Have you ever seen someone get annoyed about something and wonder what the hell their problem is?
I’ve always found it fascinating how different we all are, and how a similar set of circumstances can throw one person into a fit of rage and yet another person will be totally unaffected by it.
Because our emotions feel so linked to events and conversations, it’s sometimes hard to comprehend that it isn’t the situation that’s making us cross/fearful/upset/happy/excited, but rather the meaning we attach to it.
Greek philosopher Epictetus put it more eloquently, “Men are disturbed not by things, but by the view which they take of them.”
My first memory of feeling completely baffled by someone’s emotional reaction to a situation was in my first job when I was 19.
I was overjoyed at landing the job, even though it wasn’t exactly a high-flying position.
I was a single mum at the time, living with my parents with my two boys who were aged 3 and 4 in a very small village in Dorset.
Needless to say, employment opportunities for a young girl with kids were hard to find, but by a stroke of luck, my mum was working as a cook in one of the village country houses, and when she heard the cleaner was leaving she asked if I could interview for the job.
That position just happened to come with its own 3-bedroom cottage as part of the contract.
As you can imagine, I squealed with joy at the thought of having my very own place with my boys.
The day I got my own front door key was one of the happiest days of my life.
Not long after I started, I heard my boss having an absolute meltdown about the possibility of him needing to let himself into his house with a key.
“I should never be expected to hold a key for my own bloody house!” he bellowed.
Huh?
That sentence didn’t even make sense to me.
My little 19 year old brain couldn’t process what he was saying. Why would anyone be cross about having a key to their own house?
It took the groundsman to explain to me that when the boss came home to the country after a long week in his other home in London, he expected to have the doors open, lights on, fires roaring, food cooking, champagne chilling…
That’s just what he was used to. He didn’t just let himself in and grab a beer from the fridge like everyone else did!
What gave me such joy - having my very own key for my very own door, was a completely abominable thought for him, but I understood what his beef was when it was explained to me.
In fact, I now demand that my partner, Kevin, goes into the house before me, lights the fire and plumps cushions etc before I sit on the sofa, naturally.
A girl has standards!