Ever since high school when a friend referred to her (strict, impatient) mom as having a Type A personality, I had a feeling I may also qualify for the label. But since, at least in my experience, Type A is never something you call someone as a compliment, I chose to ignore all of the signs and not identify with it.
Yesterday, as we were getting ready to leave a BBQ to go play kickball and I was helping to round people up by essentially yelling that it was time to go, one of my teammates said, “Type A.”
“Who, me?” I asked, genuinely curious who he was talking about.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.
Today I looked up the description of Type A just to be sure. According to wikipedia:
In his 1996 book, Type A Behavior: Its Diagnosis and Treatment, Friedman suggests that Type A behavior is expressed in three major symptoms: (1) free-floating hostility, which can be triggered by even minor incidents; (2) time urgency and impatience, which causes irritation and exasperation usually described as being “short-fused”; and (3) a competitive drive, which causes stress and an achievement-driven mentality.
They might as well just include a picture of me under the entry.
As I always suspected, then, it’s not flattering to be described as Type A. And in fact, many of the things about me that have been known to drive people crazy probably stem from one of the 3 things above.
But even though “free-floating hostility” isn’t something anyone should aspire to have, I can’t really be too bothered by this characterization. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, and while I sometimes try not to be this way (not successful) or at least temper some of the extremes of my personality (slightly more so in small batches), I know that if I weren’t Type A, I wouldn’t be me. And whether you like me or not–plenty of people don’t–I happen to, very much so.
So you can keep calling me Type A, and I will keep answering to it.