio -- and apparently as far as pittsburgh, where it overlaps with the "soda" thing, eh, laura? my parents are both from new york, so we were a "soda" island in a sea of "pop"; and when i got to college, my freshman roommate was from way eastern north carolina, and all soft drinks were called "drinks". the vending machine was a drinks machine, and if she asked you if you wanted a drink, she wasn't offering water or juice.

but she may just have been a freak.

[jacquez.livejournal.com]

Right, Fox - "pop" is what native* Pittsburghers call it; I call it "soda". Since I went to school and now work in a mostly non-native community, I see things like signs on soda machines with signs on them on which "pop" and "soda" have been alternately scribbled and crossed out.

As in Res's experience, "pop" is not pronounced "pop" but rather "paaahhhp". :D

* for some versions of native, not including my siblings who were born here but who were raised by my NJ-born mother.

[kassrachel.livejournal.com]

In South Texas where I was born and reared, it's called "soda."

"Pop," to my mind, is a totally midwestern locution. It's what my cousins from Minnesota call the stuff. *shrug*

[mjstone.livejournal.com]

*waves hands* East Tennessee, born, raised and presently enrolled as a Vol - I say soda.

I am made fun of because everything here is also "coke"

Then again, my mum's a yank and I drink unsweet tea *shrugs*.

Sorry about posting to something written in March, but I had to comment.

[mamajoan.livejournal.com]

You probably know all about the Dialect Survey (http://hcs.harvard.edu/~golder/dialect/) then, eh? I love it. It pushes my statistic-loving buttons.

[lexin.livejournal.com]

"Pop" (as in Mom and Pop) is what people in some parts of the UK call it, as in: "Do you want a bottle of pop?" to a thirsty child. Where my Dad came from (Yorkshire) water was ironically referred to as 'corporation pop'. If we want coke, we say Coke (or Pepsi).

As for the poor instructor lady...I think it's human nature to wonder what to do and not do anything. I expect the same would have happened here, unless one of the people in the room was a first-aider, and perhaps even then.

Sorry to hear you're unemployed, that's a bummer.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

Sorry to hear you're unemployed, that's a bummer.

Eh. It was a very nasty shock and a blow to my ego, but on the other hand, between the state and the spouse, I'm quite well provided for, and I'm using the time to write a romance novel. darthfox says I should think of it as "a state-funded arts grant."

[dracostella.livejournal.com]

I think it takes a great amount of courage to take action that might end up being embarrassing. I think people fear embarrassment and making a scene more than many more tangible fears.
And while I don't want to sound patronizing (and probably am ending up doing so nonetheless), I think most people wouldn't have reflected on the incident as you have. I think in some ways, if we were to look through the world constantly through the eyes of a writer, constantly figuring out (or making up) people's motivations and flaws, we think and reflect a great deal more than we would otherwise.

[giglet.livejournal.com]

It's hard to do something different from the people around you, especially in a situation like this. It really is.

[ardent-muses.livejournal.com]

I like your theory.

I also think that our brains like to see things in context so much that they ignore pieces that don't fit. For example, you see your algebra teacher in the grocery store and you can't remember her name. The brain shies away from things that don't fit what we're expecting. I wonder if that's a secondary reason people didn't react.

Also, what a great short story this is! Sad, obviously, because it's true, but you constructed it very skillfully. I'm glad you posted it.

[halimede.livejournal.com]

Here's the only theory I was able to come up with. You learn, when you're a kid, that the appropriate response to most kinds of abnormal behavior is to ignore them.

That's the theory, at least according to the psych research I've read about it. Even if you're not a kid anymore, you're still afraid you might 'get into trouble' if you act on your own initiative.

It happened to me too, years and years ago when I was sixteen and working in a shop, a customer had a full falling-on-the-ground epileptic seizure, and do you know what I did? I kept counting back change to another customer as if I couldn't see it. The other customer had more presence of mind, thank god. It scared me, caused me to question what I was doing and why, made me resolve not to ignore things like that next time they happened but judge each situation as it came along in the interests of acting as appropriately (appropriate to the situation, not 'ettiquette') as possible. Including running scenarios in my head of the most appropriate action in my mind. (Sometimes it might be appropriate to go up to the person and offer help, sometimes it would be smarter to stay the hell away and call help from a safe distance, etc.)

I think it helped me do that. There have been situations where I felt that initial anxious urge to ignore things, which is now a warning flag for me. And I looked at the situation, made a choice whether to act or not, and how, and did what I felt was the best thing to do. I'm very proud of the time I crossed the street to help an elderly woman whose little scooter (like a motorised wheelchair) was stuck in a pothole. It may seem like a small thing, but I was feeling very shy about going up to her and asking if she needed help. It would have been much more comfortable to give in to the anxiety and ignore her, but I didn't. Go me! :)

In the waiting room I'd been looking at Thong Girl's clothes and quite literally thinking, "She has no idea what's appropriate." Turns out it was a good thing

Word.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

It happened to me too, years and years ago when I was sixteen and working in a shop, a customer had a full falling-on-the-ground epileptic seizure, and do you know what I did? I kept counting back change to another customer as if I couldn't see it.

Oh, wow. I can so see myself doing that. Numbly, as though waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

made me resolve not to ignore things like that next time they happened but judge each situation as it came along in the interests of acting as appropriately (appropriate to the situation, not 'ettiquette') as possible. Including running scenarios in my head of the most appropriate action in my mind. ... There have been situations where I felt that initial anxious urge to ignore things, which is now a warning flag for me.

The spouse pointed out that the same instinct that made me act "normally" while someone was having a seizure might also make me act "normally" while someone did something that could harm my preschooler, which was a terrifying thought.

So when we talked about it, we came to exactly the same conclusion you did -- that we could take that anxiety and use it as a warning. (Have you read Gavin de Becker's Protecting the Gift? He recommends the same thing for observing when someone might mean you harm: When you hear your brain saying, "Oh, no, I'm sure he's a perfectly harmless man," you should pay attention to that as a red flag that tells you some other part of your brain has been trying to warn you of something not-right.)

In a strange way, it seems connected to why things went south in such a spectacular way in my old job: I had a very difficult boss, and I hate conflict, so I didn't confront her when I needed to, and we went from "unestablished relationship" to "no relationship whatsoever," while I mentally disconnected myself from the relationship and the job, and thus lost all enthusiasm for my work. So I'm also going to try to take note of those mental messages I get when I'm avoiding necessary conflict (the ones that say, "Well, it was rather an ignorant question, and I'm sure she didn't mean to be rude"), and use those, too, as a signal to stop and think about what the best response would be instead of following an unhelpful instinct.

[halimede.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow. I can so see myself doing that. Numbly, as though waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

Numb and brittle and trying hard not to think. Frighteningly enough, I succeeded with the not thinking, which feels awful, actually. That was the scariest part.

(Have you read Gavin de Becker's Protecting the Gift? He recommends the same thing for observing when someone might mean you harm: When you hear your brain saying, "Oh, no, I'm sure he's a perfectly harmless man," you should pay attention to that as a red flag that tells you some other part of your brain has been trying to warn you of something not-right.)

Nope, haven't read it. Sounds like a very good strategy just to ask yourself 'and why am I suddenly thinking that, hmmm?' I do tend to catch the initial 'warning bells' that precede this, usually, but I've been training myself to listen (and not be embarrassed about listening) for a long time now.
What I read for inspiration was:
Her Wits About Her: Self-Defense Success Stories by Women (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0060961724/qid=1048719765/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/104-9737643-3479925?v=glance&s=books)
Lots of women listening to warning bells, from little ones to humongous ones.

and use those, too, as a signal to stop and think about what the best response would be instead of following an unhelpful instinct

I was going to tell you about my husband who prefers to avoid conflict too, and how he's learning not to make 'blanket judgements' but look at each situation as it comes, and then I remembered that thebratqueen did this incredibly helpful post recently. Really, I've printed it out and I'm thinking of having it laminated.
Read it here. (http://www.livejournal.com/users/thebratqueen/218243.html?view=1619331#t1619331)

[tradescant.livejournal.com]

It didn't help, I think, that your instructor's symptoms weren't immediately recognizable as symptoms at all--if she were having a heart attack, or choking, it's quite likely that someone would have reacted more quickly, but as it was, you weren't even sure at first that something was wrong. It's very difficult to know how to deal with situations you don't have any protocol for, and I think that's where most people balk. It's where I balk, anyway.

We call everything Coke, too, down here. Or if we're feeling posh, we say Soft Drinks.

[resonant8.livejournal.com]

your instructor's symptoms weren't immediately recognizable as symptoms at all

Right, exactly. I've seen someone have a full-on epileptic seizure, with falling down and writhing and a strange creepy scream that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck, but since this wasn't violent, it didn't trigger any urgency.

Or if we're feeling posh, we say Soft Drinks.

We did that in NC, too. I had one of those linguistic thrills when I was served plum pudding with "hard sauce" and realized it was "hard" because it wasn't "soft" -- i.e. it had brandy or something in it.

[jack-pride.livejournal.com]

Seizures are tricky, especially since there generally isn't anything to do except call 911 if it's long enough. I agree that if she's started to choke, you would have at least have had a better idea of how to react.

Along a slightly different vein, I used to work as a support worker with the disabled, taking them out into the community. One woman, who had been in a car accident as a girl and had brain damage, used to go off like a loose canon. So there we are, in the middle of a shopping mall, me and my fellow worker (dress casual) carrying a struggling female body out into a car.

We got a fair amount of strange looks, but you would be surprised (or maybe not) by how few people ask if things are all right as long as you look like you have the right to do something.