What Out of Control Looks Like - A True Story

As I've mentioned previously, being in control - or rather being perceived as being out of control - was a factor in both workplace abuse situations.  However, in these cases being loud - once - was perceived as being out of control.  Allow a single tear to roll down my cheek in the first situation when faced with being overworked and being criticized for it, was also an instance of not being in control.

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During the time period when I was going through the first situation of workplace abuse, hubby and I took a trip to an Outlet Mall in New York State.  Parts of it are indoor including a food court, parts are outdoor.

We were at the food court when hubby drew my attention to something that was happening.

A  reak life "cat fight".

I'd never seen one before.  It was enlightening.

Two girls had some sort of an issue with each other.  Their voices sounded like the howling and yowling of two cats: hence the name cat fight.

One of the young ladies was standing on top of a table yelling at her adversary.  She even threw her shoe at her nemesis.

People were standing around watching, staring.

I was waiting for security to come and separate these two.

At some point, the voice of reason in the guise of a friend persuaded the lady on the table to get down.  Trying to get her to walk away from the conflict, the young lady turned back.  She had to get her shoe!  And put it on.

Afterwards, her friend did get her to head down a corridor and get away from the conflict.  We were behind.  Not so much by choice as by accident as we both were heading toward the same exit.

The young lady was visibly volatile.  Her friend kept trying to calm her down and get her out of the mall.

At one point, the young lady broke away from her friend and headed back to the food court. Fury visible in every line of her body.  I tried to get hubby to intervene.  However, getting involved in a cat fight is not his idea of having a good day.

Instead, I moved to the centre of the corridor, right in front of her.  All five feet zilch of me.  Looking at her directly, willing her to turn around.

She did.

Not one word was spoken between the two of us.

Crisis averted.

*****

I've never been on top of a table in a food court - or anywhere else.

I've thrown a shoe - once - when in therapy probably about 40 years ago.  My therapist got ballistic and threatened to terminate our counselling relationship.  I never did that again.

I slapped another person - my mother - once.  Again in the late 60s about 40 years ago.  Her reaction was so violent that I never attempted that again.  With her or anyone else.

Loud?  I'm a passionate person.  What can I say?  To that I plead guilty and throw myself on the mercy of the court ... er ... supervisor, reader, whoever.

If the above story is what out of control looks like, then I most definitely am not.