It’s too peopley outside
This is definitely at the top of my list of things that aren't words, but should be. My daughter, who knows I'm an introvert, got me this sticker for my birthday last year. I keep it next to my desk.
Many of you know I'm not fond of the introvert-as-hermit trope. We aren't all misanthropic people who revel exclusively in our own company at the expense of social connection.
I'm a social person who enjoys the company of others. It's also literally my job to listen to people talking one-on-one -- and to do plenty of talking myself in front of groups. I'm coming up on six years in this role full-time, and find it hard to imagine doing anything else for a living.
Instead, "too peopley" is a reminder that certain activities and situations are going to run down my introvert batteries very quickly. So I need to stay aware and stop the drain, or find a way to recharge.
"Too peopley" is most cocktail parties and formal networking events, especially when I'm by myself and don't know anyone there. I usually just skip these.
"Too peopley" is being seated in the middle of a large table of people at dinner, and struggling to land on one neighbor or two for conversation. I end up bouncing around too much in my head. I'll make a point to sit near the end of the table instead, and I really prefer smaller group meals.
"Too peopley" is loud voices that I cannot escape or avoid easily. I love live music, and I enjoy the collective energy of a crowd at a coffee shop. But please don't put me in a long line behind someone who's yelling into their phone. Or under a speaker on an airplane that's blaring the latest, most exciting and very detailed credit card offer from a flight attendant. I usually bring noise-cancelling headphones with me when I travel.
I left my largest, most complicated leadership role behind 10 years ago this summer. In hindsight, I'd had so many days in that job that were achingly, unavoidably peopley. I'd come out of my office after 8 or 9 or 10 meetings in a row, feeling like I wanted to spend the next few hours in a dark, silent room somewhere. Instead, it was a rush-hour commute -- possibly with a podcast, possibly another work call or two -- before shifting into family mode for the night and starting all over again the next day.
I'm exhausted just thinking about it a decade later. If this is your reality, let's talk. We can work together to find a less peopley way for you to be.