Kate Stewart: Stereotype cops ire over policy

kate stewart.19 July 2012 Wanganui Chronicle Photograph by Stuart Munro

STEREOTYPES; often we are told to avoid them because they can be unfair but the truth is a stereotype becomes a stereotype because most of the time it is actually grounded in fact, whether we want to admit it or not.

I recently watched a fascinating documentary about a man in England, whose job it was to dispel stereotypes, particularly racial ones, he voluntarily tendered his resignation when all research showed that nine times out of 10 the stereotype in question was factually correct.

Panic not, I'm steering well clear of any racial issues but I will be using my own form of stereotype to illustrate a point. I apologise in advance if it offends anyone and remind you that this is an opinion piece.

Let me paint you a picture.

He's a small man, mid- to late-40s, ordinary, in fact almost forgettable. Dresses in browns and greys. The sort who wears knee length socks with his sandals.

If he's married, and it's a big if, his wife rules him with a iron fist. He's the "yes, dear" type. He's more likely to still be living at home with his widowed mother.

Every day is the same, rooted in routine, he sits in the same seat of the same train twice a day as he goes to and from his job in Wellington.

He brings a cut lunch and has his "smoko" breaks at 10am and 3pm. Not five past or five to, 10 and 3 on the dot.

He's only had the one employer where he has slowly worked his way up the ranks, celebrating each promotion in style with a shandy. When he really wants to let his thinning hair down, he breaks out the sherry.

He arrives home, has dinner in the lounge on a tray table with mother and more than likely still has the same candlewick bedspread on the single bed, that he had as a boy. His bookshelves continue to house the volumes of Biggles he read as a child.

The only female visitor he gets in there is his mother, who apart from changing his sheets once a week, pops in each night with his hot water bottle.

Who is this man, to me?

He's the uptight, officious civil servant, whose job it is to write absolutely pointless policy, designed to deliberately make my life as difficult as possible and for no other reason than just because he can.

Suffering a textbook case of SMS (small man's syndrome), this is the only way he is able to assert any authority.

This is the guy who devised the policy that birth certificates now have an expiration date. But it appears he didn't stop there.

As many of you know I recently spent nearly $100 obtaining new birth certificates for myself and the clones, having been informed that the ones I had were too old.

I wanted to ensure they had the necessary paperwork to apply for student loans, drivers licences and the like, only to find out, at a Work and Income appointment this week, these new birth certificates are too new to be used as a form of identification.

Policy says they must be at least two years old. Too old, too new, you just can't win with these bloody idiots.

Never mind a freaking wine cellar, it now appears you need a document cellar. Somewhere special, where those documents can age and mature over time until government policy deems them safe for public use.

Meanwhile, I'm left with close to $200 worth of birth certificates that are pretty much worthless, a two-year wait and thanks to my stereotypical government employee, no bloody policy that offers a solution for the interim.

This kind of crap can't be allowed to continue. It's a classic example of the left hand having no idea what the right hand is doing.

Thanks for nothing, little man, may you choke on your cup-a-soup.

Kate Stewart is a politically incorrect columnist of no repute. She does welcome your feedback - investik8@gmail.com