Instead of answering, Brandon launches into a sarcastic mono-
logue about his dealings with one S.O.B. after another, starting
with a ritual recounting of his father’s offenses and ending with
the idiots on the road who made him late to my office.
I shake my head. “I can see why you’d be upset,” I say.
“Sounds like your life can be summed up by an old saying: ‘If you
[expletive deleted] with a truck, you’re bound to get run over.’”
“You bet! I’ve got the tread marks to prove it.”
“So, when are you going to stop [expletive deleted]-ing
with trucks?”This little aphorism started a discussion of how Brandon, believing
himself the perpetual victim, is always doing a little something to even
the score. As a kid, he broke rules as a way of fighting back against his
father, and he’s been fighting back against everybody else ever since, usually
getting the worst of it. Subtly, I suggested that in some cases he might be
a victim of his own actions. I also said it was weird that he felt like the road
kill, but people keep treating him like the truck.
Conflicts are always symmetrical. Angry people usually see them-
selves as being attacked rather than attacking. The therapist’s job is to show
them that the difference between road kill and truck is merely semantic.
Jenna knits her brow. “If people have a problem with me, I tell
them to talk to me about it instead of going over my head or
behind my back.”
“Why on earth would they do that?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she says.
“Let’s say I’m a guy at your office and I come in and tell
you to stop picking on me. What do you do?”
“I don’t pick on people. I do demand high standards.”
“I think I see the problem,” I say. “Rule one of human
behavior is you have to reward people for doing what you want or
they don’t do it. When somebody comes to your office to com-
plain, do you reward him? Like by saying thank you and offering
to do better?”
“Not always.” Jenna says.
“Can you think of a time you did?”246 ❧Explosions into Anger