The Day I Used My Big Girl Voice
I should start this out by admitting that I am not fantastic about speaking up. I would rather sit and be miserable than exert myself and fix things so I’m not miserable. It extends to things like returning items at a store or even ordering pizza over the phone. It takes a lot for me to use my voice.
I work out of the house, so I’ve been with the workmen through the renovation. It’s stressful due to the noise and the lack of access to the kitchen, but also the social side of things: having to talk to people and be around people when I am accustomed to having conversations solely with Truman.
The renovation had mostly been going according to plan when we hit a snag. They installed the new sink and it was nothing like our old sink. The contractor had promised the sink would be larger than my existing sink, but this was a lot smaller. A lot smaller. Like unusably small. Like a doll-sized sink.
The workman commented that it was small, but he continued to work on installing it while I stood there, my stomach in knots. I was miserable with the idea of using this sink — which was smaller than my bathroom sink — for eternity. I went upstairs and paused for a moment to email Josh and my mother, and then went back down and told the guy to stop working so I could think this through. We were going to call the contractor and have this corrected because I was not going to buy all new, smaller cookware just to use this tiny sink.
Josh came home and got involved, and at first the contractor told us that we were imagining things and liars. Luckily, I took photographs and had evidence, and all the workers there agreed that the new sink was much smaller than the old one. One of the workers even called his boss to tell him he was wrong. And finally the contractor agreed to fix the problem (since it turned out that he had written down the wrong number on the contract) and the counter top and sink were carted away.
It was hardly an impressive victory for a normal person: all I did was point out that what he told us we would get is not what we were actually getting. But to walk downstairs and say, “stop!” And drag out the camera and argue with my photographic evidence. And stand and talk to a bunch of strangers. It was big for me.
I am much better at speaking up when it involves the kids, but this is the first time I could think of in a long time where I put my foot down and said, “uh, no” when the twins weren’t in the vicinity. I used my big girl voice, and I liked it.
A side note: Tomorrow is #MicroblogMonday. Get writing.