Recently, I booked an interview with Reinekke Lengelle, author of Writing the Self in Bereavement: A Story of Love, Spousal Loss, and Resilience to interview her for the first part of my doctoral writing project. I loved her book so much and found it so helpful that I made notes in the margin with my highlighter because I didn’t want to waste time grabbing a pen. As I read, I drafted an interview plan in my head and in my notes. I was excited to interview Reinekke about the role of writing in making sense of life. She is a researcher and expert in therapeutic writing. Please, check out her work. (This might help her forgive me even more).
You can see what’s coming.
Three weeks after we exchanged emails and set up a time, and three hours away from my time zone in my cousin’s dark guest bedroom in Vancouver, I slept through the interview. I bolted up and out of bed to grab my laptop when I read Reinekke’s ‘I’m here and you are not’ email on my phone, and charged into an abandoned zoom room, pyjamas on, hair sticking up more than usual.
I texted, emailed and called. “I’m so sorry. I have no excuse.” (Note to apologizers everywhere: don’t say ‘but.’)
I felt ridiculous. How could I have forgotten this interview? What is wrong with me? I waited nervously for her reply, which came soon enough, and was full of forgiveness and a willingness to reschedule.
Every second day of the week leading up to our new interview date I made an event in my calendar that said, “The interview is this coming Monday.” On the Friday before the Monday, I added “You dum dum!” to my calendar reminder. It worked. The date and time were seared into my soul. I recommend this technique. Repetition + light personal shaming (the only type I will accept) + humour. When I met with Reinekke, I apologized again of course.
“Believe me, I started to feel bad for you,” she reassured me, like a gracious trooper. And I really loved our conversation. (Interview spoiler: Writing helps. Write for yourself to understand what is happening. Likely, it will help other people if you share it. Be brave and fearless, and we talked about so much more).
Two weeks later I sat in an empty zoom room tapping my fingers waiting for someone to show up. I had emailed her the day before to remind her and shared the zoom link again. She had confirmed. Where was she? Irritation started to trickle in about 12 minutes gone. I wondered when we would be able to find another opportunity during a busy time.
Then, of course, I remembered Reinekke and how understanding and gracious she had been with me.
Heal thyself, Missed-Zoom Hypocrite.
Like most of us who have been stood up on zoom, I decided to treat it as found time and moved onto another project. My flustered no-show emailed me within an hour or so, apologizing profusely, not using the word ‘but’ even once, (maybe we’re all learning!) and wondering how she could have possibly forgotten. Poor thing. I felt her pain. We found another time later that very day and I began our meeting by saying, “I literally know exactly how you feel. I did the same thing two weeks ago. I totally get it.”
Are there sweeter words to say or hear? Don’t we love to know we are not alone as we make our clumsy way in the world? I do.