I get all jittery and distractible when I deal with money. Apparently, this is common. It’s classified as a phobia – chrometophobia.
I’d rather go and clean the toil –
Damn. It’s been done. Guess I’ll have to write this.
I try to psyche myself up for it.
“Ok Gareth, you can do it. All you gotta do is phone them and say – hey look, is that a hawk? In St Heliers? Better find a camera!”
I try to trick myself.
“Look, you don’t have to phone them, just get the number and put it into your phone. Then we can see what it feels like you know. There we go that was easy! Now what happens if you press the green button?”
That works quite well.
Visiting banks is a bit easier. I walk to them. On the way there, I tell myself awesomely stupid and deeply personal stories (normally involving a Porsche, sexy people and saving the world through maths/writing/a hitherto-undiscovered form of ninjitsu) so that by the time I arrive it’s too late to stop myself.
That works beautifully.
Hiding behind a computer doesn’t work. I can email people all fucking day about money. They don’t respond. I think the email comes through as “This person is avoiding talking to you because he blah blah hates blah blah blah you.” So they click “spam” or “delete” or “ignore” or “What email?” or “How to get a long penis” and I sit here. Waiting. For fuck all.
Unfortunately, ignoring the problem doesn’t work either. It brings me lots of letters and phone calls – which is nice – but it’s best if I just say “oh look, someone sent me a letter/called me! They must love me” and then ignore call/throw letter into deepest burning pit of hell – followed quickly by every aspiration to say “This is mine and it belongs to me and I am its.”
So I have to deal with it. I have to put aside my doubts and anxiety and fear and racing heart and take the little steps.
It’s so easy to say “Fuck it, I don’t even care.” I’ve done that for many years. At school, I used to be quite happy saying “I don’t like money, and it shall never be mine and I won’t miss it no not ever!” but that’s the same as saying “AHHH! IT’S BIG AND SCARY AND HAS TEETH ON IT’S HAIRS TAKEITAWAYTAKEITAWAY please.”
So I take the little steps. Break each of these monstrous tasks down to a series of barely noticeable reactions, take the first step and boom!
There’s only 79 to go.
But that’s ok. Because 79 is smaller than 100 and a lot more acceptable than the whole.