We Asked For Stories About Working With Angry People. Here’s What You Said.

“A moment of kindness in an angry world is like a sip of water to someone in an endless desert.”

When we published our story about workers who have to deal with angry people all day, we also asked you to share your experiences. We heard from lots of readers—so here’s a slice of some of the responses we got. A huge thank you to everyone who took the time and energy to share.

Kim, Customer Service

Almost every caller was angry. They were angry that they couldn’t remember their password, they were angry that their credit card was denied, they were angry that they forgot to cancel the service and had been paying for something they hadn’t used for six months. I left my job in a simmering rage every day, because all that anger had to be processed through me. Sometimes I kicked walls, sometimes I rage cried in my car before driving home, sometimes I wrote angry stories with angry characters who did terrible things to everyone around them just because they could. I dealt with it as constructively as I could, but I only lived with it for a year. If it had been a long-lasting career I don’t think I’d be able to recognize myself by the end. Everyone has their breaking point, and some of us are closer to it than we even know.

[I wish people knew] that their anger didn’t just vanish when the call ended, and that a moment of kindness in an angry world is like a sip of water to someone in an endless desert. What you do matters and impacts more than you know.

Katie, Acute Care

When working in the world of residential care, especially with sexually aggressive and violent youth (most of which are trauma survivors themselves), it is very typical to have someone direct their anger towards you all day, maybe all week — maybe the entire duration of their time there.

But, as you are there to care for their physical needs, as well as help them with coping and regulation skills, there is a difficult balance that we had to keep. Having youth spit on me, charge me, verbally abuse me, throw furniture or personal items at me — this was part of the daily job. Yes, daily.

What ultimately motivated me to leave was a single, one-week period. On a Tuesday, I had a client charge me in front of a flight of stairs with the intent of pushing me down them. Thursday, I had a client take the brass door knob off of their dresser and throw it at my head — it hit me at the base of my skull behind my ear. Then on the next Monday, I had a client, corner me alone and punch me repeatedly in the face until another staff member found us and restrained her.

Every person I’ve worked with in this field has their own set of stories with clients like this — stories that range from the comical to the dark and violent, dangerous memories of someone’s anger, fear and trauma response spiraling out of control.

Many of us don’t cope with it very well either. When I realized that my co-workers and I would go out for a drink (read: many drinks) after every bad shift, and how that would be almost every night that we’d have a bad shift, I knew I was headed in the wrong direction. I was able to start going to therapy — twice a week to begin with — and work through the secondary trauma. It was typical, though, for many people to go the other direction and self-medicate with drugs, alcohol, and dangerous/impulsive behavior. Turnover is very high in this field — a typical staff member in a residential home lasts less than a year.

I like to think I’m one of the fortunate ones, who have been able to come out of that experience able to remember and process my time there and not think of it as wholly bad. I’ve also since had other undesirable jobs — at call centers, in retail — dealing with angry people, and I’m positive that my time in residential equipped me to better deal with them and handle their anger. I have actually returned to that same group home on an as-needed basis more than once since initially leaving — proving to myself in some way that I could not be conquered by whatever negative things may have happened to me there.

What I wish more people understood about that kind of work — and about any kind of work where people are emotionally or physically berated — is that it is OK and very beneficial to talk about your experiences. If you have someone in your life who has a job like this, it may feel like they complain all the time, and it may even hurt you to hear about the things they recount. However getting it out into the open air and telling someone what they’ve experienced is such an important part of getting past it and moving forward, and if you’re the one listening to it, that means they are trusting you with something that’s hard for them to deal with — so be trustworthy with it and be a supportive ear.

And now some highlights from the comments:

From zneromp:

I get yelled at fairly often in my job: I referee kids’ hockey. I get yelled at by coaches, parents, and sometimes the kids themselves. And not just yelled at; sometimes it’s face-burning, vein-popping, top-of-your-lungs screaming fury. Does it bother me? Not really. Sometimes, sure, but mostly it just comes with the job.

We both know this is not unique to hockey. Every kids’ sport has its share of over-the-top participants (by which I mean to include the parents and coaches along with the players.) It’s interesting to ponder the social dynamics that make this widely-accepted behavior. It’s a rare environment in our society. Controlled physical violence is expected, nay demanded, of the participants (even the young ones). Adrenaline is pumping, nerves are jumping, emotions run high, and not just for the players. Mommy and Daddy’s little darling just got whacked with a stick, crushed into the boards, or undressed by an opponent’s slick move. All that emotion has got to go somewhere, and inevitably some of it lands on the referee.

Let’s be honest. I love it. The game. The violence. The emotion. I loved it as a player, I loved it as a coach, I love it as a referee. To be honest, I have a more mixed reaction as a parent, but I wouldn’t want to deprive my kids of the opportunity to experience it, learn from it, and decide for themselves.

So I get yelled at. Screamed at. Berated, insulted, ridiculed. Publicly. I don’t enjoy the abuse, but I understand it, and all in all, its worth it.

(Aside: what very few parents understand about refereeing is that in my job I have three priorities. I try to make sure the game is safe, fair, and fun. In that order. Without forgetting to include the fun.)

And from Teresa:

I’ll admit I’ve been an asshole on the phone more than once. Between the long waits, the agents who don’t seem to know how in the world to resolve the problem or difficulty understanding accents, I’ve exploded and usually regretted it. I know I need to get a grip and after reading this article, will sincerely try to manage my anger and frustration better. I rarely express more than tight-lipped impatience in person but somehow on the phone, my dark side takes over. Thanks for the reminder.

Read the original post and responses here. And if you haven’t already, take some time to explore Issue 1 or sign up for our weekly newsletter with exclusive stories and recommendations.