"I Don’t Have an Anger Problem. Everyone Else Has a Thinking Problem."

A look at anger, everyday incompetence, and why being right doesn’t always mean responding well..or letting other people take control of your day.

Judy D. Lamb Ph.D.

9/8/20263 min read

I Don’t Have an Anger Problem. Everyone Else Has a Thinking Problem.

“I don’t have an anger problem. I just hate stupid people.”

People say this as if the distinction clears everything up.

Oh. Well, that’s different.

The anger is perfectly healthy. Unfortunately, the stupid people have organized and keep getting assigned to his lane.

And I understand the frustration. I’ve driven on public roads. I’ve waited behind someone at self-checkout who appeared not to know where they were or how commerce works.

But “stupid” is a very generous category.

It includes people who are genuinely incompetent, but also people who are slow, distracted, confused, new, or doing something differently than we would.

The driver who doesn’t signal is stupid. The coworker who asks a question answered in the email is stupid. The person who loads the dishwasher like a raccoon is stupid. The customer who reaches the front of the Chipotle line and only then begins considering whether they enjoy rice has failed all of us.

Usually, “stupid” means:

This person has inconvenienced me while having access to the same number of chromosomes I do.

Marcus Aurelius knew these people.

He begins one section of Meditations by reminding himself that he will meet meddling, ungrateful, dishonest, envious, and antisocial people that day.

That is quite a morning routine.

Some people wake up and name five things they’re grateful for. Marcus woke up and reviewed everyone who was going to get on his nerves.

He was also the emperor of Rome. If anyone had the authority to have an annoying person quietly transferred to a distant province, it was Marcus. Instead, he told himself not to be surprised.

People are going to misunderstand instructions. They will overlook information directly in front of them. They’ll stop in the middle of the grocery aisle to decide what mustard means to them.

We already know this.

And yet every time it happens, we react as if stupidity has just been released to the public.

The problem is that anger feels especially reasonable when we’re right.

If I’m wrong, fine. Maybe I should calm down.

But if I’m right, then obviously we should continue until everyone understands how right I am.

I’m not yelling. I’m emphasizing.

I’m not being hostile. I’m explaining the situation at a volume appropriate to the distance between you and common sense.

Unfortunately, being right and responding well are different skills.

You can be right about the driver who cut you off and still ruin your afternoon over someone who has already forgotten you exist.

You can be right that the answer was in the email and still spend more time constructing a response that proves it was in the email than it would have taken to answer the question.

You can be right about the dishwasher and still never receive the medal.

Sometimes the better question isn’t, “Am I right?”

You probably are. Congratulations.

The question is, “Is what I’m doing helping?”

This is less satisfying. Contempt feels productive. For a few minutes, we become the volunteer quality-control department for the human race.

But eventually, every one of us becomes the stupid person.

We miss the email. We hesitate at the green light. We enter a room and forget why. We stand at self-checkout trying to remember whether a cucumber is listed under “C” while the person behind us begins drafting a manifesto.

There is no permanent class of competent people. We rotate.

The goal isn’t to stop noticing stupidity. That would be reckless. Someone needs to monitor the situation.

The goal is to stop handing every stupid person we encounter complete control of our heart rate, our tone of voice, and the rest of our afternoon.

Because if stupid people can control you that easily, you’ve put the least qualified people in charge.