An inconvenient story-telling truth

I'm a storyteller, just in case you didn't notice, and, like a good short story writer, I like my stories to be completely heard in one setting. When that doesn't happen, I get frustrated. And, the frustration tends to grow as I get older.

I used to love to read or tell stories to my English classes. Kids loved it cuz I got off the subject. More times than not, however, I'd get to the climactic part of the story, a loud noise would break from the intercom, and one of the office secretaries would announce "Code 13," which everyone knew meant that a toilet was plugged and the custodian needed to report to the scene immediately with a plunger.

Or, we might get the full meal deal with a detailed announcement about tonight's junior varsity game being cancelled due to bus problems.

Invariably, when these interruptions occurred, and it happened frequently, I launched an evil stare toward the intercom, even though I knew those dear secretaries were only doing their job. They had no idea how frustrating it was for me to be in my classroom trying to do my job, only to have it all fragmented and to have lost all semblance of attention from my students.

Often, the announcement would last long enough for the dismissal bell to add to my desperate attempt to finish my story. I'd shoot my "halt-sit-there-in-your-desk" hand into the air, and do my best to shout out those last key sentences, knowing full well that not one kid was listening.

I'd dismiss them, sit at my desk, defeated, shake my head and cuss under my breath about once more losing the teaching game and having another story ruined by the bell and that damn intercom. Of course, I couldn't hold a candle to my English-teaching colleague, Glen Ford.

One day when Tim Teeslink and Darren Parsons sang their original song during the morning announcements, he ripped the intercom off his wall in Room 2, wires and all. The principal gave it to him as a retirement gift a few months later.

It occurred to me yesterday that there's yet another setting ripe for moments of storyteller disappointment. That's the annual Christmas Craft Sale at the Bonner County Fairgrounds, or any craft sale, for that matter.

The demographic make-up of such events contributes heavily to the frustration of those who like to tell things.

Why?

Well, these events are made up of people who've come to sell stuff. Then, there are people who come to buy stuff. There are also a lot of people who come with no money in their pocket but armed with a strong desire to talk because this event gave them an excuse to get out of the house on a wet, cold day and go find somebody who cares. Then, there are the kids who do the ballet and all their parents.

At these events, most characters know one another. So, they're ripe for lots of moments of conversation, but, oh, so fragmented.

Here are some of the problems.

The people who have come to sell stuff are happy to have folks stop by their booth because each two-legged visitor represents a potential buyer. So, the visiting begins. And, when the people with no money in their pockets start telling their stories, they usually don't take a breath. This incites great stress on the part of the seller because often the one telling the stories is also blocking a portion of the products for sale.

Then, along comes a person with money in his/her pocket and a desire to buy something. Well, that potential buyer can't exactly see everything on display and is too polite to interrupt a conversation, so they stand as patiently as possible directly behind the babbler with no money.

As the scene unfolds, the seller quits listening to the storyteller, and goes into multi-task mode, pretending to listen to the talker who won't shut up, while also establishing eye contact with the potential buyer, loaded with a message: "When this person finally shuts up, maybe I can wait on you."

It's a tricky dynamic, to say the least. Lots of sales are lost and stories ruined in these scenarios, especially because the long-winded storyteller is totally oblivious as to why the seller is sitting in the booth with all that merchandise anyway.

I also noticed my own storytelling frustrations yesterday while sitting at a booth where I was supposed to be selling and autographing books. Friends would come along. I would get hot into a story that just had to be told.

A person with money and the desire to buy a book would come along. Dang! I'd have to shut up, tell the friend it had been nice seeing them, send them on their way and sell the book to the person with money.

Then, there are situations like I experienced with my friend and neighbor, Ardella yesterday. She walked by several times, hoping to visit. Invariably, someone would be there buying a book, and I'd have to keep talking up a storm, so I'd simply smile and wave at her.

I felt bad so later, I walked over to her booth. Ardella had a bunch of people with money in their pockets wanting to buy, so she reciprocated with a smile and wave, loaded with the message, "Maybe one of these days we'll get to visit."

I've seen these situations occur at a lot of craft sales in the past, but as I get older, I'm also noticing a new problem associated with juggling sales and telling stories . . . . now what was I talking about, and who was I telling?

Speaking of that problem, Kathy of Wite's Wabbit Wanch, please call me. I think I forgot to write down your email address while we were telling all those stories at Vanderford's the other night.

And, I do have a story to tell you.