Of noise and non-sense
I’ve been working from home since mid-March 2020. Val and I live in a small house, in which we have knocked down several walls to create an open-plan living space. There is no private office on the main floor; nor is there, come to think of it, a private office on the lower level, aka, the basement. Therefore, I have been using a back corner of the living room as my office space and it has been going swimmingly — until recently, when I took on a short-term teaching contract that required me to, well, teach online. Not just work online, but actively teach a group of students through the screen. What’s the issue, you ask? Well, noise, actually.
Before, a simple workday of desk work and meetings was a non-event; Val and I both just went about our business in our small house, managing around each other’s schedules. But when I began the teaching contract, noise became an issue. Specifically, kitchen noise of pots and cutlery clanging. In the background, yes, but clearly audible to me and, from some comments, also to my students.
I discussed this matter with Val and she, generously, agreed to be out of the kitchen during my class times. Unbeknownst to me, while she was elsewhere, she was researching different kinds of headsets and headphones and, one day, presented me with what seemed, to her, the logical answer to the noise issue: noise-cancelling headphones.
In a flash, I realized that we were operating in parallel universes of comprehension: She thought the kitchen noise was bothering me. I knew it was distracting to the students — via the apparently very sensitive mic built into my ear-buds. Noise cancelling headphones would do nothing to solve the matter, as the mic was the issue not the ear phone part of the set-up.
Once I explained this crucial detail, which I had wholly neglected to make clear in our original discussion, we both laughed about the serious misunderstanding we had created between us. And Val said what she often says at moments like this, “It’s just as well you have only a master’s in communication and not a PhD. Goodness only knows how serious our miscommunications would be if you were more highly educated!”
She ditched the order for noise-cancelling headphones and my teaching contract is finished soon, so we will return to regular programming in our little house, where noise can happily occur and no students will be on the other side of my screen.
This short tale proves that the shoemaker’s kids do, indeed, often go without shoes. Or, in the case of a (so-called) communication expert, the partner often goes without clear and complete conversations.
———
Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.
Photo by Joel De Vera on Unsplash
This is funny.
ReplyDeleteDiane and I have learned to laugh at these miscommunications. Miscues like that are inevitable in a long-term relationship, and learning to laugh about them helps to preserve the bond.
ReplyDeleteKevin: As a fellow former communication instructor, you clearly know what you're talking about! LOL
DeleteYour post today is so timely. Myself and Mel are wrestling with the same issue in our small bungalow, other people's noise, his and mine. Only my solution is much more costly. I have convinced Mel we need to add second story for my work space. I never even considered acceptance of what is as a possibility.
ReplyDelete