Difficulty Level - Authority

It's occurred to me recently that I have a problem with authority. However given past evidence, I probably should have realised it sooner. I mean any job I've had I've resented whenever my employer got serious and told me to do things, rather than ask me. If they were to ask me to do something then I would have no problem whatsoever doing it. But as soon as they told me outright to go do this or that, the next hour or 2 would be spent silently cursing them and grinding my teeth.

Let me tell you about A-Level history. A-Level History was taught to me by a man named Colm Morgan, the bane of my existence and reason for my raging inferno of hatred that now runs through my veins instead of blood. I got along famously with my other teachers. My English Literature teacher was crazy easy to chat to, my Business Studies teacher thought I was hilarious, but Morgan was everything they weren't.

He was abrasive; he was discriminative; he was repetitive and above all he was a self-righteous bastard. The mans favourite phrase was "pull your finger out" because he was the most eloquent man in the world. He only got along with you if you were a) athletically inclined (and even then it had to be Gaelic or hurling) or b) really really good at history.

I was, as it happens, neither of those things. Here's a list of things I was in his class: 1. Sarcastic 2. Able to see his massive gaps in knowledge when it came to the English language 3. Sat next to someone who was infinitely better at the subject than I was 4. Late to his Thursday morning classes because I kept having to wait for the coffee machine to heat up.

I couldn't start my day without 2 shots of espresso. I just couldn't function in any way. So whenever Thursday rolled around I would walk to class sipping at too much caffeine and walk into his classroom, mutter "sorry I'm late" and sit down. "Why were you late?" he would ask in his virtually indecipherable coalisland growl. To which I would casually reply "I had to get my coffee, sir". For some reason he never seemed to think of this as a viable reason for being late.

No it seemed he and I were never destined to get along. There were few others who shared my opinion of him though. Most of my friends were sporty and viewed Colm as some sort of God in trousers that were far to tight, a shirt that was vaguely translucent and, more often than not, shoes that didn't match. We didn't get on to the extent that whenever he even vaguely displeased me, I would steal from him.

Yup

At the back of his room there were all sorts of goodies. There were file pads and poly pockets and such but the cream of the crop was stacks upon stacks of bottles of water. That year the school had been selling this over priced water and giving the money to charity. Eventually Morgan stopped selling it and the water just lay there, slowly beginning to stagnate. And so, when I felt displeased with him (or thirsty) I would walk into his room when no one was around and take a bottle or two, sometimes a file pad for when I was running low, a spare pen if it was handy.

I should let you know that this was wildly out of character for me. Sure I'll pick up discarded things, lost pens, pennies on the ground, anything free. But I wasn't one to steal. The closest I came to stealing anything in my life was when I was 8 years old and I took a penny chew from a pick-and-mix stand. Morgan just inspired such massive amounts of loathing that I had to take things that were his and make them mine.

I will never in my life regret those actions. He was the first person to tell me I had an attitude problem. I didn't have an attitude problem. I just hated him. He had to pay.

I almost ended this post on that last sentence. But then I realised it sounded vaguely murdery and blood vengeancey, so I'll end it with an evaluation of myself.

Okay, yes, I have a problem with authority. I am a cynical, sarcastic, judgemental ass hole. But I'm also a pleasant guy, good conversation, mildly funny if the stars align and Saturn's moon in closest to the sun and a lamb is sacrificed to the great god Ra on the summer Solstice. I'm quick to help people, I can turn a clever phrase now and again.

It's just Colm Fucking Morgan...