Heavenly Beverley : What a Beige Assault of a Census.

After all the kerfuffle, failure, chaos, and fiasco of the Census launch last Tuesday, I was mildly surprised to see the Census log in details had arrived in my inbox on Sunday night. I had not expected the disaster of the website crash or the hapless oversubscription of the phone lines to be resolved so quickly. I was quite sure that I would be still waiting, with bated breath of course, for the materialisation of the all important Census information for at least another week or so.

This rapid resolution of their internet woes presented me with another challenge. I would now have to gee myself into the Right Frame of Mind to actually open and complete the Census. And with all the dread and doom flying around this data retention, I was concerned that the document was going to be rather daunting.

On the other hand, I hoped that the Census would require, what I considered, to be more relevant details of our lives. For example, with three dogs and a cat, we are in desperate need of a doggy daycare here in town. If the Census was innovative at the least, questions such as dog and cat ownership, were in my opinion, vital to future planning for the country.

After watching the idiot box, I resolved to ignore the elephant in the corner no longer. With courage in hand, I opened the ABS website and loaded our individual twelve number code. Which immediately took me to a new page with a new password. Which I then had to enter in order to proceed. There were about as many doors getting to the Census as there were accessing CONTROL headquarters.

The moment of truth. But instead of a trumpeting of triumph, the Census itself was rather like sitting on a whoopee cushion. A short, rude interruption which was instantly forgettable.

The questions were basic, banal and boring. There was no chance to add private vision to the document. The process took less than fifteen minutes to complete and submit. And that was after I had to go back to my details to check an answer.

There were limited chances to be individual. I answered as "Kate" as I saw nowhere on the form I had to use my full legal name. Which is a tiresome trio of titles I dislike. And I do hope the computer has some sort of reaction if it reads I've had seven babies. Which I have. And I have been neither promiscuous nor uninformed. I was the unfortunate target of sheer bad luck on a number of occasions.

After completing this driest of documents, I retired to bed and tried to sleep. Naturally, my brain wouldn't turn off from the pointlessness of actually conducting the Census. So, here I was,sitting at my laptop, thinking of all the government departments and other agencies that have all the same information, plus a great deal more, than what the Census required me to answer.

A number of banks, insurance, and superannuation organisations, Medicare, the Electoral Commission, the Department of Transport, the Shire of Beverley and the greatest of them all, Centrelink and its Big Brother, the Department of Human Services all have far more data about Michael and me than the Census required.

Which begs the question - why have a Census at all? The government has all this information at its fingertips, hidden away in a variety of different compartments in a multitude of departments. There is an information superhighway bulging with details about us all. What's the problem with using all the previously gathered tidbits rather than wasting a great deal of money on a long winded Census?

Due to my offbeat sense of humour, the Peter Principle reared its cheery head again and provided the answer. The problem with collecting data is that Somebody has to collate, administer and distribute all the humdrum bits and pieces about us all to Somebody Else. In order to do Something. Or at least to pretend to do Something. Which if you have departments full of bureaucrats rising to their ultimate level of incompetence, nothing much actually happens. At last, an adequate definition of government!

So, having wasted less than half and hour on filling in the Census, I have had much more entertainment writing this post. And my concerns about data retention? I shall not lose any sleep worrying about my intimate details pointing to some misdemeanour. And as Michael succinctly pointed out - "who cares if they keep my data for ninety-nine years? I'll be dead!"

Lastly, I remember the Census being infinitely more fun when we had to colour in the circles on the form.