When I was in 9th grade, my friend Miguel spent a whole year calling me “Napoleon” around the school.
In those days, Miguel wasn’t a great student but quite the opposite; he would take any possible chance to skip class, talk to girls, and get in trouble. However, he must have been brushing up on his history lessons because not many of our classmates knew who Napoleon was (or why the nickname kinda suited me).
Talking about Napoleon, did you know that there were actually 3 Napoleons who ruled over the French Empire at different times? There was Napoleon Bonaparte, also known as Napoleon I who is the short guy we all know; Napoleon François Joseph Charles Bonaparte (son of Napoleon I), and Charles-Louis Napoleon Bonaparte (nephew of Napoleon I) who became the first president of France and also its last monarch.
Anyway, let’s get back to my story that is far more relevant than French history.
You won’t be surprised to know that I have always been a “short king” with a bossy attitude. At some point in my adolescence, I started to get deeply frustrated with people who couldn’t take initiative or make decisions. In response, I would assume control of those situations until someone relatively competent came forward.
Teenagers in general avoid responsibilities like a pile of dirty dishes hence most of them took the backseat instead of coming forward; it seemed they were happy to be led. On the other hand, I got used to leading.
University was more or less of a similar experience, yet my friends were less original than Miguel when they chose a nickname for me. Instead of Napoleon, some started calling me “dad”.
(It must be true that you tend to become less creative with age).
Later, at work, people hid under desks and inside toilet cubicles to avoid responsibility. As it turns out, most adults despise responsibility as much as teenagers do.
At this point in my life, I try not to judge people who take the backseat. After all, life is stressful enough without the added pressure of leading a team to meet a sadistic deadline just so the CEO can take home another bonus.
But what about me? Why did I seek to lead instead of enjoying the comforts of being led?
Maybe Miguel was right - this could be Napoleon complex.
Napoleon complex (noun)
A domineering or aggressive attitude perceived as a form of overcompensation for being physically small or short.
Napoleon complex (also known as small man syndrome) is a derogatory psychological stereotype. Many studies have demonstrated that taller men enjoy several advantages over short men, such as a higher social standing in the workplace. Some findings suggest that “someone who is 6 feet tall earns, on average, nearly $166,000 more during a 30-year career than someone who is 5 feet 5 inches - even when controlling for gender, age and weight” (APA, 2004).
Naturally, short men would rebel and retaliate against this injustice, wouldn’t you?
Maybe my father is a bit of a Napoleon too: short, grumpy and with a slight tendency towards aggressive attitudes. From all things, he chose to be a military man, a profession where you control and abuse others (emotionally and physically) in the name of the law. My mum used to say he “ran the house like the barracks” and not in a good way.
Was he retaliating? Perhaps.
It’s fascinating to think how our appearance can condition our interactions with the outside world, especially when we are young, our identity is only starting to take shape and we lack self-awareness.
From my childhood, I distinctly remember the feeling of being underestimated due to my height. People would “look down” on me (pun intended) and I would go above and beyond in physical and intellectual contests to prove they were wrong.
Even today, one of my greatest triggers is to hear someone telling me “I bet you cannot do that because of X”.
BITCH. WATCH. ME. DO. IT.
This is not by any means a healthy approach to life. Like the overweight kid who was fat-shamed and who grew up to be a fitness bro, doing things to prove others wrong can become a recipe for a very unfulfilling life. If anything, we should prove ourselves to be right, regardless of what others assume we can or cannot do.
Perhaps I became bossy to obtain petty revenge against the outside world that belittled me on so many occasions. As if saying “Hey, you have to take me seriously now because I am in charge.” Needless to say that it always ended up being an unrewarding affair.
I am now cured (sort of) so you won’t see me bossing people around. Ironically, since I hate to be bossed around, I have become more understanding and empathetic of what it feels like to be on the other side. You will even find me taking the backseat every now and then, assuming that the person in charge is not an arse.
But please, I beg you, do not bet against me on something because I might end up doing something stupid, dangerous (or both) just to prove you wrong.
So what did you lack growing up? Attention? Care? Support? Encouragement? A playful childhood? Chances are that many of your choices and behaviours as a young adult (or beyond) were an attempt to fill those gaps. Hopefully, you are now aware of that and can make future decisions based on what your present self needs, and not what you needed 20 years ago.
Oh, and for the record, Miguel and I used to be about the same height in 9th grade. In hindsight, I think he was also bothered by his height because he suddenly got really into exercising and basketball. Fortunately for him, he was rewarded with an overdue growth spurt some years later.
That’s it for this week, folks. I will elegantly slide into your inbox next Wednesday.
In the meantime, please help yourself to these marvellous pieces of modern literature:
Mean Regards,
C.