Friday, August 16, 2013

A Day of Southern Comfort


My first day on Georgia Tech’s campus was filled with to-do’s, and I was anxious to get them done. It was going to require extensive wayfinding and muddling through a lot of vagueness, and my experience with administrative processes pushed me to be as prepared as possible. A stereotype of sorts existed in my head: these people were going to be cranky. They were going to want the exchange to go as smoothly as possible, and if it didn't, I’d be starting school without a head.

Two instances on this first day took my perceived social norms and stereotypes and obliterated them:

The first came during my “New Hire” paperwork submission process. They encouraged GTA/GRA students to fill out and print the forms ahead of time but would have two labs available for day-of processing. Because of a lack of printer, I had arrived with a thumb drive of compiled forms. A quick-print later, I was queued up to the first station. The woman working with me began flipping through the forms, “Do you have your G-4?”

“Uhhh…” I’m mentally checking them off… W-4, I-9… G-4? The heck? “I don’t think I do.”

Great – I look incompetent.

“I’ll go back to the lab – I can fill it out and come back –” and instead of nodding in agreement, the lady shakes her head no. “Why don’t we see if we have a blank copy and we’ll just fill it out here.”

She then spends four minutes searching for one. Each time she passes, I tell her if it’s easier, I can just come back. Each time she responds ‘it’s not a problem’ and ‘don’t worry about it’.

I’m baffled. Why is she being so nice? I’m the unprepared one.

After another minute of bustling around, she returned, slightly breathless, and said “there we are,” before handing me the document, and patiently waiting until I finished.

The entire experience struck me as strange: this lady had been there all day, working with students and filing forms, yet her demeanor was the exact opposite of what I’d stereotyped. At 2 pm, I imagined frustrated, crabby workers issuing disgruntled rejections to students approaching with missing documents. Instead, she approached the entire experience as though it was my time being wasted – not hers.

***

The second instance came when I went to get my parking pass. For this I felt better prepared: license, registration and student id number - perfect. After a 25 minute wait in line, I stepped up to the counter, and the lady asked for my information. I recited off my id# as written on my post-it and awaited her follow-up questions.

They didn't come.

Instead, she scowled slightly at the computer. “Can you say it again? I must have typed it in wrong…” So I again listed off the 9 digits, my confidence shrinking slightly. Again she scowled, “You sure that’s your number?”

Red-faced terror: “Uhhh…. Yea?”

I’ll digress for a second: One of my most irrational fears is that I’ll wake up one day going through steps to a life that I think is correct but are totally inaccurate. For instance, this would randomly occur in high school when I’d walk into, say, my Calculus class and be struck with this sudden concern that I was in some alternate universe, and I was supposed to be in French or detention. This same fear exists on the first day of classes when professors read off attendance, and I find myself with shaky hands, dry mouth and a lack of oxygen flowing to my brain as he/she gets closer to the middle of the alphabet until my name is finally called.

Anyways, this ridiculously irrational fear struck like lightning as I stood at the counter: Was I on the wrong campus? Had I accidentally accepted admission to a different school by mistake? Was I supposed to be in Montana, or something? Was I even going to school for Architecture?!

It was unexplainable, and in .003 seconds, I’d concluded myself crazy. Sensing this, the lady at the counter asked me if I had copied my number down correctly. I paused, thinking back to my random dyslexia with rushed number copying… was that the cause? I clutched at this light as I pondered the possibility. The lady asked if I had my school id with me to which I responded “no, getting it is still on my to-do list.” She followed up asking if I could access my number.

“Uhhh…” – my floundering was ridiculous. She half-smiled, asking if my phone could access it.

Oh, right!! Technology! The world in my palm! My glimmer of hope grows – “Yea, yea I can do that.”

She asks me to pass her the remaining information while I look it up. I unlock my phone, click my internet browser and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nothing. I grow restless. If I’m growing restless, I imagine this lady is fuming with hidden frustration at my incompetence. I attempt to dissuade this by explaining to her that my phone is loading. Three decades later, my phone accepts its role as a piece of 21st Century technology and allows me to type in G-Tech’s student center website.

And I wait.

At this point I’m literally spewing apology after apology:

I ask if I should leave and get back in line after I access my number. She shakes her head no and encourages me to take my time.

I follow-up expressing my concern for causing a delay to the others in line. She says there are plenty of counters to accommodate everyone.

I’m utterly baffled at this entire exchange. I feel like I've been at this counter four times longer than I spent in line. I’m waiting for this friendly demeanor to come crashing down into annoyance or disdain at my snail’s pace, but it never comes.

She finished keying in my other information hours ago at this point, and she calmly inquires about where I’m trying to pull the number from. I explain my intended route, and she nods and begins working on the computer again.

“Got it,” she says less than ten seconds later.

“What? How?” She had requested my number from some higher power immediately after learning I didn't have it. I learned their systems are responsive only to id numbers and she had messaged into some other branch asking for it to be forwarded to her.

Three minutes later, I was finished, and she smiled and thanked me for stopping in.

This kind interaction has occurred an unnatural number of times since my arrival – all with the same frazzled mindset on my part and calm, patient approach from everyone else. It’s hard to shift into a culture like this when much of my experiences have revolved around not making the other guy mad. An effort to be proficient at not wasting others’ time for fear of angry-backlash is so ingrained in me, that anything less than competent on my part has a certain degree of failure to it.


My week-long experience here has begun teaching me a new way of socializing: it’s about making the most of the interaction you're experiencing in the moment– not three minutes from now. Having experience retail/customer service, there are moments when my frustration at someone holding up the cash-wrap line due to indecision has reached near boiling point - I'd think 'why can't this guy just choose already, or at least step out of line - he's hindering the line, and then I'll have to deal with angry people!'

Here, it’s not about processing everyone as quickly as possible or feeling pushy because you're concerned the next guy in line might upset at the additional 2 minute wait – it’s ensuring the experience of the person you’re with in that moment is fulfilling.

I think I like this shift.