The Blog of mamapolo

     Today was my first day at work since July 18. I work for a state bureaucracy, it doesn't matter which one, they're all the same.

     I read once that there may be a legitimate reason for the creation of some bureaucracies - but once they exist, their primary purpose is to continue to exist. That is not only true of the bureaucracy as a whole, but of each individual component.

     This means that if a bureaucracy has a "Policy Development" unit (and they all have), in order for that unit to justify its existence, it must continually produce, alter, tweak policy. Otherwise, someday SOMEONE will wake up and say, "Hey! The policy unit hasn't created or changed any policy in months. We must not need them anymore."

          This is why all bureaucracies issue new policies or modify old ones continually. It has nothing to do with fairness or efficiency or economical operation. It has to do with self-perpetuation.

         Moreover, each Bureaucratic Department cherishes one fond hope - that they may, in the course of continuing to exist, create an offshoot department, which falls under their purview and hence increases their power and their budget. And, if the stars are in alignment and tax revenues are good, this propagation of departments will continue until the cows come home (may they stay out in the fields forever!).

     I always knew that, but as I slogged through several hundred emails today that were received during my absence, it was once more made clear to me.

     Found myself thinking about the late George Carlin's riff about the Catholic Church changing things around - "This law is eternal, except for next Tuesday." I have nothing against the Catholic Church other than the obvious - that once they became a bureaucracy (along with every other organized church, borough council and library board) they stopped worrying about right/wrong, sense/nonsense and started worrying about how to continue existing. Please understand, this has nothing to do with matters of faith, in which I deeply believe. It has to do with bureaucracy.

     Where I work, we determine eligibility and authorize literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in benefits a year, each of us. Yet we cannot be trusted to take breaks when it is most logical in our workday. My supervisor flagged me as I was returning from afternoon break. This is the first time I've taken a flex-shift with an hour lunch, because I will come home to check on my husband each day, make sure he eats properly, he hasn't fallen, Britney Spears has not appeared on our doorstep to steal my love.

     My sup said, "Um, if you take an hour lunch, you are automatically assigned to second break (2:45 to 3:00 instead of 2:30 to 2:45, the one I, rebel that I am, had taken.)

     I said, "Sorry, I didn't know." I thought, "Are you kidding me? This matters to somebody? This matters to you?"

    It doesn't, really, matter to him. But after the First Great Bureaucratic Truth (we must, we must, we must continue to exist) comes the Second Great Bureaucratic Truth. In order for me, myself, personally, to continue to exist here, the wisest course is, now and forever more, attract no attention.

     This means: Question no ruling, rock no boats, ruffle no feathers. Break no rules. Speak when spoken to, do what you're told, do only what you're told. And beyond all else, keep control.

     My superiors must legislate our breaks because if they don't, some malcontent will eventually complain. "S... took 17 minutes for break instead of 15. I only get 15 minutes. It's not fair..."

     So, in order to ensure that everybody takes only 15 minute breaks, they have sliced two fifteen minute breaks out of the morning and two out of the afternoon, and assigned each of us to first or second break. It matters not if a flood of walk-in customers appears, needing our attention. We can go to break late, but only if we track down a supervisor, someone with credibility and power, who can later verify that we informed them we were taking a late break and we are not merely dawdling longer than appropriate. 

     It's just silly. It's not earth-shaking and will have no impact on the grand eternal plan. It's just silly. 

     We are constantly admonished to behave professionally, to behave as though we were civilized, sensible, caring agents of social change. But if we take the wrong break we get half-heartedly yelled at. Silly.

     Once I had to do a number of identical referrals for my clients, and of course, in a bureaucracy, this represents a sheaf of paperwork. Because my handwriting is poor and illegible, I decided as a favor to our clerical department to type the information into a template, print them out and give the eight referrals to clerical for typing on letterhead, saving them from having to decipher my chicken-scratching.

     I got called into a supervisor conference, and this was the reason. "You can't do that. My 'girls' will think it's already done and put it in the mail."

     I protested, "But it's not on letterhead, and besides, when you assign the work, can't you just TELL them it's not done?"

     No, they could not do that. And so I went back to my desk, drew lines through my typed addresses, financial and non-financial eligibility information, and next to the crossed-out typed text I hand-wrote the same information.

     The referrals then went through without a hitch.

     Maybe I'm stupid. I don't get it.

     I was highly amused at a couple of emails I found in my saturated inbox today.

     1. Baring unforeseen developments...once they're bared, they won't be unforeseen anymore, will they?

     2. If you do not receive this email, please notify me at once. ... I don't know what to say.

     3. Please disregard the attachment sent below...so, couldn't you, like, just not send it?

      And finally, I was entranced to see that on a new version of an application for seasonal benefits, my favorite question was still there, in the position that strikes me funny every time I review an application. 

     The reason for this question is because I, at least, and probably others in our state, pointed out that this particular application boasted Questions 1-5 and Questions 7-14, but, hey!, no question 6.

     The following year, this was corrected. There was and is a Question 6. It asks (in the 6th position, remember): "Do you understand English? If not, what language DO you understand?

     Is this great, or what? Don't you want to know how, if I don't understand English, I made it to Question 6? And if I don't understand English, how will I understand what you're asking me? 

     There's another great question on another application. "Are you, or is anyone in your household, a fleeing felon?" Like I'm going to tell you.

     Bureaucracy at its fuzzy best.