So, I’m going on approximately two weeks of solid work, 8am to 9pm, and it’s starting to make me a little crazy. There’s only so much time you can spend in a Starbucks, listen to NPR (love ya, but my head’s starting to hurt) or play therapist to customers who feel like it’s their duty to bare their soul to you. Yesterday I found myself elbow deep in a family sized bag of cheesy popcorn, driving 90 mph down the highway and paused thoughtfully, “Am I stressed?”
This would explain the violent bout of road rage I had earlier in the day, if you could classify it as such. A nice older gentleman cut me off carelessly, almost causing me to slam into him. “%$%^ !!!!” I yelled. “What in the #$% $$^%# @$%$%# do you think you’re #$& DOING??!” I’m not one to jump to conclusions though and I immediately followed up. “Awe, it’s ok,” I commented to the nonexistent passenger in my car. “I bet he just has a big blind spot. Or, maybe he needs glasses, he looked old. It’s not his fault. I mean…. I’m sure I’ve cut loads of people off and I’m not doing it intentionally. He’s probably just a really terrible driver. I should feel sorry for him. His chances of getting into an accident are huge! I hope he’s going to be ok. Good luck out there, sir.”
I tend to do this when I get emotional, especially when I’m angry. Big outburst followed by sincere pity and excuses for whatever asshole I am dealing with. “It’s not their fault,” is always the conclusion, and then I follow it up with some disease or dysfunction that is causing them to behave the way they are. I think I get this from my father. He always flips out for a moment or two but then manages to make some excuse for the crappy human that he’s dealing with. I would consider this a valuable trait. At least, it has to help your blood pressure. How can you possibly stay angry at someone else if they just contracted leprosy or they received their rejection letter from clown school?