I do not do well making personal decisions under pressure. I am not even talking about a “red wire, green wire” situation.
It could be as simple as being the last one to order when out to dinner with friends. Who wants to be the one holding up the order? My anxiety riddled self just pops out and I am all “JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL!!!!!” the minute a waiter looks at me.
There are many,many,many times when I am at a restaurant and there is nothing on the menu that looks good to me. Unfortunately, I am rather picky when it comes to food and as rule I try to hide it. If I am the last person to order, whatever item I happen to glance at is what I request, hopefully in a calm, quiet manner.
Which is why, I ended up with the worlds largest platter of Fried Clams. An entire plate of just Fried Clams…All 5 lbs just for me…
This is a moment shared with close friends so I can never run from it, I can only embrace it.
Now when we are out in public and HG sees that look start to cross my face he gently whispers “don’t go all fried clams, okay?”
Occasionally a passer-by will hear and glance nervously at me as if “going all fried clams” is a code word for going kamikaze or crapping myself. They usually just keep walking.
Anxiety, you are a bitch, and your Trucker name is “Fried Clams”