Because I live about an hour from my job, the people I work with don’t get to see all sides of me.
I try to get involved socially as much as I can, but not as much as I might like. I just can’t see staying late to have fun with my friends instead of coming home and seeing my family.
That means, many of them only see the guy who dresses in a shirt and tie each day and makes bad jokes whenever he has a chance.
Sure, that sums me up pretty well, but some co-workers got a look at a different side of me the other day.
A group I worked with on a year-long project got together the other day to celebrate the end of our work. We decided to get out of the office and go bowling.
When the whole thing was planned, I think most people expected a nice, friendly outing where we had some pizza and maybe a beer while rolling a few leisurely games.
But none of these people know about competitive Brian. He generally doesn’t come out at work. I didn’t want them to see mean competitive Brian so I had to stay focused and let successful competitive Brian come out.
That didn’t take long. The first group had already started bowling when I arrived. A few of them put up some decent scores in the first few frames, letting me know I had to take things seriously.
The good news was that no one had strung together a bunch of strikes. I bowled in a league, but that didn’t mean I was that good. In fact, I was one of the worst bowlers in my league here in town, but I hoped that was good enough to help me out now.
After some others showed to join me on the second lane, I got ready. I mentally focused on the things I needed to do in order to have success. I recalled where I liked to line up. I reminded myself to take things slowly. I stepped up and prepared for my first frame.
Shortly after the ball left my hand, I heard the sound. Not cheers. Not the crash of pins, even though I did record a strike. I heard laughter.
Apparently, competitive Brian has a bowling style that my co-workers find funny. I wanted them to be impressed with my score, not amused by my form.
A couple of them pulled out their cameras and caught me on video. They laughed at how serious I looked after just missing a strike in a later frame.
They didn’t know that’s how competitive Brian rolls. I always caught grief from wrestling teammates for my body language. When I coached, people knew that I considered it a full body experience.
I have made great strides over the years not taking sports too seriously. Removing myself from coaching or playing has really helped.
I can’t totally change though, especially since I know that video will end up on Youtube or Facebook. Competitive Brian can live with that because he knows he beat the people who took it. And that’s all that matters, right?
I stuck to the more subtle things like, “Oh, wait, I don’t get a second ball? That’s right, I knocked them all down the first try!”
😀
No one ever wants to be “that guy” when it comes to competing in casual sports with people you work with. But really, if that’s all you’ve ever known, why fight it?
Once a winnner, always a winner?
That’s the way I look at it. I mean, it always helps to have a sense of humor when you laugh uproariously in the face of your co-workers. If you do that, then maybe they won’t realize how competitive you are. Maybe they’ll just stamp it up to “being lucky” when in reality it was nothing but pure, driven competitive desire.
hahahah.