The tought of suicide is a great comfort:
it's a good way of getting through many a bad night.
-Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche-
CHEERS!
I think I'll change all my headings and links to more intriguing and provoking. It's just such a good way to get people listening. Hmm... I wish they would get the point, too. Anyway, what do you think? I've already had moderate success by using terrorists and pedofiles to make a point in my attempt to talk about non-judgement and understanding human beings. (Wen't down really well with certain people, I wish they just would get the point...) So, I thought I'll experiment with other good topics, such as suicide, rape, masturbation, communist lover, incest, beating the wife up for fun and professional athletes talking about the olympic spirit while wearing child-labour produced fashion gear and enjoying sponsor payments from companies that happily exploit the youngest, hungriest, poorest and most abused children in the factories of Bangladesh, Burma, China or any other country that will let it happen. Phoaa. The last one was a bit long.
I can't give you any names of any companies. Not because it's a secret, but because I've done no research on this issue and I'm just stirring you up. It's still a very important topic, as I'm pretty sure that you don't give a rat's ass about who made your running shoes, as long as you got them cheap. Yeah?
Let me ask you: What good did you do to the world today? I mean, were you any good to the world, or would the world be the same - even better - without you? Thought provoking? Good. (Mind you, I love thinking and thought provoking, but I'm not really much of an action man myself. But you never know... one obtains courage with age.)
SUICIDE
It appears to me today, that we - as a society - have commited an intellectual suicide, given up our ability, will and freedom to use our own brains for anything but following "the rules".
I went to a hardware shop (K Rauta)and bought a bunch of stuff, about 200 bucks worth. At the check out, all was well until I pulled out my Visa card and the lady saw this:
Our business relationship ended right then and there. "You must have a signature behind the card" the lady said. I had already pulled out my ID to avoid any hassles. "No, I can't sell you anything with this card, because you don't have signature on it." She said, in a more frustrated voice. She had no interest in my ID, other than type in the last four digits of my Finnish ID number. You see, that was a rule too, to put in those four digits, so that part of the rule was now fulfilled. "But I've got my ID here" I said and pulled out some more cards from my wallet, the Australian drivers license, press card, national health card etc. But nothing was enough for this rule-abiding bitch. You see, there was no signature behind the card, and the bank RULES say that customer will have their signature behind the card.
A second person came in and told me the same. The bank sets the rules, you know. The card must have a signature. "But anyone can fake a signature!", I said. If my card gets stolen and I don't happen to notice it, it will be used in no time, with a blurry few lines for signature. But there was no help for these guys. They saw the rule and my five ID's were of no help here in idiot-kingdom. "I can get you the manager, if you like" -the second lady said. The first lady had taken refuge to another check-out as facing my lecture of using one's brain was a bit too much to take, even though it was only early in the morning.
The queue stopped, people behind me moved to other checkouts and I was left waiting for the manager with four ID's and my card on the counter. There was one more staff member - a lady in her sixties - that wondered past and asked "what's happened here?". I explained and she shook her head in disbelief. She saw the utter stupidity of the situation and grabbed all the cards and approached lady number one. But the first check out was in no mood for discussion, she was upset. I had upset her system. I had upset THE system. The older lady clearly understood what to do (check my I.D. carefully against the name on the visa card and then compare the signature to the ones on the different ID's) but she didn't want to upset the system - after all, she had to live with it and come back to work tomorrow. She had the brain but not the courage to use it. I was left to wait for the manager.
The manager arrived heavily armed. He - a man in his mid 30's - had a bunch of photocopied papers showing the banks rules, fully equipped with pictures of the backs of credit cards showing the white area where the retailer WILL find the customers signature. This is clearly the rule. I looked at the man and said: "If my credit card is stolen and the thief comes here, all he needs to do is to take a pen and do a few strokes that resemble the signature already shown on the card, yeah? Now, for my own security, I ask that you check my identification carefully - provided with my photo and signature. Are you saying that just a signature is better protecting me than looking at my I.D.?" The man had already red cheeks but he remained remarkably calm, just as a good law-abiding manager must do. He said: "We must go with the banks rules. You need to put a signature on your card".
I argued a little longer, before I realised what is going on. Then I took the pen and did a few lines with it on top of my totally unlawful "ASK FOR I.D." text. Hurray, there was ink at the back of my card. "Now you can sign the docket" - the manager said calmly, with the red colour slightly darkening on his cheeks. I was laughing. The poor old woman at the checkout look at the manager in disbelief and asked: "So this is now ok?". "Yep, it's now ok, your card has a signature on it" - said the manager and removed himself with his paperwork back to a distant office of this zillion square meter mega store. His duty was done, the rule was obeyed. No-one ever looked at the ID or said anything about the scribble I made at the back of the card. There was ink on the card and that's all that mattered.
I had provided a tough and unpleasant situation to the staff of K-Rauta. In the meantime, the other check outs were pulling a steady line of customers. The girls were turning the cards over to pretend to look at the signature and then - if the purchase is big enough - they ask for I.D. and write the last four digits of the ID number in the computer, without ever really checking if the person standing infront of them looks the same. I was a square pebble in the smooth running ball-bearing machine. A pig among the herd of sheep. I'm glad I got this off my chest.
To be continued...
