The curse of being a rebel.

You can’t train yourself to be a rebel.
You’re either born as one, or you’re not.
To my luck and despair I have to confess that I’ve been a rebel all my life.
Some regard this as a blessing, but it’s also a curse.
Thirty years ago I had to choose where I’d like to do my military service (not all recruits had this possibility back then).
It was either a small town, just an easy 60 minutes daily commute from my home in Stockholm. Or, a cold and dark place way up north.
If you’re living in Stockholm you would probably pick the first alternative.
And, of course, so did most of us.
But me. No.
I was the only one out of seventy people that day who choose the latter.
Everyone in the room laughed out loud.
“What the hell do you want to go there for?”
“Voluntarily! Are you stupid?”
Not stupid, I replied. Curageos. Clearly I was in it for the thrill.
Shortly afterwards I realised that there are always two sides of a coin.
On the one hand, I was dead wrong. The place turned out to be the polar equivalent to hell. Conclusion: revolt is stupid.
On the other hand, it also dawned on me that I struck luck.
Because I soon discovered that my work schedule was nearly perfect.
For every three days on duty I got two days free.
On those days I returned home and worked in my uncle’s agency.
This turn of events probably made me the richest recruit in Sweden.
Conclusion: Rebellion may be stupid. But stupidity always open up new opportunities.

After a few weeks on duty I started to feel bored.
Without thinking about it I began to challenge the authorities.
I kept my jacket unbuttoned as often as I could.
Despite the blistering cold.
Just for the heck of it.
Probably just to se how far I could take it.
The officers kept yelling at me. They yelled till they were blue in the face.
But I continued to harass and obstruct.
One day I ran into an officer of the highest rank.
He spotted me with my jacket unbuttoned. And he exploded.
A flood of words hit me like George Foreman’s punches right in the face.
Suddenly he went silent and scrutinised me from head to toe.
“Are you a simpleton?” He asked. “Or are you just acting like one?”
I was fired on the spot and ended up as a privat soldier at a regement just five minutes from home.
It was painful, of course.
Still, I enjoyed the rush.
And ended up better off than expected.

I didn’t choose to be a rebel. That’s just the way I am. I can’t help it.
There are days I wish I wasn’t.
For instance, if I join a club where everyone is wearing blue jackets, I immediately start to feel an itch. And it won’t take long before I’ll show up in a red jacket. Don’t ask me why.
If someone challenges me on something, I’ll unconsiously put a lot of energy in proving him wrong.
And if some sort of authority says it’s like this, or like that, my experience is that I often do the opposite, whether I like it or not.
For some reason I have to. And to my surprise I often get away with it.
In this business we’re encouraged to think like this. In that case I may be fortunate, but this isn’t entirely a pleasant thing.

This reminds me of a monday morning many, many years ago.
Most agencies I’ve worked for start the week by having a meeting monday morning, 8 sharp.
I used to think these meetings was inefficient and a waste of peoples time and energy.
As usual I was alone in this opinion.
So I simply stopped showing up at the meetings.
It seemed to me that nobody ever noticed my absence.
But one monday morning I went straight to work without as much as a minute of sleep (this was in my late twenties and I had been out all night clubbing).
I had a cup of strong coffee and started to read the morning papers.
As I sat there reading, the people poured in, filled all the chairs. Papers rustling. Coffee-cups clattering. Voices babbling. Much like any ordinary morning.
All of a sudden I got the feeling that something was wrong.
I raised my eyes and hear myself saying: “Is this… Am I in a monday meeting?”
My boss, who had been sitting next to me for a while, read me like a book. He gave me a tired look and said:
“Well I’ll be damned. You’re here by mistake, aren’t you?”
People laughed.
I left the meeting a bit disdained.
So I decided to find a way to eliminate the problem.
A couple of years later I had a simple idea that cut the meetings in half.
Just move them from 8 am 11.30 am.
At this time of day people are busy and motivated, not to mention hungry.
Problem solved.
Everybody was happy.
The curse of being a rebel.