When I was in 3rd grade or so, my Dad got promoted, so he was around more. This meant he’d teach me math after school to improve my grades. In other words after an entire day of sitting in place trying to do okay at stuff I didn’t like, I had to sit in place trying to do okay at stuff I didn’t like. If I were obviously bored or doing badly he’d snap at me. He never hit; he called me stupid a lot and if I looked upset he’d yell at me to stop feeling sorry for myself.

He did try to improve my math skills this way off and on for years but a lot of memory is gone into the gray depression that was most of high school. Never music. I still can’t really read sheet music and I still hate math, I still feel it’s something for smart people. And then of course there was all the detention in high school especially, having to be trapped in school more as punishment. So I have baggage about “hey thought you were heading home THINK AGAIN!”

I mention this because that’s a thing pressing my buttons fairly regularly at this job, with the nigh constant “oh hey you don’t get to go home there’s EVEN MORE IMPORTANT CRAP you need to do”