I think manipulative, to me, requires some sort of deviousness and evil master plannery. At least this control freak is straight up about their intentions and needs and wants. Manipulative would imply, to me, making you do what they want without you realizing it. Saying "jump" and expecting you to ask "how high" is pretty cut and dry.

I suppose there are control freaks who don't do much exercise control, but I'd call them more...control enthusiasts. Once the word "freak" shows up, we've biased negatively. There are ways to be manipulative, IMO, without being evil or devious. You just played a better game of people chess. But still, positing a control freak use a large number of techniques that are useful when controlling doesn't strike me as a large or damaging leap.

Since I'm not generalizing, I can say this person is controlling, to a point of unhealthy freakiness, and there's no wiles to it. It's a negative trait, for both me, others, and herself, but she's not Machiavellian about it. Worse, she's aware of it, says she wants to control things, and gets bitter and resentful when it's taken out of her hands, and is upfront as to why she's bitter and resentful. I wish she was good at people chess, because then she wouldn't have disregarded my advice to let things be for the week and wouldn't have stalked out in tears. And if the crying was supposed to be manipulative, she failed, because we were all "that sucks, but she did help create 75% of the situation as it ended up being. We like and value you, but please stop shooting yourself in the foot".

Anyway, the house and land I grew up in/on have been sold to her daughter. They're going to tear down the house and build a new one.

It is nice that it's staying in the family.

When Dad and I last visited the farmland he grew up on (homesteaded by his grandfather) there was a bit of an odd feeling seeing nearly all the out buildings gone and the main house looking very different. But the main house had been built when Dad was a kid--they always referred to it as the "new house," even when it was 70 years old, to distinguish it from the home built by Great-Ganddad. And the new house was more of a tribute to Granddad's skill at cobbling disparate elements that "fell off a truck" than any cleverness in construction. Dad slept in the top room and told me about walking up covered in snow in early winter, 'cause the roof wasn't quite right. This was in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. So, you know, eventually the snow filled in the cracks. Anyway, it was hardly a mansion, but as part of a working farm, with stables, chicken coop, sauna, etc., it was the home of his heart. The newer version was probably much more livable for a non-farming family, but the old one was home. I was kind of sad not to bury his ashes up north, but we put them with Mom's, in her family cemetery in Saginaw.

Having worked for a serious control freak, and having some controlling tendencies myself, I offer the suggestion that at least a part of the issue for many such may be fear and inability to trust others. Thinking of it this way made me much more tolerant of my control freak boss (although not so tolerant that I could possibly have continued in that job) and has made me try to be less controlly myself.

Also, I know I've told this story before, but my paternal grandfather's ashes are scattered in the bushes in the back yard of our house on Cape Cod, oddly with the ashes of my mother's cat. (Not scattered at the same time; my grandmother and aunt scattered grandfather's ashes, and mother later decided that Tucker would go there too.)

Time for market! Now if I could just stop sneezing....

Today I'm going to a big charity flea market and knitting mittens for charity (same charity, there's a knitathon in the upstairs room).

I'm still mourning my aunt's beach house, which may or may not (tipping towards Not at this point) be reconstructed. It was originally a 4 room that got extended by half... and then a second floor added on. And then the second floor got modified, and they remodeled the first floor and added a very rambling porch/deck. Not exactly 'architectural unity' but familiar like a comfortable broken-in shoe.

Plus it was the sole building left in the family from my childhood... and both my family home and my grandparents' beach house have been so completely and ugly remodeled that they are unidentifiable except by address.

Having worked for a serious control freak, and having some controlling tendencies myself, I offer the suggestion that at least a part of the issue for many such may be fear and inability to trust others. Thinking of it this way made me much more tolerant of my control freak boss (although not so tolerant that I could possibly have continued in that job) and has made me try to be less controlly myself.

Yep, ditto. My current boss, who I like a lot, is a crazy overbearing editor (things I am writing do not need to be in her style!), but I've decided to mostly feel bad for her about it.

I worked with one guy who was a control freak in the nicest way possible. He would literally triple-check data and if he found a mistake, he would let you know in the most apologetic but helpful way possible. His control-freakiness also manifested in making sure he treated his people right, so even if he didn't take breaks, he made sure we did.