‘Tis the Season

Stayed up until 2 am clearing away Inner Child years up to elementary school –– now the real work begins –– but all my New-Found Serenity was called into question again at the UPS store.
My challenge there has been since the very first phone call with a guy I’ll just call Z.
At first I honestly thought that Z was getting sadistic pleasure out of his worshipful observance of every technicality of some UPS rulebook.
But I’ve grown to realize that while he does exhibit some joy about following all the rules to the letter, it’s really the emotion of RELIEF he’s showing, relief from major FEAR.
Somehow this seems particularly potent to me while doing Inner Child work –– although somehow it had no effect on dissipating my disproportionate rage while everything takes 20% longer than necessary.
Here’s the set-up:
In November I signed the Hollywood option papers for my novel, but no one told me until afterwards that I needed 4 copies of the agreement.
No one seems to care that much either –– I faxed over the signed agreement immediately and got my option check right after –– but I decided that I was going to “play by the book” and get the other copies signed and everything priority mailed off to LA before year-end.
[I’m telling you this so you understand that the Edward Vilga character starts this story TRYING to get all the T’s crossed and I’s dotted –– that’s his motivation.]
Z’s job as a notary is simply to witness my signature and confirm my ID.  That’s easy enough.  But rather than doing the usual notary stamp on the actual contract, he says he “feels more comfortable” using the store’s form which also involves thumb-printing me and then stamping SEE ATTACHED FORM on the contract (rather than signing/stamping it.)
Fine, I’m willing to defer to his comfort level.  It seems equally, if not more, official.
But today it was a little over the top because since I printed all 4 copies of the 15 page document from my computer and they were still unstapled, he couldn’t give me them back until they were each stapled.  Of course, everything had gotten slightly scrambled, so I let him staple them, and then unstapled them and proceeded to reorganize the (unnumbered — PC/MAC) pages on the counter.
Z kept saying “this is for both of our protection,” but I really felt the need to ask, “against what?”
I mean honestly, this is an option for a novel for a feature film project from someone who makes major movies.  Of all the possible problems I can imagine in the future –– from movie star tantrums to studio politics –– I strongly suspect that the notary public’s identification of my signature is ever going to be called into question.
Why does all this irritate me so much –– and obliterate the joy I felt moments before opening my box to see Belle’s centerfold spread (all very G-rated) on January’s BAY WOOF magazine?
Of course, to quote Emerson, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,” and that’s always going to be irritating, but there’s more to it than that.
Now that I know it’s not sadism motivating Z’s desire to conform, I find the FEAR behind it all really unappealing.  More than that, it really provokes anger in me.
There’s something … cowering … about the “by the book” stuff, an unspecified (I asked him “what do you really think could happen here if you don’t staple the pages? … no response) yet overwhelming fear.
As Susan’s pointed out, he’s actually living out the Bravo TV edict that Rachel Zoe and Jeremiah and everyone else spoke to the confessional camera constantly:  EVERYTHING IS ON THE LINE.
Listen, I can relate –– I WAS an altar boy, however far away that reality seems –– and a general fear of making some kind of tragic mistake permeated so much of my childhood.
Note:  In the musical version of this, I’d be the madcap character who gets Z to loosen up and grab life by the balls (from MAME to HELLO DOLLY to SCROOGE, that’s what always happens);  soon, the Z character would toss all the official forms in the air and begin dancing on the counter.
Now, I’m not sure that’s what I’m wanting for him but still …
Will anything result from this re-framing, I wonder?  Will my viewing him as forever afraid and connecting that with my own fearful inner child change anything in our interactions?
Will my frustration at every transaction being executed “by the book” soften if I heal my own relationship with the perpetually and inexplicably afraid parts of my psyche?
Frankly, it is rather hilarious that I have put so much thought into these frankly incidental encounters with Z.
Anyway, do you think his Inner Child wants an Xmas gift from mine … or is that just getting WAY TOO WEIRD?

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