When I was a teenager, I had a temper problem. I got angry and the smallest things, and I'd scream and yell until I got my way or I got grounded, whichever came first. I started a job that had to do with some machinery, and occasionally the machines would break. I'd have to go fix what broke, then start it up again. And my machine broke a lot. I would cuss and scream and kick the damn thing, and I'd get so angry that I'd have to do it over and over.

One day my boss comes over and just starts helping me fix the machine. He's humming a little song and happily fixing things. And I just looked at him, and I said "Doesn't this fucking piss you off? That this fucking machine keeps fucking breaking?" (I was a kid. "Fucking" was a fun word to say. Still is, actually.)

He looks at me and says, "Does the machine care if you're mad?"

Huh.