Taking Another Look at Rage
So I've been thinking about rage. Or wrath, as it's known to you deadly sin fans. I think it gets a bad rap, you know. We're all encouraged from a young age to be "nice" to each other. And as a result, we all bottle up the rage that we feel every day, for the little slights. For example, when Pete from Marketing takes your parking space. Instead of taking a tire iron and doing a little improvisational body work on Pete's car, we choke it down and say to ourselves "Oh, I guess Pete forgot. I'll just go park in the auxilliary lot over in Saskatchewan."
And then when Pete says "Hey, I thought I'd take a look at the Developer's Guide. Your rule syntax is all wrong. And there's typos everywhere. It looks like you just pounded your forehead on the keyboard." Instead of saying, "How's about I pound YOUR forehead with the keyboard, asshat!" We say, "Thank you! I always appreciate feedback."
No more. As part of my new Rage-Centered lifestyle, I'm going to allow my rage to express itself. When Pete comes back to tell me that we really should use the words "customer designed" rather than "customized", I'm going to thank him politely, and punch him repeatedly in the groin while making wild speculations about the level of his wife's fidelity. And I bet that when it's over, we'll both feel better. Well, maybe not Pete. He'll probably be curled on the ground, weeping quietly. But hey, I'll feel better, and isn't that what it's all about?
And then when Pete says "Hey, I thought I'd take a look at the Developer's Guide. Your rule syntax is all wrong. And there's typos everywhere. It looks like you just pounded your forehead on the keyboard." Instead of saying, "How's about I pound YOUR forehead with the keyboard, asshat!" We say, "Thank you! I always appreciate feedback."
No more. As part of my new Rage-Centered lifestyle, I'm going to allow my rage to express itself. When Pete comes back to tell me that we really should use the words "customer designed" rather than "customized", I'm going to thank him politely, and punch him repeatedly in the groin while making wild speculations about the level of his wife's fidelity. And I bet that when it's over, we'll both feel better. Well, maybe not Pete. He'll probably be curled on the ground, weeping quietly. But hey, I'll feel better, and isn't that what it's all about?
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