Speechless

Speechless.

I have a certain amount of ill-advised machismo when it comes to getting sick – taking pride in my good fortune that I rarely do succumb to the common cold – or if I do I still plow through, going to work and undoubtedly putting at risk my colleagues (I did say it was ill-advised) but ticking off the “toughness” box in my misguided and testosterone filled mind. Arrogantly sneering at others who use PTO days for illness when they should rightfully be used for more serious pursuits like golf or maybe enjoying one of the three perfect days we get around here.

But when I do really, really get sick every couple of years I go all out and become a quivering, whining 4 year-old that wants his mother (or my wife actually, who thankfully understands my pathetic-ness when really ill) to take care of me. Such was the case most recently but with my mother 900 or so miles away and my wife working I was left to fend for myself much of the time and a pitiful site it was – curled up in the fetal position on the couch for three days feeling morose and extremely sorry for myself.

What felled this towering monument to manhood? I had been walloped by an incredibly painful throat infection that made it extremely difficult to swallow anything (GREAT diet technique if you’re in the market for one…) or - and this is the interesting part - speak. I was rendered mute. I basically had a tennis ball (maybe I exaggerate in case my wife reads this…) lodged in my neck that let me breathe but not much else.

It hurt to talk. Usually I hurt others when I speak so I guess turnabout is fair play but this became an interesting social/cultural experiment and I discovered a few things I thought I’d share:

• People talk to you slower when they know you can’t speak – enunciating every syllable. Like your hearing is suffering or maybe you were held back in the third grade. It really is almost comical and I would have laughed if it hadn’t made me double over in pain – instead I just nodded with a slight smile like a grateful drunkard being handed a fifth of whatever.

• You need a co-pilot if you go out. Thankfully, my wife was with me when I went to the doctor’s office. Because you still get questions that require more than the simple yes or no head-shake and my sign language consists of “thumbs up”, “OK” and the “You complete me” I picked up from watching the Jerry Maguire movie (but that just confuses the doctor or nurse I find).

• The phone becomes a paperweight - as a phone anyway. You also become acutely aware that while texting is cool – it’s really only cool for lightweight communication, trying to explain a weighty personnel issue or client need is no place for a text message. E-mail is not much better and has always been the culprit of many a scorched feeling because without inflection and facial expression – what’s written in black and white is often seen that way. There’s also a certain panic that sets in when your phone rings because we’ve all been programmed to “pick up the phone” (which I see happening more and more in public restrooms and I find completely appalling). With caller ID this has become less of an issue because we can edit out whom we would like to speak to without picking up. But when the phone rings and it is someone you’d like to talk to – it takes a few rings before you realize that no – you literally can’t talk right now (sorry, Mom).

There’s more – I often speak out loud to myself and I found myself missing myself tell myself that was idiotic, can’t believe he said that, where was the freakin’ turn signal or maybe I that was the wrong thing to say. The bright side is that I can’t put my foot in my mouth – I never could literally – despite years of yoga – and now I can’t figuratively. That’s a plus.

But what I found is that vocal communication is incredibly important – especially in our profession. Yes, we often speak too much and we often say the wrong thing – but often that’s how we get to the brilliant expression or well-formed thought. I listened to a gentleman (in every manner of that appellation) named Roy Eaton accept a diversity award from the AAF for his work in breaking through what is a still shamefully too-white industry. His words were perfection, he spoke eloquently, poignantly and unapologetically about his journey through this industry as a black man. I realized then and it was driven home even more through my recent denial of voice that the spoken word matters.

Especially now. Texting, e-mail, blogs, online chat – it’s all wonderful and I utilize it often and with great result. The technology has made the face-to-face spoken conversation even more pivotal. I recommend everyone to go for 2-3 days without trying to speak.

You may find your voice.