How I learned to work customer-facing jobs after convincing myself I couldn't
Having 50 people say thank you to you in a day helps
A wise man once told me receptionist was a good job for somebody newly sober. He was right, as most of the people I met where I met him are. I was a few weeks into a 9-5 temp assignment somewhere big in Midtown, doing something I'd never been paid to do: make people smile.
Obviously that's not what the job is. It's coordination and security. I made sure every guest was accounted for, and the assistant of whoever they were meeting was ready to receive them. There was a lot of downtime, so I spent time exploring the intricacies of the corporations web filter. I learned that I could circumvent it by playing emulated DOS games on archive.org. I also wrote a lot.
I soon came to realize the point was assuring executives and analysts that their guests were in good hands; convincing them I was a normal person who could talk up Australian businessmen and pantsuited San Francisco tech VPs. I tried, hard, but I mostly chummed with a few frequent visitors and bent my ear to the problems of assistants.
I went a little too hard trying to change my personality. I went a little too hard trying to turn to God for help every single time I faced a new scenario. I don't blame myself for this, as I had a few weeks sober from alcohol and wasn't sure what my life would look like without booze. I was making myself anxious with service. Anxious with *gulp* prayer. They're supposed to be meditative, quieting the little 'you' in your head and replacing it with 'God,' (which from an athiest standpoint is just what you know you should be doing or thinking but refuse to). Ultimately, I needed then and still do now to constantly remind myself that I can help people and that help is help whether or not I say the wrong thing or mess up a hand shake.
I had always figured I was due rote labor until I could convince someone to pay me to do whatever they do in government offices. Sure, my favorite job in college was explaining how our digital radio station worked to freshmen, but I was paid mostly to wash dishes. In college I mean.
You are probably a lot better at small talk than you think. You might surprise yourself immensely. I sure did. Though everyone close to me has told me for decades that I am amicable and sweet. That's my money maker.
They let me go, anyway. They usually do. I keep on, jamming doors open and impressing myself constantly.