Rage Cookies
Or “How I Align with My Values When Things are Tough”
Freshly baked rage cookies.
It was the winter of 2002 in Omaha, Nebraska.
I was bartending back then — no work, no pay — so even on a blizzardy night, I drove through the snow to open the bar. No one else showed up, so I covered every shift. By closing time, I was exhausted, but at least I’d made good tips.
The snow had piled up again by the time I got home. My driveway sat at the top of a slick little hill, and it usually took two or three tries to make it up. I gunned it once — slid back down. Tried again — almost made it — then had to slam on the brakes because a neighbor was out snowblowing, completely blocking the alley. When he finally moved, my tires just spun.
Third and fourth try — same thing. There he was again. I honked, gestured wildly; he ignored me. I finally gave up, parked on the street, and trudged through the snow, fuming.
Inside, I unloaded every detail on my partner, every bit of my righteous anger. I was mad and I wanted to do something — anything — to gain back a modicum of control over the situation.
And so I did the only thing that made sense at the time: I baked.
I measured, sifted, and stirred with fury. I dropped spoonfuls of dough onto the pan like punctuation marks. By the time the cookies came out, warm and golden, I’d softened too. I packed up half of the batch, tied a bow, and left them on my neighbor’s doorstep with a note that began:
“We don’t know each other yet, but I’m the person who was trying to get up the alley while you were snowblowing. I was angry — but being angry didn’t feel good. So I baked. Baking felt better.
It also feels better to be connected. These are my favorite cookies. I hope you enjoy them.”
There were a lot of choices I could have made that night—many that would have felt good in the moment but would not have aligned with who I wanted to be. And every snowstorm after that, I came home to a freshly snowblown driveway.
So those were my rage cookies.
And I think about them often. When I am frustrated, hurt or mad and I feel the urge to behave in a way that is not aligned with my values, I pause. I think about how mad I was then, and how I was able to make a conscious choice to do something kinder than I was feeling at that moment. And I ask myself:
What can I actually control right now?
What action is most aligned with my values?
When I look back, how do I want to remember myself in this moment?
Values are the compass that guide us when the road is slippery, the hill is steep, and our neighbors are blocking the way.
So, what guides you?
Want your leadership to be aligned with your values?
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