I am slowly moving towards becoming an asshole.
At the six-month mark of every year, I do a mid-year review of myself and the assessment isn't looking good: I don't quite like myself at this stage.
"Hurry up, Adam. Do you want this or not?" Stanley interrupted at the end of his couch, tapping furiously into his iPhone.
We were at Stanley's cosy Queens Close flat that afternoon for our regular get together and right now, our sex bunny friend is busy buying wine.
"Group buys are the best," he reasoned. "In fact, groups are great," the sex bunny friend added without anyone asking.
While Stanley was adding to his cart dozens of highly-rated Amarones and Chateauneuf-du-paps, I continue typing this blog entry, lamenting to the boys that I needed to tone down my temper.
Carl the dense one nodded, and let out a wheezing snore at one corner of Stanley's home.
"Done!" Stanley said, startling our sleeping beauty.
"Now, go on, Adam," Stanley said, peering into my laptop screen.
"Do you ever clean your laptop?" he asked and ran a finger across my screen to show me a thin layer of dust.
"That's another thing to dislike myself for," I said with a pout. "I'm filled with flaws, boys."
Stanley rolled his eyes and walked away.
Now, let's back up this story for some context.
In recent months, I've had several outbursts at work. They mostly involve me either snapping, shouting, or being very sarcastic to my bosses or people of higher rank than I.
"That's not a bad thing," Stanley shouted from his toilet, trying to compete with the gurgling sound of his own pee as it made contact with toilet water.
"I also snap and shout at people above me -- and if I'm in the mood, I also let out a moan and a series of vulgarities that mention my Maker."
Stanley's grin faded when he saw me roll eyes.
"Okay, so you've been unpleasant at work. But from the stories you'd been telling me, it seems like those bosses of yours deserve your fury," said Stanley, best friend and enabler.
True. That's my constant thought. These idiot management types get paid so much and do so little and when they actually do do something, they're incompetent.
And that really triggers me.
The latest episode was actually just yesterday when I snapped at an HOD who's infamous for being extremely lazy. That lazy HOD snapped back. And I fought back with more aggression until she backed down.
Though it looked like I won the verbal war, I felt bad.
Not because I was wrong professionally. But because on a personal level, I realise just what a bitch I had become.
Which brought me to the realisation that I'm moving towards being an asshole.
"Sometimes, moving towards an asshole can be a very exciting thing," Stanley said moving his hand and a glass of red wine towards me.
I glanced at his clock which is 5:13pm. At Stanley's, white wine is served before 4pm, and after 4pm, it's red.
"This is a very good Amarone," Stanley said.
A little swivel, a deep sniff and an appreciative sip, and all felt good.
"This is good," I agreed.
"So, you're becoming an asshole. And you know it," Stanley said after sipping his wine. "There's awareness of that, and also an intention to do something about it. That's not the end of the world, right?"
Stanley is right.
The end of the world would be when I don't realise I'm an asshole and even when told, don't want to do anything about it.
It's time to take action, I said to Stanley and the breathing body that's Carl, who's head is slumped on his left shoulder, drool threatening to drip out.
"Besides, it's only half the year gone. You can always do better in the next half."
"Just as long as you want to do it, Adam. Use your intellect to overcome your emotions," said Stanley who is channelling the Dalai Lama.
Stanley -- on some rare occasion -- can be so wise.
"Life is too short. Be the change you don't like, and let's hope your bosses don't poke the bear and trigger you anymore," Stanley continued.
"Though in some cases -- such as mine -- poking the bear and triggering things can be an exceptionally enjoyable activity."
