MY WIFE “SUFFERED” FROM GLOSSOPHOBIA

Part 1

 By Dr. F. Chaudhry 

8 minute read

In accordance with the age-old practice, each year in the month of December the ruling political group nominates one of the councillors to be the mayor of our paradisal Metropolitan Borough in the English county of Lancashire. It has the population of about two hundred thousand people. The new mayor takes office from the start of the municipal year in the second week of May. It is the prerogative of the Party with a majority at the time to nominate a senior councillor to be the mayor.

The nominated mayor can then appoint any member of the family or a friend to be the mayoress or a consort, who would attend various functions with or without the mayor. In the town both the positions are deemed as very honourable. Both wear gold chains, share a chauffeured car and a secretary who has an office next to their prestigious parlours. It was at about 6.45 pm when I was walking in the town hall’s corridor towards the committee room to attend our full group’s monthly meeting. Before that, as usual, there was the executive committee meeting which had just ended. One of the councillors, who had been the mayor in the recent past and lived in our neighbourhood, stopped me and broke the news that the executive committee had determined I should be the mayor of the Borough for the forthcoming municipal year. I was pleased and thanked him for the support. Later at the full group meeting my name was unanimously approved.

I returned home at about 10.20­­­ pm and did not wake my wife to disclose the good news to her. It was in the morning at the breakfast table when I apprised her that she would be the mayoress. She felt exalted.  After taking early retirement she was a lady of leisure. She rang up her friends informing them that she would be the mayoress. They congratulated her.

It was the following Sunday when further discussion took place. She enquired what sort of activities she would undertake during the year. She was very pleased when I told her that there would be a few overseas official trips as well, including the possibility of visiting a twin town in China.

I added:

“I’m sure you would enjoy the year. You’ll preside over several meetings, including the Woman of the Year Award ceremony. It’ll be held in the Council’s banquet hall to be attended by more than 250 women from the town. You’ll make a speech….”

Before I could complete my sentence, she fumed:

“I don’t like to be the mayoress. I hate to make speeches.”

I asked her whether she had a stage fright, which she tartly denied and added:

“I don’t want to discuss the matter anymore”.

Instead of prolonging the discussion further, I left the room. There was plenty of time. But ostensibly it appeared that as it stood, there was not a dog’s chance that she would change her mind. If she did not, I had to think of other options. I was caught in a cleft stick.

My daughter, who was not only working full time, she had very young twins, boy and girl and could not spare any time to be the mayoress for a year. Besides, her husband was joining his new job about two hundred miles away. The whole family would relocate to the new place. Our son, with his wife and two very young children lived about six-minute ride from our house. But he was starting his MBA at Oxford in the next academic year. They had already rented accommodation there. We had many friends in and around the town. But their wives were working full time. Also, it did not look nice if I moved around with a friend’s wife.

The time of mayor-making was approaching apace. The impasse continued.

 One day I suggested to her that she had the degree of MA in English from a university which was more than hundred- year- old and had worked as a lecturer/teacher in different parts of the world. Thus, there was no earthly reason she should suffer from glossophobia. She did not budge an inch and further clarified that she had no fear of public speaking. Rather, the decision was made on principle.

There did not look any solution to the problem. But I was calm and confident that by and by there should be a way to cajole her into agreeing to do the job of mayoress. 

 It was a Sunday lunch time in the middle of March, I said to her passingly:

“The problem has been solved”.

“Which problem?”, she enquired.

“The Chief Executive of the Authority has been very helpful.”

What sort of help he’s providing? She queried.

I replied:

“He’s found a mayoress.”

After saying the words, I just moved into the kitchen pretending as if it were not a serious issue.

“What do you mean ‘found a mayoress’?”, she retorted.

I said:

“He has agreed that he’d give the time off to one of the Council employees, who sounds ebullient and happy to perform the civic duties. The woman he has spoken to is …..”.

I had not completed my sentence, interrupting me, she said:

“Who told you I’m not able, ready and willing to be the mayoress? I might have said something jokingly. You must’ve misunderstood me. It was nothing.  It’s a great honour to be the mayoress of our beautiful town. I’s rather very keen for it”.

She looked nauseated at the prospect of another woman to be the mayoress

I sniggered behind her back and enjoyed her remarkable volte- face. The fact was that I was hatching a ruse from the day she had declined to take the job bluntly and it struck home. I never sought any help from the Chief Executive.  I relished the trick.

As expected, I was sworn in on the Wednesday in the second week of May.

About two weeks later there was the annual Woman of the Year Award ceremony to be presided over by the mayoress. Only women were invited. The officers and councillors could watch it from the gallery. Soon the banquet hall was chock- full of the guests.  My chauffeur had reserved for me a ringside seat. Beside him, I was the only spectator.

I soon noticed that one by one more officers, including the Chief Executive and the councillors were occupying the chairs in the gallery. More chairs were fetched. Before the meeting kicked off, it looked the scene of the Alfred Hitchcock’s movie The Bird. There in a matter of minutes, close to the car in which actress Melanie Daniels (Tippi Hedren) was reading the paper and waiting for the actor Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor) to return to his house, a lot of birds had gathered.  I asked the chauffeur whether every year the gallery was filled with so many fans.  He said that he was surprised too.

The meeting started. The mayoress had checked that everything was in order. She had prepared her speech to a T. She started it in a stentorian voice and made some funny quips as well.  The audience whooped and cheered. There were five standing ovations and no booing or yawning.

 I saw some of the spectators near me gaping. Some looked uncomfortable and squirmed in their seats. I observed that before the end of the speech all of them around me left one by one sheepishly.  

 I conjectured that they might have hoped the mayoress would stumble over her words and expected a schadenfreude. But they were disappointed when listened to her flaw-free speech. Also, I was sure they must have been briefed by someone that the mayoress suffered from glossophobia. 

Who could that person be? The answer will be given in Part 2 of the story.