It's the difference between being laughed with or laughed at, being a stand-up or a trip-down comic, and the only difference between Bill Cosby and me. Trust me, I know full well which side I'm on.
When I was little, I was calling an animal shelter to ask what items they needed most from our elementary school's collection. I was greeted by an employee:
"Hello?"
I took a big swallow and then spit out the following phrase:
"HiIWasWonderingWhatItemsYouNeededAtYourAnimalShelter".
"Oh thanks for calling! What's your name?"
A question I did not anticipate. I froze....and then burst into tears and hung up the phone. Smooth.
When I said that I was "little", I meant that I was about ten years old. Eight years later, I still can't order a pizza in person and the reason I choose Domino's is not because of the crust or flavor, it's because they let me order online.
"Hello?"
I took a big swallow and then spit out the following phrase:
"HiIWasWonderingWhatItemsYouNeededAtYourAnimalShelter".
"Oh thanks for calling! What's your name?"
A question I did not anticipate. I froze....and then burst into tears and hung up the phone. Smooth.
When I said that I was "little", I meant that I was about ten years old. Eight years later, I still can't order a pizza in person and the reason I choose Domino's is not because of the crust or flavor, it's because they let me order online.
So when I got an email saying that NYO wanted to interview me for an documentary that they'd be filming about the inaugural season, an opportunity that everyone would obviously want to jump at, I was less than thrilled. I decided to confirm the interview not because it was a great opportunity, but because, if I didn't, my mom would have killed me. I don't blame her. After your child has been sitting in the back of the orchestra for her whole life, you get quite tired of picking out the top of her hair in the end of the year slideshow. Although, the cowlick I have going on some days is quite adorable if I may say so myself. Either way, I committed and picked a date.
It was a Skype interview. So much worse than a phone call. It would probably be longer than 30 seconds, there would be questions that required intelligent thought, and, worst of all, they would probably ask me what my name was. But this time, I decided would be different. I trained harder than Oscar Pistorius and I didn't even have to kill anyone (too soon?) I thought of questions they might ask, I tested and retested my internet connection, and completed the entire princess routine with Julie Andrews from The Princess Diaries.
And with all of that practice, I was woefully unprepared. Due to the fact that I don't always check the calendar before making an appointment (Are you really that surprised?), I discovered that I would not be able to use my well-tested internet connection and the background for the interview that was just the right amount of class without the trying too hard part would have to be left at home. Instead, I had to set up next to the classrooms at my church because my sister had a rehearsal. On the bright side, it definitely didn't look like I was trying too hard.
"Are you at a school or something?"
It's a Saturday. I couldn't really tell if she was joking or not because the video on her computer wasn't working. Her profile picture, the inspiring New York City skyline, was not really helpful when attempting to decipher visual cues. Skyscrapers, despite their giant glass facade, aren't the best windows to the soul. But she had to be joking right?
"Ha...um, no. I have this--well this function thing--and my sister--in the other room there's a rehearsal..so yeah."
So yeah?!? What are you doing?! Wait, stay positive. It couldn't have been that bad, at least you didn't cry, right?
"Okay, sounds fun, ready to get started?"
As ready as the kids on 16 and Pregnant are for a baby. But, we started anyway.
"Have you ever been out of the country?"
"Um...no. This will be my first time."
"Oh, you must be excited then. Are you scared?"
Of this interview...yes. "A little bit."
"What's your biggest fear."
"Losing my passport."
Oh my gosh, I didn't mean to say that. Don't get me wrong. It was the truth. But somethings, like your prison record at a PTA meeting, are better left unsaid. She starts to laugh and I realize that she thinks I did it on purpose. Quick! Laugh before she realizes that you made a mistake. And thus I learned the most important rule of injury, gymnastics, and this interview: recovery. And that lesson pretty much dictated the rest of the travel questions.
After that we moved into music. And something really crazy happened. My constant urge to casually move my mouse to the red END CALL button stopped for a minute. The words started flowing a little bit and I found that I could take at least a few good strides in between my constant dance of stumbling and catching myself before I hit the ground. We talked about how I fit in to the orchestra. We talked about how my single line of notes can slide easily into the massive and powerful creation that can fill a concert hall but can also delicately handle someone's heart. We talked about what music meant to me and how something so personal and introspective can reach the ears, minds, and souls of so many people. We talked about how feelings so complicated can be so universal and widespread. We talked about something I could hold in my palms and keep trapped in between my fingers. Something that was mine and mine alone but also something that I was willing to give away to let other people experience, just for an instant, how it felt to be me. Ha. Cloud 9? More like Cloud 90.
That's really what I hope I said. That's what I wanted to say. If my mom had been listening she probably would have told me that I said 10 um's, 12 like's, and a rousing 16 "so...yeah's". But for me, that's a record for a thirty minute phone conversation. So, I'll take it.
The issue is not resolved. I still get embarrassed when buying a pair of sunglasses for the third time or when calling the Apple Store for an appointment. But I am getting better. Watch:
And with all of that practice, I was woefully unprepared. Due to the fact that I don't always check the calendar before making an appointment (Are you really that surprised?), I discovered that I would not be able to use my well-tested internet connection and the background for the interview that was just the right amount of class without the trying too hard part would have to be left at home. Instead, I had to set up next to the classrooms at my church because my sister had a rehearsal. On the bright side, it definitely didn't look like I was trying too hard.
"Are you at a school or something?"
It's a Saturday. I couldn't really tell if she was joking or not because the video on her computer wasn't working. Her profile picture, the inspiring New York City skyline, was not really helpful when attempting to decipher visual cues. Skyscrapers, despite their giant glass facade, aren't the best windows to the soul. But she had to be joking right?
"Ha...um, no. I have this--well this function thing--and my sister--in the other room there's a rehearsal..so yeah."
So yeah?!? What are you doing?! Wait, stay positive. It couldn't have been that bad, at least you didn't cry, right?
"Okay, sounds fun, ready to get started?"
As ready as the kids on 16 and Pregnant are for a baby. But, we started anyway.
"Have you ever been out of the country?"
"Um...no. This will be my first time."
"Oh, you must be excited then. Are you scared?"
Of this interview...yes. "A little bit."
"What's your biggest fear."
"Losing my passport."
Oh my gosh, I didn't mean to say that. Don't get me wrong. It was the truth. But somethings, like your prison record at a PTA meeting, are better left unsaid. She starts to laugh and I realize that she thinks I did it on purpose. Quick! Laugh before she realizes that you made a mistake. And thus I learned the most important rule of injury, gymnastics, and this interview: recovery. And that lesson pretty much dictated the rest of the travel questions.
After that we moved into music. And something really crazy happened. My constant urge to casually move my mouse to the red END CALL button stopped for a minute. The words started flowing a little bit and I found that I could take at least a few good strides in between my constant dance of stumbling and catching myself before I hit the ground. We talked about how I fit in to the orchestra. We talked about how my single line of notes can slide easily into the massive and powerful creation that can fill a concert hall but can also delicately handle someone's heart. We talked about what music meant to me and how something so personal and introspective can reach the ears, minds, and souls of so many people. We talked about how feelings so complicated can be so universal and widespread. We talked about something I could hold in my palms and keep trapped in between my fingers. Something that was mine and mine alone but also something that I was willing to give away to let other people experience, just for an instant, how it felt to be me. Ha. Cloud 9? More like Cloud 90.
That's really what I hope I said. That's what I wanted to say. If my mom had been listening she probably would have told me that I said 10 um's, 12 like's, and a rousing 16 "so...yeah's". But for me, that's a record for a thirty minute phone conversation. So, I'll take it.
The issue is not resolved. I still get embarrassed when buying a pair of sunglasses for the third time or when calling the Apple Store for an appointment. But I am getting better. Watch:
My name is Nikki LaBonte and I--nope, I'm tearing up.
These posts... are absolutely hysterical. I am dying. I am very dying. MOAR
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love these posts. They're just wonderful.
ReplyDeleteSo where do we get to watch this amazing interview? (And it must be genetic because it took a certain cousin of yours - cough, JakeBuss, cough - until he was in his 20's to order his own fries at McDonalds!)
ReplyDelete"After that we moved into music..." well said. A few weeks ago my friend played the piano and I played jazz....recorder. It was tight. And magical. And I felt exactly as you described. You are a gifted artist, young lady, and a talented writer. Your writing carries the hallmarks of a musician. It has timbre, rhythm and melody.
ReplyDelete