On being 'as advertised'...

How many times have you bought something that wasn't quite as advertised? Or dated someone who turned out to be someone else or turned into someone you didn't want to know? Or employed someone (or joined a company) who turned out not to be what you thought you'd bought?

Earlier this week I met with someone I hadn't seen for around 10 years. He said that I hadn't changed a bit and I was reminded of something he said to me when we first met (in a professional capacity) at the end of the 90's. He said that the thing he found refreshing about me was the fact that I said what everyone else was thinking. And that's true. It's a trait, not a confection. You could say that I'm well known for it.

Being clear about what you mean, what you think and what you are means that you inevitably acquire a sub-set of descriptors: difficult, maverick, opinionated and polarising being just a few. But is there any other way to be? I decided a long time ago that there wasn't because it can cost you dear. Here's why.

Barnsley School of Art 1979. The school had a 3 late’s and you get a formal warning letter policy. I'd been late twice in one week and had somehow managed to orchestrate a third. I was up the you-know-what creek. I arrived to find an empty studio, which made matters much, much worse, because according to the timetable that's where everyone should have been. So I went to the office and, naturally, it was being manned by no less than the Senior Tutor (crapola!) who told me to go to the 2nd year studio where some people were waiting to speak to me.

That was it. Warning letter. Big fat splodge on my copybook. I was bricking it, so – ever the strategist – I hastily decided that humility was the best defence (even though it goes against the grain) and that I would be as compliant as possible and not return verbal fire in the usual manner in the hope that they would let me off.

Opening the door to find 8-10 people found me cranking up the humility knob to 11 and mentally sellotaping it there. I noticed that they were scrutinizing every gesture and movement and looking me up and down. They never took their eyes off me. One chap, who I took to be the leader since he was the only one sitting down, started asking me questions about me, my family and basically my opinion on 'stuff'. Think Anne of Green Gables... I didn't even recognise myself. I remember wondering if they were educational shrinks, so I pulled the sellotape off the knob and created another couple of notches.

That afternoon I sought out the Senior Tutor to apologize for my tardiness and to find out what it was all about.

It transpired that I had just been auditioned by Ken Loach and his associates for the lead in his new film and I had been totally oblivious to it. He had sent a brief to the school (this was the way he had cast Kes in neighbouring schools, Barnsley being a favorite casting pond) detailing the kind of personalities he wanted to meet and all had agreed that is was me to a 'T'. My tutors said that they were flummoxed by his description of me as being too sweet and girly and therefore not right, since as far as they were concerned I was a shoo-in. So I fessed up and all became clear.

But it was too late.
I'd f***ed up by being something I wasn't.

Never again.

Which is why I'm not.

It really doesn't pay.