Rage against the machine
I’m a Red Challenger. It’s awesome. I have loads of energy, I am passionate, supportive and once I’m in, I’m all in. I am definitely an all or nothing kinda gal and once I am on your side I am extremely loyal – your go to person when things get tough.
And I’m a control freak. Not the obvious kind. You know them, the ones who have to reload the dishwasher because you are clearly incapable of doing it properly yourself. I’m the kind who gets impatient and frustrated when things that are out of my control get in the way of me doing what I want to do. It’s a small list, but only because if I put the full one here you would think I was joking.
My husband being late leaving the house when we are going out. It doesn’t matter whether we are going to the theatre or the supermarket – I still dig a trench in the living room floor by pacing up and down like a caged tiger, snarling and roaring as we get later and later.
My two dogs wanting to go out for a sniff round the garden every ten minutes, when I am trying to work from home. (They pretend they want a wee but they don’t!) Machines not doing what they are supposed to do. I suspect that my laptop has been hacked by a dastardly villain, intent on destroying my already tenuous sanity – and don’t get me started on the vacuum that dumps dust on the floor instead of sucking it up!
Self-checkout that refuses to check me out and needs two more shop assistants than the regular till. Another plan by the dastardly villain to turn me into a quivering, screeching lunatic.
Starting to prepare dinner only to find that someone ate the one ingredient that I cannot possibly manage without because they “didn’t know it was for anything”.
People turning my music off at parties and putting their own rubbish on. Especially if I’m in the middle of singing along!
Anybody doing anything and not telling me about it first. I mean, is it so unreasonable to ask that you run your plans past me before booking your holiday, that you are going on, and that you are paying for?
All of these, and more can leave me acting like a two-year-old in full blown tantrum mode. Or a four-year-old in a strop. Or a 63-year-old in a sulk. None of them very attractive and none of them very effective.
But my favourite go to response is with computers and machines. I yell at them. Very loudly. And ironically, this means I have lost all control.
As I said… I’m a Red Challenger, (i.e. my personality type).