This is why it’s so important to speak your mind when you’re frustrated. If you bury it, try to hide it, try to deny it to yourself, one day, you’ll go volcanic and unleash your rage upon an unsuspecting world.
With that said, these Quora users were kind enough to talk about the time they really blew a stack.
What’s the angriest you’ve ever been?
I was dating a white girl (Im Black). She invited me to her cousin’s wedding rehearsal, and I was the only Black person there.
At the dinner, some of her family members began a very uncomfortable conversation with me about Black American slang. It wasnt really a conversation. It was them expressing their belief that only Black people use slang. And they thought I should speak for my race. I tried to change the conversation to how all Americans use slang. But they kept ignoring that.
During the conversation, one of the cousin’s white friends turned to me and said, “Aye yo Jeremy, when we get back to the crib (house), we gon get on da puta (computer), yo!”
I was ready to blow. It was written all over my face. Some of the people sitting near me got up and left. I finally exploded, demanding to know why they were insulting me.
I was led out into the hallway by two women. They were trying to get me to calm down.
Eventually, I did, and I went back inside for the dinner. But the mood had completely changed. I was now the bad guy. Nobody would acknowledge me. I vowed never to place myself into another situation like that for the rest of my life.
Needless to say, I soon stopped dating that woman. She blamed me for their behavior towards me.
This story involves the police.
About four years ago, when I was in high school, I was a fairly well-known online gamer. Youre probably wondering, what does that have to do with the police? A lot, actually.
One day, while on the ranch with my family like typical Montanans, we received a call from the Sergeant of the local police force. Apparently, they had received a call reporting that our house, where we normally live, currently had a hostage situation underway. They told us that someone had broken into our home and was holding the family there at gunpoint.
The person who had called them was, allegedly, me.
My mom, understandably horrified, gave the phone to me as I explained to her that I knew what was happening. To those who arent familiar, this prank – its called swatting.
Swatting is the act of deceiving an emergency service (via such means as hoaxing an emergency services dispatcher) into sending police or a 911 emergency service response team to another person’s address
I had to explain to the Sergeant that I did, in fact, not call them; that this is probably someone who thought itd be funny to prank me because Im decently known online. He believed me after I explained, and was pretty understanding. However, he also explained that they had to break down the door because it was locked.
Now I was furious. Some random dude on the internet thought itd be funny to do this, and now we had to pay for the damages?!
Not to mention, whoever did this also wasted a LOT of police officers time.
And for those who are curious as to how these random people found out my address, its actually terrifyingly easy to figure things like that out online.
Since then, I have always taken steps to privatize my information.
Are you Chinese?
I looked up from my Probiotics for Dummies book. An elderly white man gazed pointedly at me.
So many Chinese people here… Why dont you go back to China?
I felt as if I had just been slapped. Anger began simmering in my gut. Why would you say that?
Well, I was born in America. Thats it!? Thats my best response!??!? I started to get up from my seat, hand reaching for my cup of coffee.
How old are you?
Nineteen, I responded automatically. No, Julianne! Ignore him and walk away!
He did a double take. Wow, thought you were much younger… he mumbled under his breath. Well, at any rate, youre clearly only here to marry a nice American boy, huh?
I clenched my jaw in anger. It took every ounce of self-control that I had in me to walk out of the hotel lobby.
I VOTED FOR TRUMP! he shouted after me.
Id have loved to pour my piping hot coffee on his head, but such a reaction would have been exactly what he wanted. Screw him. I. Am. An. American.
I arrived in England and I was trying to get a job while living in a hostel. Employers were saying that they couldnt hire me if I didnt have a debit card or a bank account, so I went to the bank to open one. But the bank said that I cant open an account if I dont have a British address. Ugh. So I went to rent a place so that I would have a British address, but they said I couldnt rent because they needed proof that I had a job. UUUUUGH!
For about nine months, I dated a closeted trans woman. My father wasn’t pleased, and occasionally made nasty comments about her and her gender. He told me she was a dangerous, corrupting influence, and called her derogatory names.
I am used to my father, so I held my tongue.
But one day, in the middle of a minor and unrelated argument, as I, sobbing and on the verge of a panic attack, tried to get him to give me enough space to calm down, he threatened her. He suggested that he might go to her home and out her to her parents.
Now anyone who follows the news knows it’s a dangerous world when youre LGBT. Being outed could have changed my ex-girlfriends life, ruined it even. It could have put her in serious danger.
I saw red.
Face still dripping with snot and tears, heart racing from my panic attack, I got up and shouted at my father, which is always a dangerous thing to do.
I told him he had no right to threaten my girlfriend’s safety, that this had nothing to do with her. I told him he had better leave her alone. I said I was the one he wanted to hurt, so he should go ahead.
I’m crying as I write this, because I was terrified he wouldn’t listen. I was terrified her life would be derailed because I upset my father. And I was scared of what my father would do to me.
I was sixteen and small, with no leverage, nothing to bargain with. But thankfully he listened, and he never threatened her in our arguments again.
A few years ago, I was eating lunch with my (former) friend. We were just chatting about our day, and all that basic stuff, when things started to heat up.
Hey Alex, speaking of which, where were you yesterday evening? Why couldn’t you come to my house?
Oh, I had a session with my psychologist.
Why do you need a psychologist?
He helps me cope with my suicidal thoughts and mental illne-
You do realize that mental illnesses don’t exist, right?
Yeah they do, I have been dealing with them for years!
That’s only because you aren’t trying enough! We all have emotions, at least I know how to deal with them!
Was this kid seriously trying to telling me the forces that kept me from getting up in the morning don’t exist?
Was he telling me I chose to cut my wrists just because?
Sure, it may appear that I am fine, but sometimes, Im just not.
Yes, the cuts and wounds on my wrist and neck have healed, but inside, I have scars that run deep.
I may not be in tears, but sometimes on the inside, I am sobbing, hoping for it all to end.
What makes me most mad is when I do finally get somewhere, I had to deal with a friend telling me that all my problems could be solved immediately if I just tried.
All of those nights I told myself to keep fighting, despite my inner voice telling me to end it – those werent real?
I can’t stand the denial of mental illnesses.
Mental illnesses are real! Also, your problems and struggles do matter. Never allow anyone to tell you otherwise!
When I was a kid, I really wanted a remote-controlled helicopter.
I worked my butt off trying to convince my parents to get me one. I did all my chores, made my own bed, completed my homework on time, and even got into trouble only once a week rather than the usual daily dose. I was practically a model child.
My efforts paid off, because my parents finally decided to buy the helicopter for me. I was overjoyed when I tore open the box and held it in my hands. I inserted the batteries and started flying it. As expected, it was awesome.
As a child, I lived with both my parents and my pesky younger brother. That kid could only keep a toy for three days tops before breaking it.
Now, I was not about to have my brother break a helicopter I had worked so hard for. So, I specifically told him not to touch it. I even stowed it on a shelf he was too short to reach, just to be safe.
One day, I went out to do some work. When I returned, I saw my brother outside my house. In his hand was a familiar remote controller.
And on the ground, in pieces, was my helicopter.
My little brother had somehow got hold of it, broken it almost immediately. All of my hard work had come crashing down, both figuratively and literally.
At that moment, I was so infuriated that even the Incredible Hulk would have told me to chill. If my dad hadnt been there watching over my brother, I would’ve cleaned his clock.
Fuming, I lay down on my bed, and stared up at the ceiling with an intense frown. After I calmed down, I realized there was no point in being mad, as that would accomplish nothing.
There was a time while my ex-wife and I were were still married, when she told me that she was seeing another man.
Naturally, I was devasted, and I did everything within my power to talk her out of what she was doing. But she was stubborn, as well as bold and brazen.
One evening, while I was sitting on the living room floor and playing with our 4-year-old son, she was in the bathroom. I didnt realize it, but she was getting herself ready for a date. She stepped out into the living room looking like a million bucks. Then she walked toward the front door of our apartment and said that she was going out.
Wait a minute! I called out to her. Where are you going? But she was out the door by that time. So, I got up and followed her. I repeated my question as she headed toward the parking lot. Im going out with Bill! was her annoyed reply.
I voiced my objection all the way to the parking lot—where she approached the passenger side of a car that was waiting for her. I put my hand on the door to prevent her from opening it, and then the window rolled down…
There was Bill; he looked at me and decided to try lecturing me. I heard him say, Mike, Mike, Mike… with his Southern drawl, and I lost it. It was the one and only time in my life when I went into a blind rage.
When I came to me senses, I found myself inside his car—wailing on him. He eventually pushed his way out of the door and fell onto the ground, with me sprawling on top of him.
He struggled to his feet, and I followed. He was much bigger than I was, so I kept one hand on his collar to hold him down —until he eventually broke free of my grasp and ran away.
I dont remember the kind of car that he drove, but it was small and it had a manual transmission. It got knocked into neutral during our altercation, and it rolled down the gentle slope of the parking lot and crashed into a dumpster.
I was robbing a bank in Zurich.
Before I continue, Id like to clarify: This was part of a training exercise for bank staff on how to survive an armed robbery. I used to do a lot of playing the bad guy during police exercises, due to my background and experience in *cough* related areas. So this was all harmless and legal.
It was a very elegant upmarket bank with a few old-fashioned marble desks at about chest height with expensive leather covers. The entire bank staff was watching when the head cashier took his turn.
I walked in, whipped out a gun (not loaded) and slammed a paper bag onto the desk. I told him to take a step back and keep his hands where I could see them. I was going to tell him to fill the bag and make no sudden movements, when I saw that he had pressed the alarm button and was smirking at me, thinking hed been terribly clever.
I got so furious that I took off like a rocket and landed with both shoes on the expensive leather desktop; I leaped at him, picked him up, and slammed him against the back wall of the atrium, with his feet dangling off the ground.
Did you press the alarm? I asked politely. From then on, he did exactly as I told him, and filled the bag with money.
The CEO, after the exercise, checked that I hadnt scuffed the expensive leather, looked at me, looked at his cashier and said, THAT is why you dont try to be a hero if someone points a gun at you. Our money is insured. Dont get yourself killed because of it.
And then he looked at me and said You scared the crap out of me. Ive never seen anyone take off like that. I hope that ,if we ever get robbed, its not you.
Answers edited for clarity.