The PFTT
(Public-Facing Temper Tantrum)
by Dan Gorski
I’m traveling more for work. From 3 trips a year to 17,422 in the last 3 months. The side-effects include waves of exhaustion, poor eating habits, and the tendency to exaggerate numbers like 5 into 17,422.
I’m learning quickly that if you don’t check yourself along the way, you will most certainly wreck yourself, building into the perfect storm for a public-facing temper tantrum, or PFTT for short.
But Did You Even Check Yourself?
One recent trip, I put myself on the standby list, just before a surprise last-minute invitation to one more customer visit. So, my standby went on standby.
No problem. I was happy to schedule one more sales pitch to show off our new large display, officially and cleverly named the Large HD IP Display, designed to notify people in schools how to stay safe during a crisis. The device required a large case, so they had the brilliant plan to stick this school safety device into a very sturdy, and quite unwieldy rifle case.
BTW - when you carry a cumbersome rifle case into an airport, you will inevitably have to reassure multiple travellers, clergy, and government agents not to worry – it’s a safety device, not a gun. No problem, as long as I avoid the people who seem eager to exchange shooting range stories at the airport.
So, I headed to my surprise last-minute meeting, one eye on the tiny clock on my wrist watch, still optimistic I could make the standby, and the other on my very large display, which happens to show a very large clock. Up to this point, I had struggled with the configuration in every meeting, rebooting and rebooting and rebooting, until I realized I had not properly connected the network cable to my laptop.
You would think the first 3 times that I discovered this dumb mistake might encourage me to not make the same mistake in meeting number 4, but you would be wrong. In my defense, I distracted myself by watching two clocks.
Despite the challenges, they loved the larger clock, and I made the first sale of the device for our company on the spot. A win!
As I headed to the airport, I assessed my logistics situation. I did not have the time to make the standby. No problem.
Oh, look. The bus dropped me on the wrong side of the terminal. No problem.
I dragged my 50-pound school display inside a gun case around the screaming children and the coughing adults. No problem.
I checked into the kiosk, but the computer could only spin. Really? How many computers could I break on this trip? Apparently, I was about to face another defeat at the hands of technology. After thirty seconds of processing, which made me realize time is just a flat circle, the kiosk concluded that I was “too late the check bags” because of the standby flight.
Problem. Big problem.
I was so focused on getting from the two clocks to the car to the bus to the terminal to the kiosk, that I didn’t realize the day had gotten to me already, and I was, in fact, gearing up to wreck myself.
Go Ahead and Wreck Yourself
I find it difficult to process disappointment. Like many, I learned to ignore or suppress emotions like helplessness, frustration, and sadness. No one wants to hear it. So, what should I do with those feelings? It turns out you can pack all of these complexities into one catch-all emotion known as anger.
Anger good. Anger make Hulk smash.
What do you do with all that anger? A classic public-facing temper-tantrum (PFTT!).
We have all seen the PFTT in action, and many of us have participated in a PFTT, either as a witness, as the trigger, or even as the grand PFTTer at the center of attention.
On some level, when you launch into a PFTT, you know that throwing a temper tantrum will not work to get you what you need. But, that’s not the point. By the time the PFTT has launched, you have given up on solving the problem.
As I stumbled and struggled with the rifle case, the frustration of my foibles began to seep out of my pours. My face turned red. I couldn’t even remember when the audible mumbling began. Elderly vacationers backed away and mothers swept their children up from the growing cross-country avalanche of my travel gear and raw humanity just behind the surface.
When the computer told me I was “too late,” my brain short-circuited. I targeted a nearby airline agent who would soon receive my righteous rage.
I charged across the floor, shoving my 50-pound behemoth in front of me, ready to ram that agent as a form of greeting. However, through a brilliant twist of fate, the rifle case apparently had also grown tired of the journey — and stood its ground.
In one magnificent acrobatic motion, I stumbled forward, tripped over the safety device, flew through the air, and landed – SPLAT – barely missing the cutest, most innocent, toy puppy.
The still non-flattened pup stared at me, somehow unfazed, while all the adults scattered to avoid the shrapnel of my self-made wreckage. Ashamed and embarrassed, I stood and assessed my situation, only to see a fully-adult, professional business person, launching into his own glorious PFTT at the agent.
I stood in amazement as we all watched the spectacle. This guy made such a fool of himself, a complete monster to that perfectly innocent airline agent, who was only trying to do her job. I couldn’t believe a grown man could show such cruelty and childish behavior in such a public place. I rolled my eyes to the puppy owner “Can you believe this guy?”
Once the circus stormed off to find his gate, I dragged myself over to the check-in line, which looked more like a human slaughter pen where fifty families enter, and one family leave.
The Self “Talking To”
With plenty of time for me to think – while I move six inches and drag the case, move six inches and drag the case – I initiated a little self-soothing conversation with myself:
Me: Hey, how you doing?
Me: What do you want? Don’t you have some mind-wandering to do?
Me: I get it. You had a frustrating day. It makes sense you almost completely melted into a toddler back there. It’s okay to be frustrated and have all those feelings.
Me: Oh, brother.
Me: It’s also funny, isn’t it? How you avoided making a complete ass of yourself, and then you somehow could show no empathy for that other guy who beat you to the punch?
Me: I’m about to beat you and your self-awareness with a punch.
Me: Fair enough. My point is this… You aren’t going to die. And you’re going to get home. And, well… you can’t really control this situation. So, what can you do instead?
Me:
Me: You can accept it. This won’t matter in five years. Will you even remember it?
Me: If I write a blog about it, I will. Now how about that punch.
Me: Oh, look, that agent is open and it’s your turn!
After all that, the agent took my bags and told me I have a seat on the standby flight. “Just head down those stairs and catch the tram.” That was it.
But Is It Ever Really Over?
I made it back to Chicago early, but I wasn’t home-home just yet, as my bags had not made it onto the flight.
So, in one final test of the night, I had to suppress one more PFTT waiting for some snobby lady in baggage claim customer service, before they reassured me my bags will arrive... later on my original flight.
One short hour later, this PFTTer made it home-home, excited to sit down to celebrate with some pizza-pizza.
But.. but… where is it? Why is the pizza box empty-empty?
%&@# – %&@#!!!!!!!