Tard Rage - Part 1

Bluntly, lots of things piss me off.

At least 90% of these things are caused by specific individuals (the remaining 10% split between frustrating tasks, my Xbox and the everyday plight of our deteriorating society¹). Of these individuals, I would estimate that at least 75% know of my dissatisfaction with their actions shortly afterwards².

I suppose that the obvious question is “why is 68% of my rage is outwardly and shamelessly invected at specific people?”. I believe, however, that through one particular timeless cinematic moment, a Jack Nicholson quote is worth 1,000 words:

“There are two kinds of angry people in this world: explosive and implosive. Explosive, which is the most common, is the type of individual you see screaming at a grocery store cashier for not taking his coupon. Implosive, the least common, is the cashier at the store who remains quiet at his job day after day until he then finally loses it and just shoots everyone in the store”

Granted, this profound insight was actually delivered to Adam Sandler (or was it Ben Stiller? I’m pretty sure they’re actually the same person) and thus the film itself was, undeniably, terrible but you understand the underlying message and this “better out than in” philosophy was something I strongly advocated throughout my formative years.

However, in evolving from an angry, opinionated teen to the fine, mature, highly successful and wise future leader that you no doubt see when you look at me today, I have learnt that the 75% expression of rage I mentioned previously – or rather the antithesis-ish 25% associated with it – is far more important than I had assumed.

It is at this stage where I would like to give a subtle, yet anonymous, nod to a special friend of mine. This fine specimen has really helped me through some tough times and taught me that the emotional capital, morale and camaraderie that can be built from respecting the 25% is the key to success, and in all serious, happiness.

Actually. Screw anonymity. However, before I shamelessly shed this friend’s disguise, it is worth providing some context around how our paths became so inextricably linked.

In my previously life I was responsible for managing a team of fresh-faced, enthusiastic strategists as we provided advice to a firm of super-sharp, super-demanding private equity investors looking to acquire a well known retailer. Deadlines were tight, stakes were high and client demands (as ever) were completely unreasonable. 6 weeks into the process and morale was waning and temperatures waxing, all exacerbated (man, I really love that word) by the Orwellian monitoring, variable temperament and additional unreasonable demands of our Senior Manager. This person’s processes of logical thought and project management mantra was (whilst generally effective) completely different to anything I had experienced before, or have since³.

My frustrations were mirrored and amplified by the rest of my team and despite dogged attempts to cheer up and motivate the team, it was clear that this was one instance where repression, grinning and bearing would have to win over kicking, screaming and raging.

It was then that I met him.

Like a Wayne Rooney hair transplant, he is almost unrecognisable now from when we first met. Sat unused aside an empty box of Wasabi’s finest sushi was Ragey – expressionless, armless, yet an instant and talismanic symbol of how we the people could prevail against adversity.

Meet Ragey - the Rage Spoon

After a facelift and appendage transplant, Ragey became an icon. The premise was a simple one - only one team member could possess Ragey (the “rage spoon”) and only this person could express anger, frustration or outright rage in the workplace. A formal, verbal request to receive the services of “Ragey” was required for a transfer of guardianship.

I half expected the repressed anger to build up and eventually overflow, but this explosion never materialised. Ragey’s happy-go-luck expression and the privileged knowledge of his existence and symbolism (initially only afforded to the project team) meant all the bottled up tension simply effervesced into nothingness. Unreasonable expectations were met and the pain of the process was (partially) forgotten shortly afterwards.

On the day I left that job, I tearfully bestowed Ragey’s keeping unto a good friend. I am glad to hear that the legacy of the 25% lives on, it certainly does with me.

I realise that I have now written quite a lot regarding the 25%. I had planned to include an example of my recent interactions with the 75%, heralding from my recent experience of the perfect storm of Tardship that resulted in the collapse of my house move. However, the lethargy has set in. So I just added “part 1” to the title instead.

¹ Approximately 66.66% of these reasons are not blatant lies

² Or appearance, odour, presence etc.

³ As an example, when I suggested during our post project review that we hadn’t got the 80:20 balance (i.e. 80% of the result with 20% of the effort) quite right on the project I was informed that the SM “didn’t care if the last 20% takes 5 times as long as the first 80%, we must get 100% of the way there”. Incidentally, this moment was somewhat of a turning point in where I saw my career going. Just to be clear - this person is great fun socially and someone I would consider one of my closer friends and the previous job, we just clashed when it came to working together!