I’ve always been very competitive. When I play something, I play to win. I’m not all in-your-face, and I don’t talk much smack, and I’m a good winner and loser, but I definitely am not casual when it comes to any kind of competition. And I’m not competitive just with things I’m good at either; I’m competitive in any sport (though I don’t often play any sport), any game (I’ll play any game at the drop of a hat), and any even mildly challenging subject.
Because I’m willing to compete on anything, it’s not unusual for me to lose at something. Several years ago, (two companies and four jobs ago), our department had a foosball table. One of the guys in the department was a real wiz at the game. For a few months, I played him one to three times a day but I never won a single game. The best I ever got was to give him an actual challenge.
I didn’t mind losing because I didn’t lose because I especially sucked, it was that he was so good. Another guy in the department could occasionally beat the wiz — they were definitely the #1 and #2 players in the department. I was able to sometimes beat that #2 guy, but never the #1. I liked to think of myself as the #2.5 guy.
When I think back to times in my life when I’ve lost at something, there are two times that stick out in my mind. Both are sore memories, and they annoy me. I really hated losing those two particular times. Both are from my high school years, with guys that I really wanted to best.