So I get to work early, thinking I’d be a good little newbie. I turn off the alarm and turn on the lights. Upon her arrival she immediately starts in. “In this office we do NOT use the florescent lights!” Such fury. Such angst. I turn off the left switch and turn on the right. Problem solved. “And don’t sit in that chair. That’s MY chair. Don’t ever sit there.” I move.
It must be exhausting to be her. Everything is a crisis. She’s the queen of overreaction.
I think about a trick that someone taught me long ago. It’s called the body check scale. When you come across a situation that requires you to react ask yourself what its equivalent would be on this scale.
- 100% Death
- 90% Terminal illness/paralysis
- 80% Broken Bone
- 70% Flu
- 60% Sprained ankle
- 50% Cold
- 40% Stitches
- 30% Rash
- 20% Scraped knee
- 10% Bruise or bug bite
- 5% Stubbed toe
To me, someone turning on the wrong light would be the equivalent of a stubbed toe at the very most, so my anger would go to 5 percent, or mild irritation for the purposes of this exercise. (In truth it would bother me not at all.)
For her, on the other hand, it’s the equivalent of death. I have no idea why. Post traumatic stress, perhaps. None of my business, really. I’m just glad I don’t overreact like that.
[Image credit: roflitup.com]
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