A Long Time Coming

I first met Stephanie Thompson on my first day in the policy section of a government department.

For reasons not known, I was placed in a section of this department that took advantage of my tertiary studies. I had BA with a major in Demographics, the study of population. The reason that I mention this is that I am the only person working in this department with the right qualifications. Before I got too excited, I was placed as far as was possible from being able to use my qualifications.

"Hi, I'm Stephanie, Stephanie Thompson, welcome to our part of the world. I assume that you are a new graduate come to work for us in a department that has nothing to do with your degree."

"You're half right. I'm Randal Fisher. My qualifications are in Demographics, something that I had hopes of using. This does not appear to be the case."

"Get used to it. I have a BA with a history major, not that it is used here."

"So, what do we do in this part of the world?"

"As little as possible. No, that's not true. What we do here is to examine ministerial policy announcements and see if they will work. We are tasked with preparing briefing papers for press conferences outlining, in general terms, guidelines to the implementation of said policies."

"But, isn't that going about it arse up, pardon the french."

"We have been known to use stronger language than that. And yes, it is going about it all wrong, you'll get used to it."

"What are you working on right now?"

"Studying the data from the last election to see if we need to alter electoral boundaries to ensure that the government is re-elected at the next election."

"But that's gerrymandering."

"Leave Gerry out of it, it's ensuring that there is equal representation across the board, at least that's what is being pushed on the public."

"Won't the opposition complain?"

"Not that it will do any good, all the government has to do is to point out that the opposition did exactly the same thing when they were in power."

"How far have you got?"

"Far enough for the PM to infer that there are statistical anomalies that need to be addressed."

"Let the bullshit begin."

"You're a quick learner." She took a pile of documents from her in-tray and passed them over. "Have a read through this lot and tell me what you think."

I skimmed through the papers for fifteen, twenty minutes. "Does he need to understand the report we write for him?"

"I doubt that he'd understand anything beyond a grade three level, he's not known for his brilliance. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it depends whether you want him to keep his job or not."

"You do realise that we are not supposed to get involved in the politics of what we do, don't you? Or did you not get that part of your induction diatribe?"

"Those sort of things cut both ways. We can produce something devoid of any political bias and the pollies (politicians) will politicise it to the point that we would be accused of bias. On the other hand, we could produce something that is so loaded down with academic bullshit that he won't understand a word of it and try as he may, he'll never be able to spin his way out of his lack of understanding."

"How would you propose to achieve that?"

"It's called information overload, something that I learned at Uni, you provide them with so much information that they can't see the wood for the trees. Someone once said that 'there are lies, damn lies and statistics.' Interpretation of statistics is an art form, you can get statistics to tell you almost anything that you want from them. With a bit of practice, we can produce figures that both sides of the political spectrum can use to justify their stance."

"How does this information help us in this job?"

"Demographics are interesting in that broad trends can illustrate a particular point, but those same figures, broken down into their constituent parts can illustrate the opposite point. For instance, a person of say, a working-class background who becomes successful and moves, with his family, from his working-class home to a bigger and better home in an affluent area, creates several anomalies. The first is the loss of a few people from a working-class area can be interpreted in several ways, the upward mobility points to a successful economic situation, or it can mean that he has died, illustrating that the life expectancy of people in this socioeconomic demographic is shorter than that in the more affluent. It can also be seen as changing the political bias of the more affluent area with the introduction of people more likely to vote for a party other than the traditional voters."

"As a historian, I can see that we can interpret the population in a historical perspective or a statistical perspective and arrive at different conclusions based on the information provided. I would think that, on the basis of demographics, that something like ninety-five percent of the population of Sydney in 1789 would be made up of criminals. Sixty years later, with the decrease in the number of involuntary immigrants, the increase in the number of people who have completed their incarceration and moved into gainful employment and are no longer criminals, plus the increase in the number of free settlers coming into the country, that figure could be as low as twenty percent. The raw figures are meaningless unless the historical information is added to them."

"That's all well and good, I have a much more pressing question, where is the best place for lunch around here?"

"Follow me."

This snack bar was obviously well patronised by people from the department given the number of people that called out to Stephanie as we went in. "Got a new victim I see Steve, what happened to the last one, you didn't scare him off, did you?"

"You're only jealous because your offsider doesn't have the brains to work out how to arrange a transfer to another position. I train them well, it's only a matter of time before they are off to a higher calling. Randal here is not long for this world, he's smart."

We ordered and sat to wait while our food and coffee was assembled. "Do you normally eat at your desk?

"Yeah, I can only stand so much of the bullshit that hangs around this place. I sometimes have a pub lunch but I thought that I shouldn't be introducing you to my bad habits this soon in your tenure."

The food was good and we munched in silence until coffee time arrived. "How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Six months, my predecessor has moved to a higher level of consciousness. He died and I was offered his job. I don't plan to die anytime soon, so you're either in for the long haul or you'll find a reason to leave. The decision's yours."

"I just might stick around for a while, get my sea legs so to speak."

"You talk like someone who is more intelligent and has a broader outlook on life, than the average graduate, how come you're not still at Uni working towards some fancy post-graduate degree?"

"I needed a break from study."

"I detect that it's more than that, spill."

"Okay, it's a matter of finance. I could only just afford to find accommodation when I graduated, I couldn't go back to live with the olds, they could not afford to have me living at home since Dad lost his job due to some virus killing off his industry. Mum is not able to work and Dad can no longer afford to pay for her full-time carer. That's his job now."

"Surely you'd be able to help by paying rent once you get paid?"

"It appears as if, because of some convoluted conditions that allow him to draw down on his superannuation, he's okay. But if I was living at home he'd be classified, because I'm no longer a dependent child, as receiving an income and that provision would disappear. I will be able to slip him the odd dollar or several without anyone knowing. How about you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad huh? Let me guess, trouble on the home front?"

"Why would you say that?"

"You've recently stopped wearing your wedding ring."

She looked at her left hand and the pale line around her ring finger. "It's a work in progress."

"Are you trying to salvage your marriage or looking for a way out?"

"One or the other, I don't know which way it will go."

"I won't push the issue, whenever you're ready I'll help as much as I can."

"Thanks for the offer but I have to work this out for myself."

"The offer still stands."

I spent the next half an hour scrolling the Census data before taking my laptop from my case and beginning to input data to a programme that I had loaded onto it.

"What are you doing?"

"This is a programme that a friend and I developed at Uni to make life easier for us, it takes data and allows us to skew it in any of several different ways. No one but the two of us know of this so it's not something that I can load onto the department's computer. Sirens and flags would pop up all over the place."

"So what are you intending to do with this?"

"Cause as much trouble as possible, without getting caught of course."

"Do you want a hand?"

"I can't ask you to help, you could lose your job over this."

"But you're prepared to throw away your career."

"That supposes that I'll get caught."

"If you won't, I won't."

"There is some risk involved, a small risk, but it's there nonetheless."

"Aren't you getting involved in politics, something that's against the rules of our job?"

"This is not political, I have a personal reason to shaft him, we'll leave it at that, at least for the time being."

"What would you say if I were to suggest that we use your programme to compile the reports we have to compile? That'll give you, us, more time to work on your personal issues."

"Okay, let's see what we can achieve. If we take the raw statistics and break them up into a whole range of categories and sub-categories, that should give him a few headaches."

"Where do we start?"

"We can break them down by country of origin, time in Australia, religion or lack thereof, education, marital status, number and ages of children. That'll keep him busy for a while."

"You mean his poor long-suffering Electoral Assistant, don't you?"

"That's for our free time, all we need to do for the present is to create said free time. Let's have a squizz (look) at the voter list for the last election and check them against the most recent census details."

"Yes, boss."

"It's only a suggestion, I have no intention of taking over your job."

"You'd better not, my revenge will be swift and painful, something to do with what's dangling between your legs."

"I'll bear that in mind." The lack of anger in this exchange has given me hope of getting along very well with my new work colleague.

If you're not interested in demographics and statistics, the next three hours would have been stultifyingly boring. I don't know if that's a real word, it should be, it describes the boringly routine or routinely boring work we carried out. As it was, we were interested, given our goals, in the work at hand, to the point that we almost missed that time of day so important to public servants, knocking off time.

"As it's my first day on the job, I drove in, can I offer you a lift home?"

"That depends on which direction you're headed."

"South, not quite Feralville South, but close."

"Good enough. Kind Sir, I accept your kind offer of transportation to my residence."

"Follow me, my chariot awaits."

We walked towards the 'all day' parking station. "if you don't mind, I have a request."

"Oh yes?"

"When we're together, do you think that we can put a lid on this pseudo-intellectual way of speaking, it may be fun for a time, but, by the end of the day, my brain is hurting. I didn't go to a posh school, I didn't mix with that crowd at Uni, so it's hard to maintain this bullshit."

"Well fuck me dead, a guy who wants to talk proper. I could get to like you."

"Let's see how this pans out, shall we? For mine, I could get to like you on a personal as well as professional level."

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Too soon to tell."

"You do realise that, if you are, this puts a whole new dimension to my marital status. It gives me an alternative solution."

"Don't get carried away just yet."

Steve looked very seedy when she arrived the next morning. "You sit there and take it easy, I shall be back shortly with a couple of strong coffees."

"You had a lousy night too, did you?"

"Yeah, I had this bright idea of creating a BBD."

"What the fuck is a BBD?"

"A Buzzword Bullshit Dictionary. Actually, it's more a Thesaurus, we can set up Macros that convert ordinary words into the latest political buzzwords. How about you, thinking about me were you?"

"Don't get the impression that you had, in any way, affected the moisture content of my panties. The man of the house came home very late and told me that he had been out with the boys. I got the impression that some of the boys were dick-less."

"Sorry."

"Don't be, just another nail in the marital coffin. You go get coffee and I'll get started on this report. The man expects it today."

We worked on the report and, when the messenger came with a new batch of files for us, we handed it to him with instructions to deliver it to the Minister's office.

Mid-afternoon the Minister's Administrative Assistant came into the office. "The Minister can't make head or tail of this report and he's supposed to present it at the next cabinet meeting tomorrow morning. He wants a precis of it so that he can address any concerns."

I hoped that she didn't see the expression on our faces, we had succeeded. "Okay," Steve said, "we'll draft a response for him that he can understand."

"Thank you." She left. High fives.

With a great deal of literary gymnastics, we managed to present for him a precis that sounded quite lucid until, that is, it is analysed more closely.

"When are you going to tell me what your motivation is?"

"Soon, I promise. I need to discuss it with someone before I'm ready to administer the coup de gras."

"I want to be there when you kick him in the goolies."

"You will be, I promise."

We tidied up and went home, pleased with our day's work. I had entrusted myself to the public transport system, so we walked to the train station and caught the train to where I had left my car and I drove her the rest of the way to her house.

"I can't kiss you, but thanks all the same." She kissed her finger and placed it to my cheek. "See ya tomorrow."

"Would you like me to pick you up here in the morning?"

"I'd love that, but hold that thought until I get the lie of the marital landscape."

I was almost out the front door when my phone rang. "Hi, it's Steve, his lordship has left for work, if you want, you can pick me up on your way through."

"Great, I'll see you in ten."

Steve was waiting for me when I stopped outside her house. She slipped in and, wait for it, kissed me on the cheek. "You may go now." She said as I wiped the lipstick from my cheek.

We hadn't even got a kilometre down the road, "Shit the bastard was watching to see if you were picking me up. We had some heated discussions about who it was that was dropping me home from work. I told him that you had only just started to work and that you offered, seeing as it was on your way home. I thought I had convinced him that there was nothing in it, apparently not."

"So, what do we do now?"

"Tonight you will have somewhere to be and won't be able to give me a ride home, hopefully, he'll calm down when he sees me walking down the street."

"One can hope. If there are problems you can call me, you know that, don't you?"

"I know, and I appreciate that you are who you are." She reached over and squeezed my hand, I squeezed back.

Our days were getting into a non-boring routine, we were able to breeze through the work we were getting paid for, leaving us with more time to do the more interesting personal work. With the next election fast approaching it was time to put my plan into action. The government announced the new electoral boundaries designed to rectify the anomalies introduced by the previous government. There was the predictable outcry from the previous government claiming a disproportional representation and predicting that their chances of being returned to power had been all but made impossible. Also predictably, the current government accused the previous government of the same thing.

We were called upon to provide details of the demographics of the shift. The figures we produced were able to be interpreted in a variety of ways and the charts that accompanied them were equally ambiguous.

The Minister, also predictably made a stuff up of trying to explain the need for changes. The media were predictable also. The one thing that becomes obvious when we have an adversarial system of parliament, the media is similarly adversarial. The beauty, as far as we were concerned, was that each sector of the media swooped on any data that assisted their argument and ignored anything that didn't.

The shitstorm increased as days went by and the number of requests for clarification, that he didn't understand, from the Minister, increased exponentially. Using the system that my mate and I developed we were able to keep ahead of the game.

A month out from the election, two things changed in my life. I had decided that it was about time that Steve knew why I was waging this personal vendetta against the Minister. "Steve, you know that I promised to tell you why I've had it in for the Minister?"

"I hadn't forgotten, I didn't want to push the issue."

"I know and I'm thankful that you didn't. Anyhow, as they say in the classics, 'the time has come the walrus said', will it cause problems on your home front if you come with me to meet my parents tomorrow evening?"

"If you'd asked me that a month ago I would have had to think about it, but now, I am ready to move on with my life. If you get a surprise call it means that it hasn't gone exactly to plan, if there's no surprise call, my plans have succeeded. I could, of course, call you to break the good news."

"Call me whichever way it goes, I could provide the shoulder you need to cry on or a bed that you can share."

"Don't get too carried away, I may not be ready to jump into bed with you just yet. I need to see which way it goes before we get to that point. Whichever way, I'll still go to meet your parents tomorrow."

His car was in the driveway when I dropped her off. "Do you want me to wait while you see what's going to happen?"

"No, it's best if I face him alone, if he sees you hanging around he'll most likely get very angry."

"Does he ever get violent?"

"I won't say never. We'll see what happens. See you in the morning." She left the car without any sign of intimacy, I noticed, as I drove off, the curtain in the front room flutter closed. He'd been watching.

It was around nine-thirty when she called. "Your shoulder will not get wet tonight. The bastard wants a divorce, it appears he wants to be with one of his mates, the one with no dick. He told me that he was in love and will move in with her while we sort out who gets to keep the house. He'd been planning this for a while, he had most of his clothes packed into his car when I got home. He's gone."

"Do you want me to come over and help you to get over this devastating news?"

"While I'd love you to do that, I have to ask that you hold off. I get the impression that he might be back, just in case you come over and he can rationalise that I'm not shattered by his news. If you don't come he'll think that he's the one who has made the move. I want him to go on believing that it was him that ended our marriage, not me. I'll see you tomorrow."

We talked about a range of things, skirting around the immediate future but in a way confirming that the was a future for us. We had been talking for over an hour when a car pulled up outside her house and the man arrived home. Steve put her phone down so that I could hear what was going on.