Squawk Radio

Wednesday, May 03, 2006


As I see it, we generally fall into categories. There are those who handle failure with grace and serenity. "Ah," they say to themselves, there's always another time to win the promotion, the lottery, the prize, the Miss America Pageant, the Superbowl, American Idol."

"Next time," they muse to themselves..."Meanwhile I will gather my strength and hone my skills until I will stroll into the areana, the acknowledged winner.
Then there are those who don't
handle failure all that well. Let's say that they find it hard now to howl at the heavens. "How could you do this to me? ME? ME?"

"I worked so hard; I gave it my all. The person who won hardly tried at all and they certainly didn't deserve to win (why, that girl is so young her mother is still cutting her toenails)."

We yowl. We cry. We generally carry on. A stiff drink results in more tears rather than better cheer.

And then finally, well, I hate to admit it, but there's me.

I honestly think it's hard-wired in me, but when I fail at something, I get really, really angry. Pissed off. Pretty much ballistic. It only matters a little bit if I know that I didn't really deserve whatever it was. Most of the time I think that I do deserve it (surprise there, huh?) and I respond with rage to the announcement of my failure.

It has come to my notice that not ALL the Squawkers are like me. In fact, it seems to have become an annual pleasure for them to remark on how badly I take it when I final for the RITA (romance fiction's top prize) and then don't win. I'm .... well ... pissy.

How do the rest of you respond? Give us an example of failing...and please don't tell me I'm the only one out there doing a good imitation of a red-eyed devil!
Eloisa James, 9:43 PM