Interview/Interpersonal Journals Garrett Meyer
Entry 1
I am President of the Missouri Academy Student Government Association (MASGA), and with that capacity comes a significant amount of public speaking. I am expected to be knowledgeable, coherent and attention-holding in meetings and out. There is little room for butterflies when speaking as an elected leader to a group of over 60 of your peers. However, I relish the challenge. I understand first the importance of staying well-informed as the basis of quality communication—this comes relatively easily with my passion for the organization. Coherency and effectiveness are two traits upon which I constantly must improve. It is easy for me to over-estimate my audience’s interest in the subject matter, and my most efficient techniques when I recognize that I’m losing attention are to change volume level or to cut to a different subject or interpretation.
There was an interesting scene at the MASGA meeting this Monday. I spent a regrettably large amount of time lecturing, and one student began to fall asleep. I paused, grabbed a marker and tossed it twenty feet into his lap. My intended message with this act was firstly, wake him up without calling him out verbally, and secondly, I’m not opposed to having fun in meetings. I recognize though that the scene leaves much room for different outcomes. The student or others could have felt excessively embarrassed. I could have mishandled the situation by drawing attention to his inattentiveness, making the meeting seem more boring for others. I could have been framed as immature or wasteful of time. No doubt that few people have analyzed the scene as thoroughly as I have in this journal entry, but it still intrigues me.
Entry 2
I help organize community service events for Missouri Academy students, and one of the largest aspects of my duties is making people aware of the opportunities. We were going to have an informational meeting for interested students on one of the floor common areas—we had previously had similar meetings at the same location, and had advertised the gathering for a couple of days. However, approximately three hours before we had scheduled the meeting, I was informed that another group, Future Business Leaders of America (FBLA), was going to have a meeting of its own in the space in the same narrow time slot we had claimed. Given the rather impromptu nature of our meeting compared to the structure of a larger, more professional club, I was immediately passive, assuming that they had planned this meeting before we ours and that I was treading on their territory. I switched our location to a less ideal locale for the same time, hoping that our turnout would not be too heavily impacted. As our meeting time drew closer, I was informed that I was not the only one surprised by the FBLA meeting. FBLA’s own members only learned of this vital meeting through an email sent that afternoon. I watched as quite a few people grumbled about the suddenness of it all, with some heavily implying personal blame. I steered clear of this mode of thought, instead pulling my usual technique of blaming the situation and not the person. I view this as an interesting communication event because it reflects how people expect to be notified of commitments and modified plans, and how differently they can react when those expectations are not met.
Entry 3
Again, referring to my role as Missouri Academy Student Government Association President, I have a significant amount of interaction with the Northwest administration, especially those involved with campus organizations. I had placed a reservation in the Astra scheduling service for a meeting room, but it was rejected. I tried again in a different room, but was rejected again. I became nervous and visited the Student Affairs office in the Union, where I was referred to Nikki Bucy. She described for me the problem of overlapping time slots and gave me the prescription for curing it. After a week of awkwardly requesting Student Senate recognition for MASGA, running through a couple different scenarios in different meeting rooms and quite a few emails exchanged between us, I believe I will not have much further need for Ms. Bucy’s services.
While I was with Ms. Bucy in her office, waiting for a page to load, I noticed the Hoops and Yoyo (audio greeting card characters) toys that littered the room. I made small talk off them, mentioning how I always enjoyed them, as I had received one from my parents praising my “gumption…..lots and lots of gumption.” To thank her for the repetitive work she had done for me, and also to make up for the many people she has most likely helped with little in return, I bought her a Hoops and Yoyo thank you card. I was surprised the amount that the card cost—$5.27—but the intention was worth it. I wrote a small note in appreciation, sealed it in the envelope and left it on her desk while she was out to lunch. She replied later in the afternoon with an email:
“Garrett –
Thank you so much for the thoughtful card!!! Gotta love Hoops and Yoyo! I am just glad that we were able to work together to accommodate your event. Thanks again so much for your thoughtfulness and brightening my day!!
Hope you are having a great day and if you run into any other issues let me know!!
Nikki”
I truly believe that these small thoughtful acts can have a surprising impact on one person’s reputation, and more meaningfully, another person’s day.
Entry 4
Communication in normal relationships is serious enough. When you throw in hundreds and thousands of miles of distance, it becomes even direr. I have a wonderful girlfriend by the name of Darleen, whom I have been dating for ten months and counting. She attends Hofstra University in New York City, and you can see immediately the difficulty. I admit, technology like cell phones, texting, Facebook and Skype make these relationships and the communication they require tremendously easier—but it is too large of an expectation to think that they can sufficiently recover or replace all that is lost when one takes more than a few steps away.
One incident that reflects just how easily messages can be contorted by technology was a skype date that I had with Darleen last week. As we frequently do, she joked that she didn’t need me or somehow didn’t want to talk to me (a rather sarcastic humor, but one that I believe conversely demonstrates security in the relationship.) Feigning harm, I pressed “end call,” only to redial within a few seconds. My beginning smile, though, was pulled downward by every unanswered ring. She wasn’t picking up, leading me to think that I had gone too far. I left it to ring, pulling up a bit of work on my laptop while I waited for her to forgive me. I was slightly shocked/worried what was taking her so long—perhaps she had left to do something? Was she really fuming? I called her on her cell phone, talking it out, but I stopped when she said, “then you didn’t call back.” “No, I called back immediately.” She was legitimately upset at me for taking the joke too far, but the blame belonged solely upon the technology.
Entry 5
This summer, I hope to earn an internship in Washington D.C. with one of my senators or representative. I have always been intrigued by politics, and I think this would give me an excellent taste of what it really looks like. Plus, an internship would present a wealth of chances to network and to build my communication skills. To apply for these positions, I must complete a formal resume and cover letter. Though I have created a student resume which has aided me greatly in applying for colleges and scholarships, it most definitely needs to be modified for these more adult-world situations. My 9th-12th grade courses have little bearing to a prospective employer, but the Certified Student Leadership training I completed last semester does. I look forward to using a “Resumes Done Write” resource and example book that my counselor gave me to create a professional-looking and sounding resume, and to create a cover letter that reeks of professionalism.
Entry 6
In the goals of communication, of which our Oral Comm book seems to never run out, I believe that socializing and having fun is one of the most important. I notice that our ability to communicate is often tied to how well we can tell a story. The story could be about oneself to boast, others to slander, to convey an idea, defend a position, or just be silly. On the way back from the Great Plains Math League competition in Topeka, Kansas today, we played a road game called Mafia. Roles of killer, sheriff and nurse are secretly distributed to participants, and it is the narrator’s job to conduct the mechanical gameplay. But much more important than passing out cards and telling participants when to look up is his ability to weave a yarn about what is happening. Because the action occurs while the town is “asleep” (eyes closed,) participants only learn of who killed who, who the sheriff accused and what the nurse did about it by the story. I enjoy playing this role of narrator, and people seem to enjoy my placement as well. Making people laugh with outlandish stories that must be freshly created each round is a rewarding test of my creativity and comfort in group settings.
Entry 7
I had a dissatisfying talk with my girlfriend one evening which broke off with both of us feeling unsettled. I was upset about a myriad of her behaviors, but I didn’t feel like I could outright tell her because she was already upset with me and that it would probably come out unjustifiably harsh. And so pent up with this emotion, I signed off of oovoo and pulled up a Word document instead. On that blank page, I wrote my Declaration of Independence—not so much the secession, but certainly the (admittedly less eloquent) grievances to the (admittedly female) king. It began as an unalloyed rant, using spiteful questions and enough you-statements to make a conflict mediator croak. I told passersby that I was writing a blog posting, for that’s what I initially viewed to be its style—that of a private outlet, stashed in cyberspace to hide my less-than-chivalrous language. It continued for paragraphs, chillingly linking one complaint to another. I was felt an odd combination of gladness and numbness at the release—for though I was pouring out my negative feelings without the downside of them being harmful, it is not like me to rant with no resolution or hint of positivity. I could only muster a sense of defeat as I shut my laptop down to prepare for bed. But as I pondered what I had written, I stumbled across a new perspective. So intriguing was this inception that I booted back up my “blog” and began to sprint. An hour and a half later, I had developed an entirely new thesis, not hiding the message of the complaints but building more on how if I viewed my grievances through my girlfriend’s eyes, they became workable instead of stiff. This was an essay I was not going to leave to wither, but one I would continue to revise with the goal of sharing with my girlfriend. It is amazing how much better I slept, just from stringing a few more symbols together on a luminescent screen.
Entry 8
FLABBERGASTIT!
This euphemism is really, really ridiculous—even more so because it exited my own mouth as my grain truck tires spun willy-nilly in the ditch during harvest season. An absolute futility to my situation, no doubt, though the grain truck would have felt no more inclined with any coarseness of my language. I was raised not to curse, as (I assume) the majority of Midwestern children are. I can remember letting out one garbled f-bomb when I dropped a laden egg bucket on a particularly miserable day, and I have rarely mentioned s**t in applicable social situations. Other than that, I have hardly ever uttered profanity. I plug in “shoot,” “goodness gracious” and “gosh dangit” when I am upset, angry or in pain. I that profanity is an easy out and overused to induce humor. However, I do not think that accusation can be made against casual cussers. For that, and justifying to myself why I do not cuss in any situation, I believe that we have an ability to invest in and create our world as we speak. Though I admit that without cussing, your attempts to intimidate someone with a sailor mouth are either pathetic or come across as prissy. However, in denying the urge, I preserve the ability and image of a professional, mature problem-solver. In not cussing in other situations (such as impersonal anger), I believe I subconsciously dull the harshness of my irration/rage, leaving me in control of my language, demeanor and response.
Entry 9
I enjoy the fun and challenge of meeting new people. The chance to produce an entirely new image of myself is an exhilarating art. I do not toy with playing to be who I am not—but that does not stop me from putting on a bit of a persona. If I don’t see any friends as I go to sit in the Union food court, I normally ask a table of strangers if I can sit with them. They normally give a hesitant “sure,” and the judging begins. I normally try to work my way in with humor. I am not raunchy, but making humorous comments on relationships is a good way to enter.
One of my larger points in meeting someone new is remembering their name. I know that I automatically think higher of someone who can remember my name, and I dislike hearing the overused excuse, “I can do faces, but I’m bad with names.” If you want to remember someone, you will.
If I reveal that I am an Academy student, an extra layer is added—because every college student has some interpretation of us. I try to defeat any downright negative stereotypes, and I do not denounce any of my peers by trying to distance myself from them. Instead of resorting to how hard rules and curfews stink, I try to explain why we subject ourselves to them. It is my hope that as I walk out of the Union with them, these people may harbor an ounce more respect for Academy students, which they may pass on to their friends.
