Names have been changed to protect the slightly guilty (me).

So I get this call from Angela, a manager from another department, asking for my help to finalize a document on the computer.  I agree and wait for the document to show up in my “to do” list.  An hour later there’s no sign of the document and I’ve got to run to a meeting, so I call to tell Angela that I couldn’t help her.

OTHER PERSON
Hello, you’ve reached such-and-such.  May I help you?

ME
Hi, this is Art from what-do-ya-call-it.  Can I speak with Angela, please?

OTHER PERSON
Who is this?

ME
Art from what-do-ya-call-it.

OTHER PERSON
Who?

ME
Art.  May I please speak with Angela?

OTHER PERSON
What do you want to talk to Angela about?

ME
I couldn’t help her with a document.

OTHER PERSON
What is it that you want to talk to Angela about?

ME
I couldn’t help her.

OTHER PERSON
What was that you wanted to talk to Angela about?

ME
I couldn’t…(losing it) Just get her on the (fucking) phone! (The fucking was silent).

OTHER PERSON
(bitter)
Angela is not here.  She stepped out half an hour ago.

ME
Can I please leave a message?

OTHER PERSON
Who is this again?

ME
Art.

OTHER PERSON
Who?

ME
Art from what-do-ya-call-it.

OTHER PERSON
Who?

ME
Arrgh!

I felt this rage well up and I could have chosen not to get mad, but decided to go for it anyway.  It felt good momentarily and I felt guilty just after (though not all that guilty).

My spouse later wondered what the hell else was going on with me, and I admitted that I’m frustrated that my writing isn’t as good as I want it to be (lame but true).

Instead of getting angry with myself and feeling hopeless and depressed (about the writing), I displaced my anger onto this other poor schnook (who was pretty unhelpful, when you get down to it).

Sounds crappy, I know, but this is a step up for me.