On being ... a pest

By Ingrid Sapona

I realize I may lack objectivity about this, but I think my parents did a pretty good job raising me and my sisters. They were strict, but not overly so. To be honest, I’m not even sure strict is the right word because none of us were particularly prone to trouble or even particularly difficult, as kids go. If anything, I’d say the rules Mom and Dad required us to live by had more to do with manners and politeness. Things like saying please and thank you, saying hello when people came over, being on time, and so on. Indeed, I think all those behaviours they insisted on have helped me in my personal and professional life.

There was one thing my mother used to nag me about, however, that didn’t serve me particularly well. The admonition that I internalized and that subtly hampered me into adulthood was her warnings against being a pest. Actually, most of the time her exact words were “don’t pester me about …” or “quit pestering me”, which is not the same thing as warning against being a pest. And, I suspect she used those phrases rather than saying “shut up”, which was an expression that was strictly VERBOTEN in our house. (To this day I never say “shut up” – and to the best of my knowledge, neither of my sisters do either. Not just that – whenever I hear that expression it’s like fingernails on a chalk board! I simply can’t stand it.)

So, back to the p word and how my deep-seated (some might say, irrational) concern about whether my behaviour amounts to pestering plays out in my life. It came up just the other day, in fact. Here’s what happened: I offered to help on a project for an organization I belong to. By the time I heard about the project, it was pretty far along, but it was something I had experience with and I had some ideas. In my e-mail offering to help I made it clear that I would completely understand if they turned down my offer, given the advanced stage of the project. At the same time, I wanted to convey my sincerity in offering to help and I promised that I’d attend to the matter promptly, if they were interested. I closed the e-mail assuring them I would respect whatever decision they made.

A couple of weeks passed and, though I wondered what was going on, I let it go. Then one morning I got an e-mail from someone on the committee saying they needed my comments as soon as possible, given the tight deadline they were under. Unfortunately, I was tied up that day, but I responded to let them know I’d attend to it by the close of business the following day. The person I responded to then wrote back and was a bit defensive. She mentioned earlier e-mails she and someone else on the committee allegedly sent responding to my initial offer and when she realized I hadn’t started working on it, she wondered whether I could actually do it in such a short period.

The miscommunication put a bit of pressure on me, as I felt it important to deliver as promised. (It also made me wonder whether I had somehow missed the e-mails. Naturally I went back and checked and, in fact, I never received the ones referred to.) After I submitted the project, I thought about the way it unfolded and I was angry with myself for not following up after making my initial offer. I know it sounds silly, but I didn’t because I was afraid I’d be seen as pestering the committee. They had my offer and I didn’t want to seem pushy, so I intentionally hung back.

The fact is, I do that a lot. When I’m aware I’m hanging back, I try to objectively assess whether taking action would be considered being pushy or pestering. The thing is, it’s hard for me to remember that the invisible threshold that constituted pestering as far as my mother was concerned vis-à-vis her children, isn’t necessarily the one that I should apply in a business context or with friends.

I’ve finally come to realize that though I used to blame my mother for my obsession with being a pest, that’s not fair. If anything, I owe her a debt of gratitude because no one likes a pest – and thanks to how she raised me, I know I’m not one. That said, I also know that for years I’ve used it as an excuse for inaction, particularly when I’m feeling insecure. That, unfortunately, is a much bigger problem to wrestle with and something I’m still working on…

© 2014 Ingrid Sapona