Quite Contrary

I'm going to let all of you in on a secret about how to get outstanding results from me: tell me I can't do something.  And when I say, "tell me I can't do something," I don't mean forbid me from doing something.  Imply that it's impossible.  Tell me it's never been done for.  And I'll do it.  Just to prove you wrong.

 

The other day, someone asked me what I would consider my most defining characteristics.  I usually tell people my most defining characteristic is my quirkiness, but then I stopped and thought about it; quirkiness is not necessarily and identifier or a unique trait.  A particular brand of quirkiness, perhaps.  But as I pointed out to my mom the other day when we were discussing my parents' neighbor who shovels the snow off his lawn: "Everyone has their neuroses."

 

I decided I have two defining characteristics: bluntness and a certain defiant contrariness.  Oh, I do love to be contrary.

 

Why I turned out so contrary is a genetics vs. environment argument: Was it because my brother always argued with everyone, or was it because stubbornness runs deep in my family's gene pool?  (The bluntness comes from my dad, who also has no filter.  If we think it, it comes out of our mouths.  Not so for my mom and the rest of my family members.  Usually)

 

Anyway, here is an example of just how contrary I get: when I transferred to Weber, I found (much to my dismay) that I was required to take a math class.  The school wanted me to start at algebra-level math and work my way up to the requirement.  I would have none of that; I wanted to take one math class and be done, so I resolve to test into the GE requirement level.  I hoped to test out completely, but alas . . .

 

At that time, a girl I'd known in high school was a math tutor and told me she'd never heard of anyone testing to the exact level of the GE requirement or above it.  It had simply never been done, and she told me I had no chance of testing into the proper level of math.  My reaction?  "Watch me."  She bet me $10 I couldn't do it.  And then I did.  And then she had the nerve to tell me she didn't owe me any money because it had been a bet, and as good Mormon girls, we weren't supposed to gamble.

 

I told her it wasn't a gamble, since I'd known I could achieve what she considered impossible.  And while some might argue I had done all of that to prove a point to someone who had--quite frankly--driven me nuts for the entirety of my public education, I really did it because I enjoy being contrary.

 

In fact, I often believe I would be a much more motivated worker if someone told me about all of the impossible and insurmountable tasks here at the office. 

 

May I be accepted to some graduate schools soon.  I need something to be contrary about . . .