obviously the other person’s fault, and I felt certain the damage on the vehicles would bear that out even if she didn’t admit fault. As it happened, after lunch, almost as soon as I got home, there was a knock at my door. A police officer had come to investigate the accident. I showed the officer my car and he said it looked exactly like what he was told. As it turned out, the other driver admitted fault and the rest of the matter was easily resolved. I drove a rental car for a few days while my car was repaired. Things could have happened differently, but I am inclined to believe that the woman acted the way she did because I acted in a civil manner. Had I acted out of anger, it could only have made things worse, because this situation went about as well as an accident can go.
I’m not saying everything in life goes better without anger, or that I can avoid or dismiss anger easily. When this accident happened, I had been practicing dismissing my anger when I felt it would make things worse for some time. On this occasion, I happened to get it right and things went smooth as silk. Life isn’t always this simple, but I have experienced enough anger-provoking situations now to realize that remaining calm is the way to go. I can save face by not acting like a crazed person. When I remain calm and keep my wits about me, I can analyze the situation more clearly, be more honest with myself, and generally get better results all around.
I Get Maddest When I Am Wrong
I hate to admit when I am wrong. I think everybody hates to admit when he or she is wrong. I might be wrong now. Because I hate to admit when I am wrong, I tend to get my defenses up when I find myself in a situation where I know I am at fault. This usually causes me to get angry—angrier than I would be if I knew I was right. Here are two examples, one when I knew I was right and the other when I knew I was wrong. The outcomes were very different.
A good friend once confronted me about how I had handled a situation with the volunteer helpline I was managing. The friend confronted me about a woman who had neglected to show up for a shift. The woman was young and attractive and my friend knew I favored her. She was far too young for me to date, but I liked her just the same. My friend accused me of giving her preferential treatment because of my feelings for her. I disagreed. An argument ensued, albeit one that started out calmly enough. My friend stuck to his guns and I stuck to mine. To prove my point, I suggested that he look at how smoothly things had run during my tenure as manager of the helpline. I calmly explained that when the young woman did not show up, the person on the previous shift called me looking for help. I got in my car, drove in, and took the shift.
My friend claimed that I wouldn’t have done that for another person. I pointed out that I did it whenever that sort of thing happened. My friend got mad and refused to believe me. He claimed again and again that I went out of my way to keep the young woman from looking bad. I informed him that since it was a volunteer helpline, there was no one to look bad to besides me, since I was the chairperson. I wasn’t bothered by those who did not show up. The helpline was relatively new and people were still not used to the idea that they needed to make sure they covered their shift no matter what else might be happening in their lives. I did my best to make sure every shift operator handled things properly, and when someone didn’t show up for his or her shift, I would go in to cover the shift, then have a talk with the person who had failed to work their shift in order to avoid it happening again.
When one of the volunteers did not report for a shift, the volunteer on the previous shift called me looking for relief, and I always followed up with the person who’d missed his or her shift. My game plan was the same for this young woman as it was for the other volunteers. No matter how much I either liked or disliked someone, I had to treat everyone the same. I told this to my friend. He refused to believe me, and his anger grew. Soon he was yelling at me. I sat back in my chair and let him rant. My only response was to remain calm and to reiterate the facts, as I understood them. I did my best to assure him that I would handle the situation as I always did. Finally my friend got up, told me I was hard-headed, and went into the other room.
I felt my own anger rise up, but knowing it would make things worse, I dismissed it and said, as calmly as I could, “I know you are mad. When you calm down maybe we can continue this conversation.” This was relatively early in my days of anger management, and I was amazed at the fact that I actually did a decent job of dealing with my anger.
After a few moments, my friend came back and sat down. “You’re serious,” he said. “You really expect me to believe that you handled this situation just as you would with anyone else.”
I assured him that I did, and I would continue to handle these situations in the same manner regardless of who was involved. We continued talking and resolved our differences. Our friendship was undamaged. I continued to handle those situations without prejudice until the day I left that position. Today my friend and I laugh about that conflict. We both learned from it. Moreover, when he said he hated being wrong, it reminded me and educated me about how mad I get when I am wrong.
Looking back on that incident, I realized that every time I have been wrong, I have tended to get angrier than when I was right. The car accident was one situation where I did nothing wrong and I found it easy to dismiss any anger. However, when my mind quickly settles on a situation where I am wrong and I know I am wrong, my anger takes over—seemingly without my permission.
My former girlfriend had set up a dinner date with a couple that she knew. She told me about the dinner date and I agreed to go. When the day came for the date, I had other plans. Forgetting about the date, I had agreed to go out with friends of my own—an obvious mistake on my part. Being wrong, and knowing I was wrong, I got angry. After all, I was going to lose a chance to go out with my friends, and I would look bad in the eyes of my friends who would think that my girlfriend ran the show. I felt I had to defend my position.
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