You Wanna Piece of Me?

Bring it on.

Setting: Classroom for adult learners, “Using Children’s Literature to Teach Economics,” October 2016, small group “friendly’ competition

Cast of characters: Susie, Male Group Member, Female Group Member (non-speaking)

Male Group Member: Well, we don’t HAVE to win.

Susie: Hi, have you met me?

I was joking. Mostly. Kind of. The dude did not think I was funny in the least, and we did not become bosom friends. But look: I don’t believe in half-assing a project. The only thing I really believe in half-assing is housework. If you are doing a group project and the best project will be named the winner, then you do everything you can to be that winner. Otherwise, what is even the point?

Before you begin to think the worst of me, Dear Reader, please know that I am a pretty good loser. If you honestly beat me, I will roll my eyes dramatically and then congratulate you with a smile. The only times I ever get upset over losses are: 1) when I have not done my best, or 2) when there is a clear injustice involved.

A few years ago, we had an all-district staff gathering before winter break. The big team-building game was trivia — Christmas-themed, naturally. All was going well (i.e. my team was 9 for 9) until the last question: How many ghosts visited Ebenezer Scrooge in “The Christmas Carol?”

My group looked at me. I confidently cried, “FOUR!” (but in a stage whisper so the other groups wouldn’t hear). Time ran out, the answer came up on the screen as three, and our rival group cheered! They had won! Some light trash-talking came my way and I would normally have taken it with good humor. Except.

Some of you out there are with me. You are indignant on my behalf. You have a primal scream roiling in your chest, ready to explode with, “WHAT ABOUT MARLEY????” Folks, remember Jacob Marley? Started off the whole haunting shebang by visiting Scrooge with all the chains and moaning and the like? As a former Ghost of Christmas Present (circa 1988), I know for certain that Marley joined me (along with Past and Yet to Come) for our curtain call at the end of the show. There were FOUR ghosts, y’all.

You know how it looks when you approach the frazzled, exhausted, 15-minutes-before-a-long-needed-break staff member, who spent quite a bit of her own time on this little party, and demand (ok, mention sheepishly) that you actually had the right answer to the trivia question?

It looks like you care waaaaaaaaaaaay too much about winning. Maybe I do. I also — arguably — care too much about small inaccuracies. And grammar, particularly in emails and pop songs. (“Where it’s at?” “Say a little prayer for I?” Give me an aneurysm, why don’t you?) But I digress.

When I was little, my mom taught me to play Crazy 8s. After the first couple of games, she looked me in the eye and said, “You understand that you’re never going to beat me, right? I’m the all-time champion of Crazy 8s and you will always lose.” Now, this might be the same kind of parenting psychology as, “There is one ticklish spot on my feet but I don’t think you’ll ever find it,” which resulted in years of basically giving her foot massages. The point is, I get this competitive thing from my mom. Yes, my dad was a team sports guy and always played to win, but what my mom and I share is different.

I don’t think that this competitive spirit is toxic, by the way. For some of us, life is simply more interesting if it is a bit of a contest. I freely admit to having no chill, and I like to think it’s endearing.

It is, right? RIGHT?

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie

Dan and I were valiantly trying to win a Minute to Win It challenge. Reader, we did not.