For a long time (my entire life?), I’ve had this mantra: Don’t get mad . . . Get even. As may be expected, it doesn’t always serve me well, but percentage-wise, I think I’m ahead of the game. In fact, it probably began as a youngster when I lost at games - cards, touch football, Monopoly and my all-time “I Gotta Win This” favorite - Scrabble. I took the eight-hour proctored test to get into Mensa because #1, I wanted to meet cute boys (men), and #2, I wanted to beat them at the Scrabble tournaments.
My nephews, nieces and grandchildren can attest to my show-no-mercy tactics over a game of Monopoly, although I’m now a little regretful because nobody wants to make an 8-year-old cry. If they happened to make a lucky strike and get ahold of the coveted Boardwalk or Park Place, I immediately put hotels on all my properties and sent them to the poor house, ignoring entreaties to borrow money from the bank so they wouldn’t be kicked out of the game. At the time, I thought I was teaching them an important life lesson, and who knows, at some future point it may shake out that way. I also tried to inculcate my grandchildren to always stand up for themselves.