After the Tone, Please State Your Name

I love turtlenecks. Fashionable? Not really. Practical in my world? Extremely. Whenever I feel like I am put on the spot or I get nervous or anxious, my neck looks like it is being overtaken by hives. They aren't really hives, just blotches. Big, ugly, red welt-looking things that scream "LOOK AT ME!" And they only appear in situations when all I want to do is blend in. In these certain situations, I start to freak out about how I look, which only makes them worse. So the turtleneck and I have become great friends. I am much more confident knowing my neck is completely covered. I would rather risk looking slightly unfashionable than looking like I am suddenly having an allergic reaction to peanuts or something.

Think fall and winter are my favorite seasons because of the changing leaves, cooler temps and beautiful snow? Think again. They are prime turtleneck seasons, which makes my life oh so much easier. Spring and Summer turtlenecks are extremely hard to come by. I buy several in different colors if and when I can find one.

My trusty turtleneck collection has gotten me through many an interview, important meeting, training session and church liturgy. I can pretty much predict when I am going to need one based on the subject matter at hand or the people I am going to have to deal with. If I even sense there could be conflict in a meeting, I go straight to the neatly organized section in my closet.

Lately, however, I have been surprised to find that I need a turtleneck at the most bizarre times. My world seems to revolve around conference calls and whenever I dial in and am asked to state my name, I can feel my neck start to get red. It is so weird. All I have to do is state my name to announce I have joined the call. That's it. I don't have to sing the national anthem, I don't have to whistle zipp-edy do dah, I don't even have to offer one of my interpretive dances via teleconference. All I have to do is state my name after the tone. No one can see me, but everyone can hear me.

I find my pulse starting to quicken when I realize I am two minutes away from dialing in. I stare at my clock and watch it tick down until the alarm reminder on my computer forces me to pick up the phone. It's ridiculous. My new trick is to dial in three or four minutes early so that I can state my name and be guaranteed that no one will hear me because I am always the first person on the line. This plan is genius, if you ask me. Genius or sad and pathetic. I am going to go with genius.

And for those of you who have read this entire post and wonder if I ever sport the dickie like cousin Eddie in Christmas vacation...the answer is no. Only real turtlenecks on her conference calls for this girl.