Member-only story
Here Come The Pajama Brigade
There’s nothing to worry about.
It’s no big deal.
It’s not worth getting worked up over.
It’s just an observation, a single 75 minute inconvenience, a new requirement, a new hoop designed by the pajama people who run things, all of it over in a flash.
You know what you are doing. This is not rocket science. This is not open-heart surgery. The stakes are not life and death.
The worst that might happen: you are embarrassed. You lose a little face. Maybe you are written up for something, a note goes in your file. It’s not going to kill you, if you get a little red in the face, stutter, forget a word or two, or a little sweat forms on your brow.
Some people like to be watched. They enjoy the attention. It feels good to them. They seek it. They crave it. They want it all the time. They don’t mind speaking in front of a group of people. They don’t mind sharing a taxi with a stranger. They find it enjoyable striking up a conversation with a fellow fan at the game.
I am not like this.
I prefer to be alone.
I prefer not to be watched.
I feel self-conscious when people are around, which is to say, I am overly conscious of the people, with a need to please, and a complete…
