I've always had an ambiguous conception of things like Autism and social disorders. The cynic in the back of my mind always wants to say it's over-analyzing differences of personality, and that anyone can do anything socially if they exercise enough willpower and try at it. The rational side of my mind, the one I try to listen to, knows that the brain is an organ like any other organ, and it has many involuntary functions and room for fundamental differences in performance; when your seat of consciousness wants to think something or act a certain way, there's only so much you can do about it from within your brain.
I've never been sure on where I place myself in regards to these things, not least because I don't really know anything about Autism and such. Maybe even more than that, I think self-diagnosis, especially of psychological and mental conditions, is ridiculous and powerfully uncool. And some of it is just plain old pride - I don't want to be told that there's something my brain just "can't" do, and I certainly don't want to hear that from myself.
I am now on Day 2 of being a work-from-home telemarketer, and I feel like I'm going to have a stroke. I've always been a somewhat reclusive person, but I never felt like I had a fundamental problem with talking to people. Certainly I don't think I lack for empathy or understanding of other people's reactions. It's more about myself, that I am terribly socially-conscious, especially about attracting attention to myself. I was worse as a child, and maybe some of it is lingering gradeschool scars or something, I don't know. But cold-calling people from my home is rapidly killing me.
The more I think about it, the more clear the causes become. I don't have a problem in itself with being the center of attention, as long as I'm prepared for it. I can give speeches, even do stand-up comedy (if not improvise). The similarity in all those is that my "audience", whether a stage or classroom or family dinner, is made of people who want to hear from me. They're sitting there, maybe patiently, maybe disinterestedly, but they know they have to listen to me if they don't already like me. I'm in a position of power over the audience, because they came to me (or it's their fault for being there if they didn't want to be). I could be a cashier or a car salesman or a goddamn rockstar (if I had the wherewithal), because I'm still the one in charge of the human interaction.
Telemarketing, or going door to door like my last failed job, is different. I'm contacting people who don't want to hear from me. I'm butting into their business to ask if I can butt further into their business. And I fucking hate it. Rationally, it shouldn't be a problem. I can do the math and realize that getting fifty rejections for every one acceptance is perfectly normal, especially when most of my calls just go to answering machines. I can think about the potential rewards, and how this is the first job in six months to even let me in the door (precisely because they don't have to pay me if I suck at it). I can think about the fact that I am leaving absolutely no lasting impression on any of the people I'm calling; nobody remembers telemarketers, and I'm not even being annoying, and it's not like I'll meet anyone I call. (I'm also conscious of how my voice sounds over the phone, but there's nothing to be done about that.)
But I've spent the last half hour pacing around the room and staring out the window, emailing my boss, and writing this post. Because just picking up the phone puts a lump in my throat; I go on autopilot once I start talking, and it's actually a huge relief when someone answers, no matter how indifferent or annoyed they sound. But I can't shake it. There's a part of my brain generating this intense irrational fear of continuing, that I have no conscious control over. Being at home doesn't help either; instead of making me comfortable or something, it just means there's no one around to tell me to quit wasting time. I'd function better if I was trapped in business-casual with nothing to do but work.
So I'm sitting here stewing in the fear-chemicals my limbic system is pumping like it's trying to put out a fire, hating myself for not having the willpower to pick up a goddamn phone, hating myself for wanting to continue this knowing I don't even get paid if I don't set any appointments. I can't stop thinking that I'm wasting my time, because even if I have any talent for this, my attitude is certainly going to jynx it, not least because I can't get myself to work more than an hour at a time. I'm sick of giving up, I hate giving up, and my conscious mind doesn't want to give up. But every fiber in my being that I don't have any control over sure as fuck wants to give up and hide from the phone, and it's really really hard to do anything but listen.