You have to know when to fold them

Sometimes you have to rebel against bureaucracy and sometimes it is just better to keep your mouth shut and just THINK the rebellion. It’s knowing the difference that is sometimes my problem. Sometimes the smart alec, fly by the seat of the pants girl in me just escapes. That girl nearly always gets into trouble! Yes, I know that with age comes maturity, doesn’t it? Well, not always I am sad to advise. Sometimes it is just too much of an opportunity left open, or you just get too peeved by the other person and you have to let fly. That often results in what I call an oops moment.

I am reminded of the words of the song The Boxer by Kenny Rogers:
You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
Know when to run

My friend Lulu reminded me of this today when I read her blog.

Several years ago I was at the Blood Bank going through the interview before donating blood.

Himself had been a blood donor for ever and I decided that I should join the club.

I had already filled in the four page form and had made it to the interview. The interviewer goes through each question, asking some further questions every now and then to clarify the situation. No problems. Then we get to the section regarding overseas travel. I understand the reasons for the questions and had answered them accurately. It was at this stage that the interviewer first made the comment that I travelled a lot. Yes, I enjoyed travelling and did so as often as was possible I told her. But you really travel a lot. Yes, and I have listed on the form all the details. But that is really a lot of travel. Well, not really, but we enjoy travel. At this stage my voice was getting a little terse. I was ready to move on from this question, get to the donating bit and get back to work (so I could afford to travel again perhaps?). But no, she had got stuck in the groove, like an old vinyl record or a scratched CD.

That seat of the pants girl was ready for a few words. Somehow that time I kept quiet; and didn’t tell her that I needed to do a few drug courier runs every now and then to keep my hand in!

I think that would have resulted in one of those cryptic codes in the margin that I imagine immigration staff put on the immigration and customs form (when you arrive in the country) that gives the heads up to the next person which row you need to be cleared through. And my career as a blood donor would be over, before it started, or at the very least, postponed!

Interviewers, I know form generators put little boxes on forms for people to tick or cross or whatever; but YOUR JOB is to read them, and think outside the square, not get boxed in it yourself.