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Identity
Theft - An Open Invitation
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by Sunny Nainai-
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There’s
been an awful lot in the news these days about identity theft
– people who, by using Social Insurance Numbers gleaned from the
internet or PIN numbers stolen from bank machines or credit card
applications stolen from garbage cans to “steal” a person’s identity
and run off with all of that person’s money and/or leaving their
credit in a shambles.
I,
however, am more than happy to have someone walk off with my identity.
The proviso being that, if you’re stealing my financial identity,
you have to take the rest of my identity with you.
Here
is your job. You work at a documentary production company producing
a series for one of the country’s largest broadcasting conglomerates.
The series was, until you came along, produced by another producer
and has a set formula, budget, and crew that you have to learn.
It has done well and won awards so everything you do from here
on in will be measured up against the past seasons. Also, because
it is in its umpteenth season, there isn’t much new ground to
break so some of your episodes are likely to be either very dull
or almost impossible to produce due to lack of interview subjects
or information. You have eight episodes to produce and you have
to manage interviews, re-enactments, scripts, editing, footage
finding, etc. Your budget, as far as these things go, is on the
small side. Your resources? You have a team of two (a researcher
and a coordinator), an overworked re-enactments team of eight,
maybe nine people, an overworked ex-series producer who has about
10,000 other things on her plate including two series and one
one-off documentary of her own. You have a nice office, though.
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Because
you came of age in the ‘80s you loved the video for “Come
on Eileen” by Dexy’s Midnight Runners. 20 years later you
still can’t be steered away from overalls over tank-tops.
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This
is your house. Did I say it was yours? Oops, I meant the bank’s.
You own the basement, which is infested with spiders and a complete
mess. Every time you get it into your head to clean down there,
you get freaked out and go for beer. The roof (which is not yet
yours) needs reshingling and the bathroom needs some work. The
house is a “character” house, which in common parlance means that
the layout is weird, the rooms are small and the plumbing and
electrical are probably going to need overhauling soon as well.
There are no closets, just indentations in the wall high enough
for a short eight-year-old to stand in and nowhere near big enough
to fit your clothes and your kids’ clothes in.
Which
brings me to your kids. You have two. They’re both girls and both
under the age of 6 (5 and 4, actually). They’re very sweet and
smart but having two same-gender kids so close in age means that
they will gang up on you fairly frequently. They have very specific
eating habits, like movies and/or videos that are extremely irritation
to anyone who isn’t a little girl and crawl into bed with you
at 4 AM, take up ľ of the space in the bed and kick off your covers.
Between clothes, food, housing and child care, they’ll eat up
at least ľ of your paycheque from the documentary company where
you now work. And they hate, I repeat, hate, having their hair
brushed, but both want their hair long. Go figure…
Your
new family will help you immensely with the kids, but they’re
a lot of work as well. You have two brothers, both younger but
bigger, and one likes to pick you up and throw you into snow banks.
Your new mom will worry that you’re working too hard and don’t
eat enough. You new dad will give you a disappointed look if you
drink anything with booze in it that is “too girly” and can’t
figure out how a daughter of his can grow up not liking scotch.
You’ve tried it, you really have, but can’t get why drinking anything
that tastes like dirt is a good thing. You like wine, beer, gin
and vodka primarily (not together) and have the alcohol tolerance
of an anorexic midget, so you have to be very careful. The good
news is that if you want to get drunk, only two or three drinks
will get you there.
This
is your wardrobe (the one that won’t fit in your tiny closets
that belong to the bank). Your fashion sense has been influenced
by a few unfortunate things:
You
do have a reasonably nice car but it, like everything else you
“own”, belongs to the bank. And it’s a Saturn, so your friends
occasionally call you a yuppie.
And
about your new friends – they are many and varied. You don’t see
them as often as you’d like because of your kids/work schedule.
You e-mail them and talk to them on the phone but really only
see them once a week when your ex-common-law-husband has the kids.
You’re probably more up to date with the gang on Sex and the City
or Trailer Park Boys than you are with your real flesh and blood
friends, but you’ll all get caught up when you all retire and
your kids move out.
As
for taking my money? There is none, but I guess you’ve figured
that out now. So enjoy your new identity, and since you’re not
using yours anymore, maybe I’ll take it. It would be a nice changing
having money I didn’t work for and that doesn’t get eaten up by
taxes and responsibility. I’ll be in the Cayman Islands drinking
a Mai Tai if you want to talk about switching back.