I don’t know what they say behind my back, because I’m not there, and they never tell me.
My guess is that I am described as “eccentric”, which word has a bad rap, but in my case is used correctly.
Think of eccentric as ex-centric or off-centre; think of a bell-curve, and place me off to one end, preferably the brilliant end.
I am off-centre; I think differently.
I think differently about Marketing, Sales, Computers.
What most people call “trash” or “garbage” or “rubbish” I call “a re-usable (not recyclable) resource”.
What most people call “dirt” I call soil, and what most people call “soil” I think of as worm castings.
Here’s what’s strange: all my colleagues, fellow-entrepreneurs, are eccentric by definition; each one of them is off-centre. They have chosen, or been forced into a way of life that does NOT involve punching a figurative time-clock from 9 to 5.
Each one of my colleagues is finding a niche, an empty niche, which they can fill.
Each one of us is driven by the urge or need to determine what we do best that no one else is doing, and to establish ourselves in that small area before anyone else tumbles to it.
Sing the praise of The Eccentric Mr. Greaves, and if you’ve ever had breakfast, lunch or dinner with me at The Montreal Deli , pat yourself on the back.
You are one of my extra-ordinary crowd of fellows at the far end of the bell curve.