I used to be quite the rule follower. Authority freaked me out, even when imagined. I can't tell you how many times I dragged my infectious butt to a 8:00 class in thirty degree weather in the face of an intolerant attendance policy (A lot, because I had a lot of colds in college. Evidently your immune system needs more than caffeine and refined carbohydrates to function optimally). It served me well throughout K-12 and undergrad. Grad school pretty much beat it out of me, especially the hurricane chasing. I barely recognized the person who argued with an army commander for forty-five minutes on the phone until he gave me the gate code to an abandoned air field in North Carolina (you didn't see this) as me. And now that I'm on the other side I can pretty much be relied on to return library books late, eat donuts at the store before paying, and not take my cart all the way back to the cart corral.
Today I had to go to the machine shop at my old school for a tour. Ten years ago, I put on my hiking boots, jeans, pony tail, and safety badge before I even left my house on the way to this place. Today? Sandals and a skirt. And I don't remember anything from the gory safety video we had to watch as part of our training. I think someone got his arm cut off by a lathe? Possibly because he was wearing sandals and didn't have his hair pulled back?
I'm just glad they didn't call the cops.