Max Made The List

I keep two lists – one is entitled ” Moderate Desires ” and one is ” Untouchables “. They correspond to a ” Bucket List ” and a ” F***it List “. I edit them occasionally and this week I added Max.

Max is henceforth an Untouchable, which is quite a humorous thought considering from whence he has come. He would probably not be pleased to hear it, as his caste was possibly somewhat higher back in his Old Country.

My episode with him in the bank where he works has finally convinced me that dealing with his form of rigid and demanding official behaviour is dangerous for my health – if I avoid all contact with him I will feel better. But like any unpleasant experience, there is a seed of self-improvement there. I can benefit from it.

In the future I will strive to make sure that I am less pedantic to others – if they are in need or concerned about something, I will listen to them and not compel them to listen to me. I will not threaten them with bureaucracy to force them to obey me. I will be kind, without  acting like an Indian traffic cop with a badge and a stick.

I’m not sure I can honestly thank Max for pushing my button so thoroughly, but I shall make sure that it is not within his reach in the future.

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Do You Go To Church?

…asked the Muslim social worker of the old Jew in his living room, as she filled out a form for aged care assistance…

Really one of the oddest exchanges that I have had recently. The form seems to have the logo and imprimatur of the Australian federal government in a special department for the aged, and a logo from another organization that may offer help. In this case the help they offered seems to be a booklet and a note that my goal is to get my injured leg back to good health.

From the church question, I am assuming it is a pious hope…

As no more was done all week, at my latest visit to the physician, he short circuited the whole departmental rigmarole by ringing up the local chemist to see if they sold pressure bandages. They did, I called in and bought one, and pulled it on myself. We’ll be checking in a week to see that healing is progressing.

In the meantime I will keep my phone on and my ears open for the assistance that the bureaucratic department will offer. But I shall not hold my breath. Nor expend it singing hymns, for that matter…

Getting Permission To Have Fun

dsc_6829I have long nursed a dislike of government. Note that I am not being specific about which government or where…I am prepared to be suspicious of ’em all. Not because of any conspiracies or bad management …but because the basic premise of them all seems to be ” No “. To that single word you can append any number of others; ” money “, ” permission “, ” interest “, or ” fun “. It might be different in Antarctica or on the moon, but around here it is pretty much all the same.

You can’t sail toy boats in the parks, fly toy airplanes on the school oval, fly drones above the tourist attractions, etc. You can’t build big sheds in some shires, you can’t build big houses in others. You can’t go to some bush areas and you certainly can’t shoot an old muzzle-loading flintlock rifle out in the bare desert. After all, this is only a very tiny little bare restricted state the size of Europe…

You are sometimes allowed to apply for permission to speak to officials…and then you can ask for permission to have fun. They encourage this as it gives them an opportunity to charge a fee for dispensing permission – or refusing it if they feel like it. It can be a matter of some anxiety on their part whether to go for the fee first or wait for a fine.

The surprising thing about this all is that it is generally accompanied by broad and bland advertisement about how our state is the greatest playground in the world and how the government is promoting our best interests. But don’t ask to have fun.

Tiny Hint: Choose an activity that they cannot regulate. Then flaunt it. You’re reading one of them now…