I don't know much about adrenaline or how it works, but it's amazing how it can completely alter who you are as a person. Whether you're screaming on a roller coaster or shrieking because of a rodent, adrenaline has the ability to make you look different to even the closest of your friends and/or family members. Tonight, I lost control of my temper toward a fellow employee, but instead of dwelling on the reasons behind my collapse, I focused on the effects my rage was having on my physical being.
For the most part, it's a gradual escalation toward the eventual meltdown. It starts with the incident; or in a lot of cases, the combination of multiple incidents. I think it might have been the latter in my situation tonight, but once the ball starts rolling toward destruction, you start thinking obscenities and aim your angry thoughts in the direction of anyone that crosses your path.
As your temperament begins its new direction, you start losing control of the things that are normally second nature. A child that, on any other day, you're able to avoid colliding into, for example, slips past your peripheral and crashes into your tray of drinks. You begin to notice the obnoxious requests your tables have been asking of you all night. Each new variable wedges itself into your mind and interlocks with the others until your head is brewing a dark and ugly energy.
Once the final straw of the evening is drawn, you can't help but to let the expletives fly. You stutter and stammer your way through basic sentences because you don't even have the control needed to speak clearly and effortlessly. I wanted to be reasonable with this outside force of destruction. I wanted to speak to him in a clear and communicative voice, but I couldn't. I didn't want the situation to escalate any further so I just kept telling him to go away and to leave me alone.
As we started yelling back and forth at each other with no more than two feet separating us, I could feel the eyes of the other employees burning into me. I could feel their taunts and their hopes that our argument would soon involve fists. I knew that no one else in the general vicinity was getting anything accomplished because they were too engrossed with our trivial arguing. When my counterpart finally took the hint and walked away, I had to lower my eyes in embarrassment to the ground because I was left standing amongst the crowd of onlookers.
The funny thing about an argument like that is that it isn't over when the yelling ends. I could feel my heart pounding against the backside of my ribs. If it weren't for my long, black pants, everyone would be able to see how badly my legs were shaking. Usually you think of a person with these reactions to be someone that feels threatened or scared. I felt neither of these things, yet there I was shaking and stuttering to anyone that asked me about it. My only concern at the time was that a manager wouldn't get involved and take my employment away from me.
Two managers did get involved, but the topic of termination never arose. It was only a matter of explaining my side of the story and apologizing for losing my temper. Just because the argument had ended, however, did not necessarily change the way my body responded to the situation. While telling my version, my mouth dried up and the inability to form coherent thoughts and words had again escaped me.
It's not too often that I lose my cool. I usually get along well with everyone and if I don't, then I try to avoid them. I don't like confrontation or conflict and if I know that a certain individual's personality can cause that with mine, I try to stay away. Working closely with these individuals as often as I do, however, will inevitably cause some moments of shame. It's interesting to note the surroundings of any given scene when these moments arise. It, too, will be interesting to wonder if the next group of people I witness arguing will experience the same out of body observances.
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