Seething with Anger Again


anger-1 You’d think a little thing like a parking permit wouldn’t get me so upset.  I need a permit to park at work.   Space is at a premium, so I can understand it; it even encourages people to ride the bus or carpool, which makes sense.  I don’t like having to pay, but I pay my fees and keep my permit current. I ride a motorcycle. Very fuel efficient, pollutes little, takes up very little space.  I replaced my wind shield last evening.  The permit was attached; it cannot be removed and transferred. It shreds if one tries to do so.  Previously, Parking Services had told me that if I brought the old permit in, I could get a replacement free.  So, I cut that entire section out of the windshield and took that in to parking services to get a replacement.  I gave it to this guy Charlie, who was the only person working.  I told him I replaced the windshield, so I wanted to exchange the permit.  He told me he couldn’t do that.  He asked me if I had gotten a new motorcycle, and I told him no.  I patiently explained the situation again, and he kept saying he didn’t understand, no matter how many times I tried to explain it.  Every time he asked if I’d gotten a new motorcycle, I said, no, I had just gotten a new windshield, pointed to the old one, and said I couldn’t use that one, since it couldn’t be detached.  He would just shake his head. I could not believe such density.   However, it didn’t bother me.  I’m taking bupropion to try and deal with my depression.   I’ve been calmer lately.  Finally he wants to know if I want a new permit, so I happily say yes, not even mentioning that was what I’d already said many times.  So he fills out the the paperwork, removes the old permit number from my computer file, and adds the new one.  Makes me sign for a new permit, filling out all the information again, and pay a $10 fee for replacing it.  He wouldn’t exchange the permit; he didn’t even seem to understand the concept.  But, I figured that they might have changed their policy, and $10 isn’t so much.  So far so good.   Then he tells me there are no permits to give me!  He says they ran out; demand exceeded what they had, and no new permits were going to be ordered since the permit year ends in August.  Then they’ll have plenty of new permits to give out.  So, I asked him how the parking officer would know I have a permit, if I didn’t have one to display.  He tells me that the officer can just enter my license into  his scanner, and he’ll be able to tell I have a permit from that.   I was dumbfounded.   I asked him why I needed a new permit at all, if they could just scan my plate?  He just looks at me.  Tells me he doesn’t understand.  By the third time I had to try and explain to him what I was asking him, and he still didn’t get it, I was getting angry.  My voice rose up, and I could hear the anger in my voice.   I asked him for the money back.  Another teller had come in, so I explained it to her too. She got it, after a couple tries.  But, she tells me the supervisor is the only one who can authorize a refund, and the supervisor is off today.  In fact she won’t be back until Tuesday because of the Memorial Day holiday.  She says she’ll give me her card so I can call her or email her, walks to a desk behind her, and then walks away to help another customer.  She even stops and walks back to the desk again, but still no card or number.  Finally Charlie asks her if she has a card.  She says maybe.  He goes and looks for one and gives it to me.

By this time I was so mad I could hardly speak.  I left, throwing the door open as hard as I could, but it didn’t go all the way, and another customer was leaving behind me, so it couldn’t slam shut either.   I wanted to break something.   I wanted to throw everything in the office at this idiot.  I climbed on the bike and sped away, livid with anger.  Raced in to work, because even though I’d gone in early, now I was already 15 minutes late.

So, no improvement in my mood there.   I’ve been through anger management counseling before, and I knew better than to throw things, or yell at the idiot.  I did my best to calm down, and patiently explained the situation to the other teller, but my adrenalin was pumping!  I felt like telling Charlie what an idiot he was, berating him, and questioning his ability to hold a  job, but I said nothing, beyond asking for a refund.  As soon as I had the supervisor’s card, I left, without saying another word.

But the anger I felt!  Unbelievable.  Disproportionate.  I’d have liked to destroy the parking services building right then. anger-2

What possible benefit am I getting from the bupropion or counseling if I can’ t control my anger?  If something like this almost turns me into a raging maniac?  Maybe what I really need to be taking is an SSRI (serotonin-specific reuptake inhibitor) like Prozac, Paxil or Zoloft?  I hate the thought of having to deal with those.  People report a lack of feeling, no emotions, and a sense of disconnectedness.  Hell, I already felt disconnected; that’s why I went for the treatment in the first place.

Of course now, with no way to control my anger, I could end up in jail. I’d rather not do that, even though I’m not real concerned about where I go or what I do right now.

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