NOTE: This happened about 10 years ago.
The cutest little quilted, racing-jacket-looking, pink, purple, and white handbag appeared on my laptop screen. . . . I can’t even remember. Maybe on one of those “Sponsored” posts that are basically just ads on Facebook. Maybe on Coach’s Facebook page. But that’s not the point — the point is that I had to have it. Immediately. Right then and there.
We jumped into the car, and drove to the nearest Coach store, just a few miles north of us. I was elated to be able to have that bag that I had to have: I could feel my fingers running across the cool, quilted fabric; its small size, perfect enough to carry my essentials: lip balm, a small wallet, my keys, my phone.
When we walked to the counter to speak to a saleswoman . . . she told us that they just sent the last one back. Suddenly, my head was hot: a there-was-no-way-this-was-happening hot.
I stomped my feet; was spewing out invective both to my husband and the saleswoman about how it wasn’t fair; and crying. The saleslady was able to place an order for it, so that I could have the last bag. My husband was embarrassed. The only thing I didn’t do, is throw myself belly-down and hit the carpeting with fists and feet!
I don’t even know if this is mental illness, but my grandfather and I were very close, and he and my grandmother pretty much gave me whatever I wanted. My therapist said that this developed a sense of entitlement in me, in which I feel that I should have anything and everything I want.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a full-blown tantrum. And who knows? Maybe I’ll have another one some day. But I’m learning a lot of skills in the PHP program, that I can use if it comes up.