Stomp Your Feet If You Wanna…

If you’ve read any of my previous posts on this site, you’re well aware that I have little tolerance for most things in life including but not limited to people, situations, cats, cab drivers, babies… let’s be honest, most objects living or not I come in contact with are going to annoy me. If you’re reading this right now and you happen to be an AT&T customer service employee just off yourself now before I track you down and do it for you.

Finding myself irked at least several times a day, I spend a substantial amount of time either feigning interest in things I don’t care about or finding socially acceptable ways to convey the words, “I hate you,” with a smile. Below is a little break down of the thoughts that seem to materialize in my brain versus what actually exits my mouth.

In response to being asked to walk an envelope across town rather than simply mail it like the rest of the free freaking world:

Actual words (whilst grinning like a circus clown): Sure! Let me just grab my jacket, I’ll be back….
Actual thoughts: Oh ab-sol-utely I will… I hope I don’t drop it in the sewer or light it on fire or eat it on the way over… oh and while we’re at it… nice. sweater.

In response to someone cutting in front of me on the sidewalk:

Actual words: Oh, excuse me.
Actual thoughts: Stick your leg out, stick your leg out, stick your leg out, do it, stick your leg out.

In response to seeing someone I went to high school with in a store:

Actual words: Oh hiii, how arrre you? How are things?
Actual thoughts: AHH! Please don’t see me. You look like you ate a small child. Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

Before I continue I’d like to be clear in that not everything annoys me.  There is a small group of people and animals that I actually find entertaining/cute such as Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, monkeys that smoke cigarettes, Lewis Black, the British worm in The Labyrinth (google him before asking me a stupid question), Anderson Cooper… and NOT cats.  Now that it is explicitly clear that I am not a complete horror and only a part time junior horror, I would like to next move onto my solution for this behavior.

I am finding that it is more and more difficult for me to hold in my actual thoughts on a daily basis. And for that matter, why should I have to? My proposed solution to this problem is to allow adults in our society to act like toddlers when and where we see fit. When I see a two year old pitching a fit on the sidewalk and throwing his ice cream cone to the ground while sobbing about rainbow sprinkles, do you know what emotion this evokes in me? JEALOUSY. Why on earth can’t I throw my ice cream around when I want sprinkles too? Why can’t I kick and scream and roll around in the dirt with my skirt over my head when I’m frustrated??

If we were to instill this behavior in the workplace, I am fairly certain things would run much more smoothly.  If I could just push all the papers on my desk onto the floor and stick my tongue out when I didn’t want to do something, I think it would be pretty clear how I felt about the situation. I wouldn’t have to paint on some physically painful fake grin to mask my true emotions. We could simply label one office as the ‘time out room’ where anyone could retreat following a work induced hissy fit.  Then twenty minutes later after what we will call ‘quiet time’ you could emerge refreshed and calm.  Later that day when another mind numbing task got under your skin, it would be perfectly acceptable to go stomp in circles around the conference table while shouting, ‘NOT GONNA DOOO IT!’ over and over before walking back into the time out room to perform breathing exercises for a bit.

Next time you see see a three year old tantrum in motion, don’t grimace at the behavior or try to alleviate the issue - sit back and take freaking notes. If you find yourself in a situation where you feel your temperature begin to rise, don’t hesitate to put these tactics into action. Go ahead and throw yourself to the ground, screech in a manner only small dogs can hear, pull hair if need be, flail your arms in an uncoordinated yet fluid motion, dare I even advise you to spit.  If nothing else you’ll feel better and when you’re carried out in hand cuffs at least you’ll know without a doubt that your boss is now aware you do not like it when she places suggestive readings on your desk…