At Least It Wasn't Brady!

Do you have anyone in your life that makes you totally and completely nervous? Are there any high-level executives or medical professionals or even celebrities that make you tongue-tied? Your palms sweat and your heart races at the mere thought of speaking to them?

I always used to think I could easily befriend Jennifer Aniston or even a broken-hearted Britney Spears because I’m not usually star-struck. I could care less what kind of tuna Jessica Simpson ate or whether Brad Pitt has another kid. The only people who have really made me star-struck were Pope John Paul II in 1999 (from, like, 200 feet away) and Brady Quinn at Notre Dame stadium (for obvious reasons). However, I did not have occasion to *talk* to either of them. I could handle my sweating palms and racing heart from afar!

So the dynamic changes a bit when you have to *talk* to someone. You want them to think you’re a svelte, suave, savvy, eloquent human being and there’s nothing like that sort of pressure to, well, make your palms sweaty and heart race.

I have this complex with Jim Henson, the CEO of Muppetville. Pardon my potential blasphemy here, but he reminds me of a god (small “g” not large “G”). He wields so much power, seems omnipotent, and I would invariably run into him at Muppet Corporate when I worked there. I’d instantly find my heart racing and tongue fumbling to make our short interaction worth his godly time and noteworthy in his memory. I’m not sure why he intimidates me so; he’s just a person. That’s what I tell my nurses when they are nervous about talking to a doctor or another staff member about talking to Elvis. They’re just people! They have fears and cry and barf just like the rest of us.

[I told you, I’m probably clinically crazy].

Anyway, I still have this complex a little bit when I see Jim around St. Fozzie’s. I’m fine in scheduled meetings; my heart rate has a chance to return to normal before I speak. But when he catches me unaware, I’m a wreck. A couple months ago, he called St. Fozzie’s for me and I walked so fast from the boardroom to my office that I was out of breath. I couldn’t talk the first 3 minutes of the conversation because I had no oxygen in my bloodstream. Then just last week, I walked out of the ladies’ room and physically ran into him in the hallway by the boardroom . Then ten minutes later, he was standing 2 feet from my office door, shuffling papers and stapling things (don’t we have a secretary around to help with that?!). The words, “Jim-do-you-need-my-office-cuz-you-can-have-it-if-you-need-it” came rushing breathlessly out of my mouth in a non-coherent, crazy manner.

Yeah, I was cool that day. Major ROI toward an inpatient psyche ward.

So imagine my surprise when I was sitting in a regularly-scheduled meeting this afternoon and my pager suddenly buzzed to life. I looked down and it was a number from which Jim has called me from Muppet Corporate. I excused myself, trying to quell the sweaty-palm, racing-heart phenomenon and dialed the number from my office. It wasn’t Jim, but Jim’s next-in-command, the Muppet system CMO. I had emailed him a quick question the day before and instead of emailing back, he paged me so we could talk in person.

It was actually really nice of him to take time out of his day to talk to lil’ ol’ me, but I could’ve passed on the adrenaline that dripped down my spine! We had a great talk and once my dumb parasynthetic nervous system calmed down, I was fine.

Thank goodness it wasn’t the Pope calling! Or worse, Brady Quinn!