The Most Average Man in the World
There once was a man, very sought after, who was the most average person that ever existed. His facial features were indefinable and anonymous; if one were to describe him, they’d be describing hundreds of very similar men. His life story read out like the script of so many others that it was unremarkable in every way, and there was not one part that wasn’t the same as many others. He had hobbies, likes, dislikes, experiences and notions, but not one was unique to him, and they always represented the most common hobbies, likes, dislikes, experiences and notions of the general populace.
Perhaps a different person would’ve tried to escape this state. After all, while the desire to belong to a group is strong, the desire to stand out can be even stronger, and the realization that there is not one aspect of yourself that sets you apart from everyone else would encourage anyone to do something different, to attempt to be, in some way, not just another one, to not be average. But this man did not seek that; instead, he capitalized on his averageness.
Companies of all kinds lined up to his door to sell him products, show him TV pilots, ask him his opinion on things. Because all about him was so average and every facet of him simply reflected his deep mundaneness, it was assumed, often correctly, that what appealed to him would appeal to the public opinion, and what he did not like would not have success. He got discounts to eat at restaurants and got to try new fast food varieties before anyone else, all in the interest of finding out what the masses were willing to buy. His approval or not would determine the fall line-ups of major cable companies, and politicians pandered to him, as they knew that what he thought closely reflected the results of any opinion poll they could take. Talk shows had him on speed-dial, and interviewed him after tragedy or event. This man came to become the face of the nation, and had many privileges.
Of course, all of this came at a price. Because his success relied on his inability to formulate a thought that millions of others wouldn’t agree with, this man was forced to avoid any activity or experience that might color his judgment and make him lose his magic touch. He also had to keep an eye on the actual general opinion, and conform to it as much as possible. Little by little, he’d learned to shave off those parts of himself that might’ve made him stand out, becoming as much as possible a faceless, mediocre everyman. He had sacrificed his individuality for a few extra burgers and preview screenings of upcoming movies, but he didn’t mind: the instinct to rise above the mass was naturally weak in him, and it was just a matter of silencing it when he was asked what his opinion was on contentious issues.
But, as weak as it was, it existed; and, as much as he tried to ignore it, it remained. Even though he was always very careful about what he was supposed to think, there were nuggets of thought, here and there, that were fully his own, and, at one point, one of them emerged. It happened at the tasting of a new kind of sandwich wrap, where he was supposed to choose between a series of flavors which would be the most commercially viable. He already knew which ones he was “supposed” to like, but, despite his best efforts, he could not help to express some appreciation for a particular sandwich that had an unusual spice as its main ingredient. It was very surprising for the company to receive that result, as it had been thought as a foregone conclusion that the spice wouldn’t be liked, but the average man had never been wrong before, and, though with some hesitation, the sandwich was shipped. It was not successful; but it was not a total bust either. It performed like most other products from the same company, being neither a big seller nor a waste of money. The reputation of the average man was intact.
However, he realized from this incident that he could get away with deviating from the mean. Though he had abhorred anything that could potentially be disliked or cause controversy, this had shown him that the average was in fact far more multifaceted than he imagined. There was one opinion that dominated and to which he conformed, but there was space for others as well. The true average, he’d discovered, was an abstraction, but the system he’d created with the companies relied on a false supremacy of the median. He’d made himself a speaker for a demographic that did not really exist, and had succeeded by playing it safe up to this point.
He set out to exploit this. He kept his realization quiet, and kept on pretending to be the most average man. But instead of researching what the public desired and sticking to that, he then began injecting the opinions and thoughts that he’d spent so long concealing. Maybe it was by declaring that a sidekick in a movie was annoying, or deciding that a condiment was good, when in fact most of the public would’ve disagreed with him. Slowly, all others adapted to his tastes; the companies offered goods and services they believed that the public would appreciate, and the public did not oppose this because they had the assurance that the most average man enjoyed them. It happened so gradually that it was not distinguishable from the normal cultural shift that happens with the times. Many articles were written about how the zeitgeist was changing, not realizing that it was in fact the doing of a single person. Films, foods, political opinions, stances on everything from religion to abortion, everyone’s opinion became closer and closer to that of the average man.
And so it became that he was the veritable king of his world. His true desires, hidden for years in favor of what the public would more certainly like, were now the yardstick that was used to determine what was fashionable, profitable, acceptable. The average man had truly become as such.
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