This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about how things work—or more accurately, how they don’t work. Why is it no longer enough to actually know something—you also have to prove you learned it in the “right” way? I touched on this last Sunday, but today I want to share a bit more about myself. Why is a CV with titles and academic credits valued more than actual competence?
Isn’t it ironic that the job market cries out for people who can think outside the box—but at the same time demands that you first prove you fit inside it?
The great paradox is that every theory we teach today once started as someone’s new idea. It didn’t come from a textbook—it came from people who dared to think freely. And yet we’ve built a system where those who think outside the box rarely get a seat at the table.
We talk about an inclusive society, but what does that mean if the doors are only open to those who fit the A4 mold?
I’m not against education. On the contrary—I recognize how important it is for most people. And considering how much time I’ve had to spend learning things along the way—often just to confirm what I already knew—a formal title would probably have been a quicker, easier path to credibility.
But education doesn’t work for everyone. Yet it’s become the only way to gain recognition in today’s job market: diplomas, degrees, certifications. And it almost seems like it’s gotten worse in recent years. There’s a shortage of workers, yet even people with advanced degrees are being left out. And for those of us who learn differently, and who’ve built skills through practice—not curriculum—it’s even harder. Without the right stamp on paper, we rarely qualify for more than one percent of available jobs.
My Path—Or Lack of One
I tried. I really did. After secondary school, I considered a year abroad in the U.S. I passed interviews and qualifications, was even assigned a host family—but finances got in the way.
Instead, I started general academic studies, the first step toward university eligibility. When I reached the second year, I chose to repeat the first to improve my grades. Totally pointless. I ended up using the original transcript anyway, because radio and TV were taking up my time—not the curriculum.
I lasted until Christmas in year two. Subjects like Norwegian and German drained my motivation. I’ve benefitted from German, yes. But Hamsun? Never has anyone asked me about anything we were forced to slog through back then.
That fall, I tried mechanical studies. Got great grades—but failed. Not because I didn’t understand the material, but because I had too many absences. My teacher asked me to stick it out for the diploma. But when he said, “You’ve already passed, you just have to show up,” it became crystal clear: the system cares more about attendance limits than actual knowledge.
And that’s when I lost faith. Not in myself—but in the system. I had learned what I needed. So instead, I spent my time doing what I loved: creating. Radio. TV. I didn’t need that diploma—because I knew I could do it if I wanted to. And that was enough for me.
My Freedom Diploma
I developed skills, built a career, delivered results. I achieved the goals I set for myself as a teen—traveled, bought a home, a car, and had money to spare. And when I finally bought the dream car I’d been working toward since I was 14, a Porsche 911, it felt like my diploma. My trade certificate. My PhD—all in one.
The first 911 was my Sunday car. I sold it after two years. I thought I had lived the dream. But a year later, the longing returned. That’s when I realized I had just done what one “should” do—take it out on sunny days and let it shine in the driveway.
So I bought a new one. And this time, I used it. Every day. All year. It was my daily driver. I drove more Porsche in four years than many owners do in twenty. It was impractical. It cost a fortune. It made no financial or rational sense. But it was worth it—because I lived the dream. My way.
When Making the Right Choice Punishes You
When the British company I worked for shut down, I took a well-deserved break. For the first time, I paused to find a new direction—and I was well on my way. In conversations, ready for the next job. But then my mom—who had been a pillar in my life, more of a best friend than a mother—suddenly became ill.
For the first time in my life, I chose to put my career aside for someone else. I had always prioritized work and ambition. Now it was her turn. And it felt right. A choice I’ll never regret—because shortly after, she was gone. Only 67.
Ironically, it was when I finally prioritized something more important than myself—and had more to offer than ever—that my career fell apart. Not because I lacked skills. But because I’d been away too long.
And suddenly, nothing I had accomplished meant anything. Not because I couldn’t do the job—but because I didn’t have the paperwork. The job market doesn’t care about loyalty, compassion, or humanity. It cares about gaps in your CV. That you’re nearing 50. And that you lack formal education.
So maybe it’s better to build something of my own. Use that energy to create something new.
And let them one day read in the paper what one conversation—and an eye for more than a CV—could have led to.
This one hit me hard when I started reflecting on school and the logic of working life. (Click play. And listen.)
Who Wrote the Books First?
Education is, at its core, a collection of knowledge. People before us tried, failed, and came to conclusions. Those conclusions were written down, systematized, and taught to the next generation. That’s how we build on what we already know.
- The first doctor didn’t have a medical degree.
- The first engineer didn’t have an engineering diploma.
- The first psychologist didn’t study psychology.
Someone had to figure it out before it became a subject.
So why is it so hard for today’s job market to recognize people who still learn this way? Those who haven’t followed the academic path but who have built real skills?
Our system rewards those who learn in the right way—but not necessarily those who actually know something. That’s a paradox.oks.
We Love Creatives—But Only If They Have the Right Title
The job market loves innovation. Every company talks about thinking outside the box.
But at the same time, you’re expected to prove you fit in the box first.
To get a job, you need an academic background—but once you’re in, they want someone who challenges the norm. It’s contradictory.
“Yes, we see you have an education—but can you think as if you didn’t?” — Can you even do that?
Often not. Because education doesn’t just teach you what to know—it teaches you how to think. It gives you theories to understand the world, but also frames your understanding. Once something is defined as “the right way,” it becomes harder to see alternatives.
Which leads us to another question:
Do we want knowledge—or just confirmation that the knowledge comes from an approved source?
You’re expected to think outside the box—but only after you’ve passed the test that proves you think inside it.
When Education Becomes a Thought-Box
I have nothing against highly educated people. I admire those who’ve invested time and effort into specialization. But I’ve also seen how education can become a limitation.
Because once you’ve been taught that this is how the world works, it becomes harder to question whether it actually does.
If you’re taught a solution is best practice, you’ll instinctively trust it—even if an outsider might have found something better.
That’s why we often see innovation come from outside the established systems. Because those who aren’t part of the system are the ones most likely to see its flaws.
So what do we do about it?
We Need Another Way In
I’m not saying we should abolish education. But I am saying we need an alternative path for those who learn through experience, practice, and problem-solving.
Think about it:
- If you have a degree in a subject, you can get a job—even if you’ve never applied the knowledge in practice.
- If you’ve worked in a field for 20 years but don’t have a diploma, you rarely get the chance to show what you can do.
- If you learn through experience, there’s virtually no way into most professions.
We talk a lot about lifelong learning, but the truth is that learning outside academia is rarely valued. It’s not the knowledge that counts—it’s where you got it from. And that’s what we need to change.den verdsettes. Det er ikke selve kunnskapen som teller – det er hvor du har fått den fra. Og det er det jeg mener vi må gjøre noe med.
But Let Me Add Some Nuance
This isn’t necessarily about the experts—those who’ve spent 20 years in a field and become the best at it. Many of them do get recognized, precisely because their value is easy to prove.
The challenge may be even bigger for those of us who’ve gone broad—but also deep. We’ve worked across disciplines—sales, marketing, strategy, development—but can’t point to one specific title. We’ve been the connectors, the bridge-builders, the problem-solvers across teams, and therefore don’t look as impressive on paper.
We may not be the expert in one field—but we’ve touched many. Maybe not the top salesperson, developer, marketer, project manager, HR advisor, or executive—but we understand how things connect. We’ve seen the whole customer journey, led people without leadership courses, written code without being developers, resolved conflicts without HR degrees, and crafted messages that hit the mark—without a marketing degree. We’ve connected processes, seen the big picture, and been the ones who fill the gaps between specialists. We build bridges, see systems, spot patterns, and know when something works—and why.
And it’s exactly this rare combination that makes us valuable. The kind that fits into any role, can step in when the marketer’s sick, when the front desk is at the dentist, when the salesperson is busy or support is overwhelmed. The problem is that the system rarely sees it—because it doesn’t have a label.
Conclusion: Stop Wasting Talent
We talk a lot about lifelong learning and the value of experience, yet we still judge people by titles and academic credits. Isn’t that strange? We know knowledge can come from many sources, yet we’ve built a system that insists it must come from one specific place to be worth anything.
Maybe it’s time to think differently? Because if we truly want innovation, adaptation, and progress—why are we so afraid of those who didn’t learn the “right” way?
The most ironic part? Companies seek people who think outside the box and solve challenges—but first, you need to present a piece of paper proving you can think inside the box. Just to be asked the classic interview question:
“So, can you think outside the box?”
And as if that wasn’t enough, you’re often asked to take tests—rarely related to the actual job. Tests claiming to measure potential and problem-solving ability, but which often exclude exactly those who think differently. Some of the most creative, solution-oriented, and experienced candidates fail—not because they lack ability, but because they think differently than the test expects.
Isn’t it fascinating that you constantly have to think inside the box just to prove you can think outside it?
And if it’s about people—about psychology, experience, curiosity, results, and new ideas—is it really education we’re talking about?
Or is it something much bigger? That’s what I’ll explore in Sunday’s article—on why psychology shows up so often in my writing.
