New to Sin
Where I am from Sin refers to dangerous, irresponsible and highly pleasurable behaviour which dissolute bon-viveurs find irrestistably attractive. Canadians have seen the perils of this racy and unsettling term for their law-abiding people and reclaimed it as the name for the National Insurance card, ensuring that no one need be menaced by those three little letters that lead straight to hell. Over here they lead to state-run pensions and an accurate and efficient income tax system instead.
Yesterday m'chum and I went and queued up for our SINs (ho ho) and experienced yet again the wonders of a functional beaurocracy. We were in and out in 60 minutes (including optional 30 for same day - same day! - service). The form was the world's shortest and simplest. The staff were kind and helpful and smiled. The people queuing all chatted and fetched each other forms from the carousel. The furniture wasn't bolted down. It could have been a 1950s village post office on the Isle of Wight.
But here was the telltale sign of the colonies: despite involving the world's shortest form I nevertheless managed to run into trouble owing to having been born in a small, unremarkable and not at all famous town in Scotland whose chief distinction is having at some point in the distant past given its name to a large and glamorous town in Canada which has since become very famous indeed. Had I been born in Banff, Alberta then I expect I would be much better at skiing and landscape photography. As it is, Banff, Banffshire has given me a curious accent and an indelible addiction to chips. However, there is no quarrelling with fate, and it is Banff, Banffshire takes the laurel for producing me, a fact of which the official was readily convinced when I adduced the necessary vowels and evidence of calorific consumption. I did wonder whether the two Banffs have anything at all in common, besides a name and persistent subzero temperatures. About as much as I have in common with an Olympic swimmer, I expect, or my ex-boyfriend has with an internationally renowned global economist. They'd certainly differ in their attitudes towards SIN.
Yesterday m'chum and I went and queued up for our SINs (ho ho) and experienced yet again the wonders of a functional beaurocracy. We were in and out in 60 minutes (including optional 30 for same day - same day! - service). The form was the world's shortest and simplest. The staff were kind and helpful and smiled. The people queuing all chatted and fetched each other forms from the carousel. The furniture wasn't bolted down. It could have been a 1950s village post office on the Isle of Wight.
But here was the telltale sign of the colonies: despite involving the world's shortest form I nevertheless managed to run into trouble owing to having been born in a small, unremarkable and not at all famous town in Scotland whose chief distinction is having at some point in the distant past given its name to a large and glamorous town in Canada which has since become very famous indeed. Had I been born in Banff, Alberta then I expect I would be much better at skiing and landscape photography. As it is, Banff, Banffshire has given me a curious accent and an indelible addiction to chips. However, there is no quarrelling with fate, and it is Banff, Banffshire takes the laurel for producing me, a fact of which the official was readily convinced when I adduced the necessary vowels and evidence of calorific consumption. I did wonder whether the two Banffs have anything at all in common, besides a name and persistent subzero temperatures. About as much as I have in common with an Olympic swimmer, I expect, or my ex-boyfriend has with an internationally renowned global economist. They'd certainly differ in their attitudes towards SIN.
posted by Scarlet at 5:14 am
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