Color Me Red

I recently took one of those personality tests popular with large corporations, the kind that assigns each personality type to a color quadrant. I thought I was blue – cool, dispassionate, analytical. Turns out I was wildly off-target.

In reality, I’m undeniably red – driving, dictatorial, interested more in results than relationships. I’m not even vaguely warm and fuzzy, not even in my sleep. In short, I’m an asshole.

Recognizing my true self has been liberating. I no longer have to fain interest in other people’s opinions or their children. (In all honesty, I don’t dislike all children, just the ones near me.) Nor do I have to pretend that corporations are driven by anything other than self-interest.

I have embraced my inner asshole.

As a newly declared curmudgeon, I should urge others to also come out of the closet but I don’t really care.

And you know that silly questionnaire every new employee is required to complete, the one with the inane request: Name a guilty pleasure? Well, I no longer regret my answer: Sheep.

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