What you don't understand

Social behavior is the epitome of a disgusting normality that has always been ignored. Take a normal meet and greet for instance. In a single moment, when meeting a new person, you can completely break them down just by looking at their posture and their hand motions. Do they go for a handshake? A hug? Do they greet you at all with a physical action or do they acknowledge you with a nonverbal facial expression? These are only a few behaviors that are depicted in everyday life, yet some, in a business aspect, tend to ignore such human reactions. Being nervous is seen as a sign of weakness as ones’ shaky hands or moist pit stains could render a confrontation null and void. But why are such human instances a bother in today’s world? Since when has being human ever been a negative aspect of life, while confronting another human being? Well today, I’m going to demonstrate how you can ignore these pitiful instances and render your nervous tendencies, non-existent. Hi, I’m George Notingham and these are just a few ways to overcome anxiety.

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The faint sound of George’s voice echoed through the cramped studio apartment. The stench of old pizza and dirty clothes stained the walls of its horrid odor as its reeking fragrance reached the elevator at the other end of the hall. Clothes covered his couch and bed as they sat within ten feet of each other, and his refrigerator hummed a continuous tune that implied its struggle to make ice. The hardwood flooring, layered on each floor and in every room, creaked to the movement of Georges’ restless foot, swiftly gyrating upwards and down.

 

The celling cried dust and broken paint chips as the noisy upstairs neighbors were having another physical argument. The building itself ached and cracked from the frail foundation it stood on. The only thing separating the small studio apartment and the hallway leading to it was a faded white wooden door with a window, secured with a half-broken chain lock.

 

While George sat at his desk, focusing on his speech on ‘Anxiety within social norms’, sirens wailed outside of his window. The ringing sounds of gunshots and screaming echoed back and forth, but George didn’t flinch. He was fixed on his words as he continued his focus for an upcoming seminar he was forced into, through a conversation he regretted having.

 

Earlier that day

 

“George? Is that you,” a guy in a suit called to him.

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“I’m sorry do I know you” George asked, turning to him in confusion.

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“It’s me! Karl! From high school! We used to eat lunch together. We picked on Samantha for wearing those short shorts to school, then pulled her pants down in the middle of the cafeteria!”

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“Oh, Karl! Hey, long time, no see.”

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“Yeah, it’s been a while. What’s going on man?

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“Well. . .,” George said, hesitantly. Before Karl walked up, he was walking around the city trying to find a job and asking for money from strangers. He wore his best shirt, which was just a plain white polo with a mustard stain almost centered under the collar and some khaki pants. His shoes had a hole where his toe was and he didn’t have any socks on.

 

He shaved that morning, so his face was somewhat well groomed, but his hair was wild with bed head and a hint of lice, but he was used to the feeling and didn’t scratch as often as others. However, given his current appearance, he couldn’t believe the way he responded to Karl’s question. “Things are going great. I’m not in the medical field like I wanted to be in high school, but, I am a Psychological Researcher. And, actually right now I’m doing a study on the social behaviors of business men, often called the highest social communist of human behavior, to homeless men, woman, and poor families in the area, hints my current attire and demeanor.”

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“Wow! I don’t even understand most of what that means, but that’s great! I always figured you would pursue something that benefited the people. That research stuff has always intrigued me.”

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“Yeah, but hey it was good seeing you. I have to go, I think my research subject is walking around the corner over there,” he said pointing to a random street corner. “This is the last bit of research I need to be completely done with my thesis! But, hey it was nice seeing you again.”

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“Hey! George wait,” Karl said as he began to fiddle with his brief case. “I’m glad I bumped into you! I have an event coming up in a few days. It’s pretty much like a fundraiser or scholarship presentation. People show up, representing a certain firm, and present their idea. Then if someone likes it, they give you money to pursue it. I’m lacking personality in my firm right now, and I think you can represent us well. Plus, we laid off a lot of people this past fall, but more Christmas bonus for me, am I right!”

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“Yeah. I guess.”

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“Cool, so here’s my card. Call me tomorrow and we can look at what you have so far, then go from there,” he said passing George a laminated card. “Have my people call your people. Ha! I kid, I kid, okay I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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Suddenly, a car rode up and a man got out of the front seat and walked to the side. He opened up the back door and Karl got in, then the man closed the door and the window started to roll down.

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“It was nice seeing you again, George. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, buddy.”

The man walked back to the front seat and got in. Then the window rolled up and the car started to drive away.

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Present

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“12:01 am,” his clock read to him.

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His leg continued to shake and his palms began to sweat. The sirens and screaming outside of his window came closer to his location and the upstairs neighbors seemed to have been purposely jumping on the floor, as paint chips and dust started to rain down on his head. The temperature began to rise and the humming from the refrigerator seemed to have gotten louder. Then a loud banging sound boomed through the hall way.

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“This is the police! Open up!”

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The cops were at a neighbors’ door, banging on it and yelling for them to open it. Then a loud crackling noise was heard. The door was being forced open. The wood began to crack with each loud clash of the officers’ forceful lean on the door.

 

Thud* thud* thud*

 

Finally, the door swung open, and like the sound of a tall tree falling in the woods, the door was broken. Muffled noises and words were muddled after the initial door breaking, but were noisy none-the-less. George began to refocus on his paper again, as the sounds of his city were trying to distract him.

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“This is the police! Open up,” he heard again. But this time, it was closer. He heard the door swing open, as the latches sung a familiar tune.

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“Yes, what do you want,” said Mrs. Farcus.

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“We’ve dealt with the deviants in apartment 224. Are there any other problems you want us to take care of while we’re here,” the officer asked.

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“Actually, yes. Do you see that door at the end of the hall there? He hasn’t been paying his rent for the past two months and I want him gone. Can you do an old landlord a favor and escort him out of the building for me, please.”

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“Will do ma’am,” the officers stated as the latches of the door squeaked closed.

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Suddenly, sound became narrow. The noise of the sirens outside resided and the fighting and jumping from upstairs resorted to a faint tapping noise. George stopped tapping his leg and the humming from his refrigerator seemed to have stopped. The only sound that was present in his mind were footsteps. The loud thundering steps of officers’ shoes clacking with hardwood floors and random papers on the ground was getting louder.

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The hallway was long, but Mrs. Farcus’s door was only two doors away from his. He could hear the sound of silver from the officers’ belts rubbing up against the cloth of their pants as it began to increase. With only a few seconds to react, George stood up and started walking towards the door, in anticipation to the officers’ advance. The nearer they got the louder their footsteps became. A light draft in the crack of his front door guided him to the knob, then he unlatched the broken chain and proceeded to open the door. Slowly, the groaning of the latches screamed as the doors motion revealed the officers on the other side, just as they were about to knock.

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“What can I do you for officers,” George asked.

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“We hear you haven’t been paying your rent lately, so were going to have to ask you to leave,” the officers stated in a forceful tone.

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“Don’t I have a few days to gather my things before I’m evicted? Don’t I get a notice?”

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The officers let out a disappointed sigh then started to rustle some papers.

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“As you can see here, there are a ton of papers on your door both asking for your rent and stating your move out date. We don’t have time for this, let’s just make this easy. Today is that day,” the officer stated.

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George didn’t immediately reply to the officers’ statement and heightened tone. He just stood there for a while.

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“Sir, we’re going to escort you out of the building.”

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“I have a question for you,” George said.

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“You can ask us when we get outside,” the cop said as he gripped George’s arm and proceeded to pull him out of his apartment and towards the elevator.

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George stumbled a bit then was forced to walk with the cops. Then he asked his question.

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“What would you do if you were blind?

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“The cops stopped, then took a step back to look at Georges eyes a little closer as he calmly continued to speak.

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“Every day, I walk around town looking for jobs but no one will hire me because I can’t see, and even when I ask my landlord to be courteous of my non-sight, she refuses to cooperate and doesn’t print my payment notices in braille. I’ve only been here for two months and she refused to help me in any way, but she wants me to pay her. Instead of evicting a poor man who is trying to pay rent, I think you should be asking Mrs. Farcus why she hasn’t been cooperating with me.”

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The cops looked at each other then back at George, and started to chuckle. Then quickly continued to walk him towards the elevator and out of the building. Without another word towards him, the cops left George outside by the front door and walked back in the building. George, not knowing what to do, picked a direction and started walking.

 

He was homeless for the first time in a long time. The sound of honking raced past him, echoing a furious driver with each passing car. He left his cane in the apartment, so he couldn’t completely tell where he was, however, the smell of freshly made pretzels revealed his location. He was near his favorite park. With nothing to look forward to and nothing to hold him back, he walked to his favorite spot, under a hollowed out dying tree, and sat by it.

 

In that very spot, he could hear a TV resonating in the distance and smell the most exquisite smells from the city’s finest places. On the TV, he could hear the voice of a news castor reporting a story about a shooting near his location. The reporter went on and on about the shooters apparent religion, political views, and race. The entirety of that new reporters’ description would mean more discrimination and prejudice for those who were too blind to see the true intentions of that event.

 

For many people in the area, it was another reason to push people, like the shooter, in the dark and stereotype, but, for George, it was just another day without light.

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