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Showing posts from May, 2014

It's an Aspie on the phone...

'Madam, your deadline was the 5th of this month...'

A pause so that I can insert the stupendously important reason why I didn't send my forms back in time. The call centre person is waiting, his tone has been efficient and officious since I was put through and he obviously expects a really good answer for my complete lack of organisation. What can I say?

I flash through the options in that super-quick way you develop after so very many years of having to think of on-the-spot excuses. Oh well, none of them will sound good.

I reply with a simple, 'Yes,' agreeing with him. I know the deadline was the 5th.

There is another pause. Call centre people aren't used to this. They can deal with lateness but only if you offer reasons and they are trained to filter the excuses from the reasons too. It's something like quality control but without much quality by the end.

There is a slight sigh, then I'm told, 'The deadline has passed so you will need to re-submi…

Seeing things through Aspie eyes

Imagine a toy box full of bricks. They're the building bricks kind with those little house shapes so you can make your very own town. All brightly coloured and smart, brand new from the shop. How lovely they look, inviting and begging small hands to take them out and play!

Then the box is tipped over, sending bricks, houses, tiny wooden cars and all the shapes you love are sent tumbling across the floor. They scatter, some landing in heaps, others rolling off next to the door. They are everywhere, and this is how toddlers like them: all over the place, ready to be picked up one-by-one as needed.

These bricks don't belong in the box, you see, where they look neat and gleaming in the light from the nursery window; they belong on the floor so little hands can choose them without having to rummage through a massive pile to find what they need.

You have a happy, unconcerned toddler on the floor, choosing bricks and building their own little world. And then the aspie toddler arrive…

Sometimes it's good to be obsessive...

It's not always a bad thing to be an obsessive person who hyper-focuses: I may not get around to doing my tax return and the sink is (quite literally) going to collapse before I buy a new one, but I have used my tenaciously obsessive side to tame the beast of the call centre.

I was due some money and it didn't come. I've dealt with this before and knew the likely reasons so I buckled up my courage and rang the call centre. I was quickly tossed from a reasonable person to someone who acted as if it was my fault I hadn't been paid and insisted on explaining my own situation to me, as if I didn't understand.

Readers, I am usually good at call centre beasts. I find if you visualise them as a human being with a job to do then your voice doesn't degenerate so quickly into a tongue-biting growl. But no, I was to be told things I already knew in a scolding voice, then told to wait every few seconds while she read my file and caught up on the fact it was their fault.