I was trying hard to be an individual, but I just wasn't getting the hang of it.
I drank my morning coffee out of a limited edition (only 15 million forged) "I am an individual" mug. I kept track of my busy schedule on my "Whee to be me!" desk calendar, featuring daily quotes on individual freedom by such great thinkers as Socrates, de Tocqueville and Luke Perry. My "You are the only you there is" keychain went with me everywhere.
Still, I had doubts. Driving home from work, I couldn't help but notice how many other people's cars had "Handle with care - I'm the only me there is" bumper stickers. While shopping, I started counting how many people had Individual's Choice brand products in their baskets.
I finally lost it the seventeenth time I saw a person in a "Uniquely me" t-shirt. "No, I'm sorry," I said. "This is not working for me."
"What's the problem?" They asked.
"I don't know how anybody can claim to be an individual when they're just buying the same things millions of other people buy."
They did not seem amused. "What else would make you an individual?" They reasonably asked.
"Personal experiences...memories - original thoughts?"
"Un hunh. But, how would that contribute to the economy?"
I had no answer. They said They knew what was best for me, and that I could be an individual if I just tried a little harder. They got me a membership in the John Stuart Mill Freedom Society (12 million members, and growing!), which included a subscription to The Individualist Newsletter (a mass circulation publication, natch).
They suggest I go on a "Regaining your lost individuality" weekend retreat (US$575, including two meals a day and a bound copy of all the seminar notes). I wasn't enthusiastic, but They claimed to be acting in my best interests, and I didn't want to let Them down.
The woman behind the induction desk took my entry form with a big, warm smile. I wondered how much it had cost her. "Aah," she said, "I was told to expect you. You're a bit of a rebel, aren't you?" I blushed. The woman handed me a programme the size of Volkswagen. "You might want to consider what's on page 1,237," she suggested.
When I got to my room, I found the programme less than reassuring. Seminars offered that weekend included: "Women and Cosmetics: Can There Be Too Much Choice?" and "Forging a New Identity Through Positive Identification With Television Soap Opera Characters," which, the programme warned, was expected to fill up early.
When I got to page 1,237, I found it was the start of a 12 page advertisement for "The Rebel Look," which included slicked back hair, leather jacket, three tattoos and a Harley. A bargain at a mere $12,999.99, plus applicable taxes. Looking over the package, I thought, This is what James Dean died for?
I didn't have time to dwell on my disappointment, however; I was immediately hustled off to dinner, then a wild man session. A dozen men stripped to their shorts sat in a circle around a campfire, drums in front of them. Three or four of them had the rebel 'do and tattoos (the Wild Man meets The Wild One?). Sheet music had been thoughtfully provided for our chanting pleasure.
I tried. Really, I tried. But, the chanting started taking on the rhythms of a beer commercial jingle. "This is ridiculous!" I stood up and shouted. "Individuality isn't something you can buy - it's innate. You either are an individual or you aren't. On the other hand, it is something you can give away..."
There was stunned silence. Then, one of the men said, "Individuality is innate...you know, that would probably sell well on a t-shirt..."
Another man chimed in: "Individuality can't be bought - what an interesting concept. Do you have a book out on the subject?"
"You're missing the point!" I cried. "For god's sake, do it yourself!"
"Do it yourself...do it yourself..." one man ruminated. "Didn't I see that on a bumper sticker?"
