Inadvertently Sticking it to Big Brother

It is very safe to say I'm a rule follower. I don't go where I'm not supposed to and I fill forms out as perfectly as humanly possible. I've come a long way in realizing which rules are pointless and realistic so I don't follow all of them. But when I do chose to follow the rule, I do it fervently.

So the Census. Is it a rule? No. But it is government mandated participation. So I classify it as a rule. I was starting to get very excited about its arrival. Didn't you know the Census can give your community money for education? (I call malarkey. But a girl can dream.) I knew the form was coming thanks to all the radio and television commercials, ads for Census jobs and the helpful (totally wasteful) letter from Uncle Sam reminding me that a Census form was coming. So I looked for it. And looked for it. And never got it. I was kind of miffed. Especially since I got a nasty postcard reminding me that it is a federal requirement to fill out the damn thing. So I grabbed a generic one at the YMCA and Mike filled it out and I mailed it.

Fast-forward three days. I get my "second" personalized and bar-coded Census form. It told me, from its own mouth, that if I didn't fill it out a Census representative was going to get all up in my grill. I thought, my grill doesn't need all-gettin'-up-in so I filled out a second Census form and mailed it. I just couldn't be bothered to deal with a Census person who I'm sure is really very nice and just trying to make an honest living. But fuck that guy.

Did I just ruin everything or did I just get my community that much more education moolah? I'm going to say more moolah. Think about it, one of the neighborhoods down the street from me has the worst return rate in all of America. I have to make up for their lack of participation. I should be thanked by the Census. Thanked profusely with a New York teaching position created just for Mike. Down the street. That will never go away.