I wouldn’t piss on you to put out a fire.

Or, on being angry.

On my way into work today, I got angry. Uncontrollably, road-rage angry. I was thinking about something at work — I can’t even remember what it was — and the hypothetical situation in my head spiraled out of control and just overwhelmed everything else in my head.

It passed quickly; I’ve learned that, when I’m spiraling out like that, the best thing to do is simply remind myself that none of it is real, and then I return to equilibrium quickly. But, once it’s happened once in a day, it happens over… and over… and over.

The most recent time today was when I was talking to one of my colleagues about a project she’s working on and where I can offer some expertise — I’d done the same type of project about twenty times in the last ten years, and have a pretty good idea of what to do to make it work. It’s not her call whether to take my help — her boss has instituted a command-and-control structure for this project (a structure that’s anathema to me) — and so she said that she’d ask him about me helping out.

I smiled, she left my office, but underneath, I was all rage. I wanted to go into his office and start screaming about how he was being an idiot by not involving me. I simply couldn’t believe that I wasn’t more involved. And, yes, I understand that this reaction is trying to assert control over a command-and-control structure and is no better than what it would replace.

It reminded me of a favorite line from Tapping the Source, Kem Numm’s novel about surfing, where a haggard old surfer is described as someone who would give you his last dime if he liked you and, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t piss on you to put out a fire.

That’s what the anger feels like — I wouldn’t do anything for the object of my disaffection in those moments of rage. I’d watch them burn.

After the anger passed, I spent time wondering about why I was angry, taking a really circuitous walk to the lunch place downstairs. I picked it apart a bit, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out that I was angry because I felt that parts of my life that I thought I should be in control of were entirely outside of my control.

I understand how this conflicts with me saying that I hate command and control structures. I should be better at going with the flow, and, in general, I am. But I clearly wasn’t in this instance, and I’m not in most instances where I get stupidly angry.

In and of itself, this wasn’t much of a revelation. I’ve had issues with authority figures for as long as there have been authority figures in my life. It’s one of those things that has hampered me throughout my career, and it’s probably the biggest thing that I watch out for when I’m dealing with other people. I’ve gotten much better, over time, at dealing with it, although much of that improvement is due to me becoming an authority figure in the various companies I’ve been part of. I think that, if I was thrown right back down to the bottom of the ladder, a lot of those issues would likely resurface.

The thing that surprised me was my next reaction: it wasn’t, “What are you going to do about it?” That’s been my standard reaction — let’s fix it. It makes me angry, so it must be bad.

It was, “Does it matter that you’re angry?”

No, it didn’t.

Me being angry at both the hypothetical situation in my head as well as the very real one in my office didn’t matter. Being angry doesn’t matter unless it causes you to do something.

The thing that surprised me was that I didn’t look for a fix. I didn’t immediately turn around and say, “Fuck this shit. I’m outta here” (which I’ve done before) or “Fuck y’all, I’m going to do this” (which I’ve done before) or “Fuck this shit. I don’t care” (which I’ve done before).

The ‘fix’ has long been such an endemic portion of my worldview and personality that it was noticeable in its absence. Instead, there was an empty space where the fix used to be. Anger wasn’t propelling me to take action.

A different version of me would be so, so pissed off by that last sentence. Working hard on something because I’m angry about it has been one of the things that keeps me going. To quote The Hulk, “I’m always angry.”

Maybe that void left by not trying to fix the thing that’s making me angry — which is often just fixing my own point of view — will be filled by something more useful or, at least, thoughtful. But I doubt it.

I think that it’s more likely that the fix will be replaced by nothing… and that’s ok with me. Decades of work fueled by anger have resulted in lots and lots of missteps.

Maybe, just maybe, not trying to fix the problem is the first step to not getting angry about the problem, and maybe not getting angry is the right way to actually solve things.

After all, The Hulk doesn’t do a great job thinking when he’s green with rage. Maybe I don’t, either.