I've real nice all my life, too nice for awhile there, could never say no until learned to say 'let me think about it'.These days am trying to communicate that my tolerance level has a breaking point. People thinking 'oh she's so nice, (or stupid) she won't mind (notice)'. I have a mild sort of burn going on, hardly noticible except once in awhile...others can see little sparks occasionally if they look at the right second. Learning to voice when not pleased with something has been difficult, not to say exhausting somedays. Especially when the opposition is one of your tests in life to continue growth.
How do you handle anger dilpomatically at work or such inopportune moments?

When I get angry, I scream and shout. I use the F word liberally. I throw small objects.

I do the same at work.

You may want to know that I have been unemployed and unemployable for 18 years in a row.

In relationships, I am the quietly cruel one. I don't scream, don't shout, but am prone to pouting and giving the "silent treatment". I make eventually everybody walk on eggshells around me, and I do that until they go crazy or leave me.

I have been banned from three retail malls and from two police stations in my city for causing a scene. I did not commit anything criminal, just screamed, or cursed or called people names. In my town they keep locks on the doors of jails to keep me out, and not at all to keep the inmates in. Everyone around here usually feels safer when there is a locked safty vault door betweent them and me. The mental asylium had their doors reinforced with steel for this reason. That building houses too many expensive doctors and psychiatrists to let me in just like that.

I often screamed at my students when I taught at university. I was a part-time lecturer for adult continuing school students, teaching them math and computer science. They were very happy with that, they loved it, they regarded it as a sign of love, affection and caring. Most if not all students were immigrants, and to them my screaming and shouting at them at the top of my lungs was a real treat. They were 1. used to much worse in their schools in the old country and 2. their limited language skills made them to mistakenly realize that I was dishing out compliments and awards when I was screaming at them. Many opened the doors of their homes to me and invited me for festive meals. Mostly they felt honoured by my company and were befuddled by how it was possible that I survived their lovingly prepared meals.

My family is used to it by now. If I start to scream and shout and throw chairs in the living room of my brother or at the Christmas dinner at my aunt's, they hold me down, gag me, tie me down to a chair and then light candles, and sing psalms. Sometimes I remember a priest or two that my family would call in. The old geesers would sprinkle me with holy water, hit me on the head with a giant crucifix as if my head was a baseball. The Holy Water steamed off me, in a green-orange steam; an the religious symbols would bend, break, melt, or burst into fire depending on their chemical composition. Then there was the Minion and the voodoo tribe of 200 dervishes from Outer Mongolia, but my mind easily overpowered their prayers and faith. The Catholic church is not a very challengign match for me either.

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In short, that's how I handle my anger in the diplomatic way, the anger which has been being channelled into me through some wormhole in the universe, into my soul, from the evil minds of a thousand tortured and angry souls of the deepest, darkest, most condemned corners of the Universe for thousands of years.

Next week I will tell you how I do it the undiplomatic way.

When I get angry, I scream and shout. I use the F word liberally. I throw small objects.

I do the same at work.

You may want to know that I have been unemployed and unemployable for 18 years in a row.

In relationships, I am the quietly cruel one. I don't scream, don't shout, but am prone to pouting and giving the "silent treatment". I make eventually everybody walk on eggshells around me, and I do that until they go crazy or leave me.

I have been banned from three retail malls and from two police stations in my city for causing a scene. I did not commit anything criminal, just screamed, or cursed or called people names. In my town they keep locks on the doors of jails to keep me out, and not at all to keep the inmates in. Everyone around here usually feels safer when there is a locked safty vault door betweent them and me. The mental asylium had their doors reinforced with steel for this reason. That building houses too many expensive doctors and psychiatrists to let me in just like that.

I often screamed at my students when I taught at university. I was a part-time lecturer for adult continuing school students, teaching them math and computer science. They were very happy with that, they loved it, they regarded it as a sign of love, affection and caring. Most if not all students were immigrants, and to them my screaming and shouting at them at the top of my lungs was a real treat. They were 1. used to much worse in their schools in the old country and 2. their limited language skills made them to mistakenly realize that I was dishing out compliments and awards when I was screaming at them. Many opened the doors of their homes to me and invited me for festive meals. Mostly they felt honoured by my company and were befuddled by how it was possible that I survived their lovingly prepared meals.

My family is used to it by now. If I start to scream and shout and throw chairs in the living room of my brother or at the Christmas dinner at my aunt's, they hold me down, gag me, tie me down to a chair and then light candles, and sing psalms. Sometimes I remember a priest or two that my family would call in. The old geesers would sprinkle me with holy water, hit me on the head with a giant crucifix as if my head was a baseball. The Holy Water steamed off me, in a green-orange steam; an the religious symbols would bend, break, melt, or burst into fire depending on their chemical composition. Then there was the Minion and the voodoo tribe of 200 dervishes from Outer Mongolia, but my mind easily overpowered their prayers and faith. The Catholic church is not a very challengign match for me either.

--------

In short, that's how I handle my anger in the diplomatic way, the anger which has been being channelled into me through some wormhole in the universe, into my soul, from the evil minds of a thousand tortured and angry souls of the deepest, darkest, most condemned corners of the Universe for thousands of years.

Next week I will tell you how I do it the undiplomatic way.

I've been nice all my life, too nice for awhile there, could never say no until learned to say 'let me think about it'.These days am trying to communicate that my tolerance level has a breaking point. People thinking 'oh she's so nice, (or stupid) she won't mind (notice)'. I have a mild sort of burn going on, hardly noticible except once in awhile...others can see little sparks occasionally if they look at the right second. Learning to voice when not pleased with something has been difficult, not to say exhausting somedays. Especially when the opposition is one of your tests in life to continue growth.
How do you handle anger dilpomatically at work or such inopportune moments?

Well, if the problem people are your bosses, that makes things tricky. Does your business have as a goal, to make money? Most bosses respond best to criticisms when they are explained as a matter of profit margin. IF you tell them they are upsetting you with comments of some sort, they'll shrug in confusion. If you tell them their commentary is serving to reduce your productivity and that of others by discouraging teamwork, they MIGHT perk up and listen.
As for simply expressing anger, there is a businesslike way to do that, it is as someone else said, to DESCRIBE that you are angry, and explain why, without resorting to actual yelling or other such habits of venting.