just made a scene at work
kinda.
one of the good things about my work is that I get to do a lot of cool stuff like go on lunch excursions and help throw massive 500-person events and bring in entertainers and stuff.
today we brought in a group of improv performers who would 'act out' a story that an audience member told. it's pretty cool, actually.
except when it's my turn.
most people I know wouldn't believe me but public speaking freaks me out.
especially when I'm unprepared.
(mostly when I'm unprepared)
like when I'm sitting in a room with twenty people and they're all urging me to tell a "funny story" and I'm trying to politely decline and they're all going
alyson yr so funny. tell us a funny story alyson.
fuck.
so on the spot I ramble some lame and completely unfunny story because who can come up with a funny story on the spot?
not me I tell you.
and halfway through I realize 'shit this isn't funny. this isn't even a good story'
and I feel the shakes and redness and wobbly voice kick in
and of course the woman running the improv group is doting on me because she can tell that I'm getting anxious and telling me what a good job I'm doing and
she keeps focusing on me and putting her hand on my shoulder which is making it worse because her weird clammy hand is on my skin and
they're going through the motions improv-ing this horrible story which is just making it worse because it's not funny and I can feel myself getting redder and redder and I'm playing with my rings and my fingernails and anything I can pick at or twist
and of course I can't just leave. getting up and walking out would just make it worse so I tell myself
just sit through it. it'll be over soon.
and then omg the woman is kneeling in front of me telling me how it's okay and how I'm 'such a sport' for sharing and just
no. fuck off. you're making it worse. go dote on someone else
I want to yell. but I don't because it's work and it's not polite to yell at the improv lady so I don't
I sit there twisting my ring and my hair and feeling my face flush bright red
waiting for this horrible experience to end.
now I remember why I hate improv.
