After last year’s bathroom tile debacle, I thought I’d got to the bottom of my indecision; but choosing carpets would suggest that I haven’t got there quite yet.
After a week of yo yo-ing between ivory and almond, and learning the shift patterns of the various Carpet Right staff, I’m clearly still struggling; but, this time, I don’t think the problem is knowing what I want – it’s living with the consequence that’s holding me back.
My head doesn’t do mistakes and it’s certainly not into forgiving.
It is judge, jury and executioner; and it doesn’t scrimp on the sentence. Whether we’re talking about shades of cream or life choices, the price of getting it wrong is rarely worth the risk –
and should be avoided at all costs.
And so, with the threat of making the wrong decision hanging, ominously, above me; and the dread of getting it wrong shadowing every move I make, I am driving myself – and the Carpet Right staff – to the point of distraction.
And, because I would rather pass the responsibility to far better equipped shoulders, and I seem to exonerate other people in a way that I am unable to exonerate myself; I am back into checking up (what do you think?) and checking out (what would you do?), and checking in (is this okay?) mode –
It is quite difficult to advise someone on a carpet when you’re speaking over the phone.
It is virtually impossible to amalgamate the feedback from multiple sources, with different levels of carpet expertise, and differing tastes in shades of cream.
But it is better than the alternative.
Or is it?
I am not sure when I decided that my judgement shouldn’t be trusted, and it’s hard to determine whether the verdict is mine – or an echo of someone else.
I can’t recall whether I made a momentous mistake, at some point, or if the source of my fear lies in the exaggerated blow of personal disappointment –
Only, each time I go through this process, I seem to be reinforcing the message that I am not quite competent; and, every time I get dragged into the torturous yes-no-yes-no conversation, I just seem to be increasing the ammunition for the next time I have to make a decision (which I could, if I gave myself a chance) –
Or am asked an opinion (which might be worth hearing, if I wasn’t fearing the recrimination) –
Or am deciding what to do next –
Which could – when I’m not looking over my shoulder and lost in indecision – be anything….