Page Two of Crossing the Line
A former coworker, who had since opened a typesetting and design business, suggested a solution. Les told me about a local organization that provided jobs and training to developmentally handicapped residents in our county. Simple jobs, just like the ‘hot potato’ I was trying not to drop, were accepted and finished for a very reasonable fee.
This could be a big advantage and key to submitting a competitive price quote. I promptly created a mock sample, phoned for an appointment and set out to pay a visit to the establishment. I soon discovered I wasn’t as prepared for this part of my negotiation as I thought.
When I stepped through the door, I found myself standing at the front end of a massive warehouse. Long tables placed end-to-end and aligned in precise rows consumed the floor space. As if in unison, the workers looked up from their current assignment to stare at the rare visitor to the facility. I found myself standing all alone and quite bewildered.
I spotted a reception window off to one side, eventually, but I couldn’t see anyone inside the office. I rang the service bell, which caused a wave of nervous activity down the tables. I clearly wasn’t versed in the proper protocol here and decided to wait quietly rather than touch the bell again.
Several long, self-conscious minutes passed before I tentatively ventured forward, trying to see around the corner of the reception cubicle. I could feel the tension rise without even looking at the eyes locked on my every move. I took two more ‘baby steps’ and heard a few chairs pushing back away from the tables. Frozen in place now, I peeked in the direction of the sound.
Some of the workers were out of their assigned positions and those who remained seated were no longer working. Nearly all were absorbed with my presence, punctuated with agitated gestures. There was a lot of rocking back and forth, exaggerated facial expressions and hand movements. My presence was triggering a situation that was gradually escalating. I felt terrible about being a distraction and causing tension within the group.
One young man began to approach, only to retreat again. When he repeated this two more times, I concluded it was definitely time to make a beeline for the exit: appointment canceled!
It was at that moment, and much to my relief, the supervisor entered from a side door. She greeted me warmly while at the same time gently taking me by the elbow and guiding me back to the front of the warehouse. As soon as we were halfway to the front door a blanket of calm settled over the building as though nothing had ever happened. I was more perplexed than ever.
I handed the woman my mock-up and all the specifications she would need. She told me she would phone with a price later that afternoon. I admit to experiencing feelings of gratitude and relief that I wouldn’t have to return in person for the information.
When I reached the exit I turned to thank her for her time. That’s when I finally spied the root of my ghastly blunder. How could I have been so oblivious?
Broad lines painted in the brilliant color of a yellow school bus sectioned off areas on the warehouse floor. The reception area was on one side of the cautionary line and the work area was on the opposite side. My face reddened with embarrassment: I had stepped across a clearly defined boundary. I broke the rules. My actions threatened the space and comfort zone of these dear, gentle souls. They knew the rules and I fumbled around totally ignorant.
Later, back at the printing company, I solemnly headed for my desk via the press room and bindery department. I tried to pacify myself with the notion that no one needed to know what happened. Yeah, right.
Les just happened to still be monitoring a job being printed for one of his clients.
"How’d it go over at the training center?" he wanted to know. My strategy to keep a low profile and sneak in the back door just evaporated.
