Bureaucratic Brilliance

My mind has taken a turn for the worse. It’s become all mushy like jelly and I can’t think straight. That’s why the blog is late. At first I was worried. What on earth can I do if this condition persists? Then the answer hit me. I’ll become a government bureaucrat. A mushy brain would be nothing but an asset!

How can I be so disparaging you may think? Well, personal experience tends to affirm my position.

Many years ago when I sailed into Tangier Harbour an official set about examining the ship’s papers. Whilst doing so he nodded thoughtfully and made numerous notes in a little book. His examination took some time, but I managed to hold my tongue and not laugh. I felt he might be insulted if I mentioned he was holding the papers upside-down.

Another time, I was checking in to Porto, Portugal. The official put numerous stamps on various papers then indicated where I was to put the ship’s stamp. But I didn’t have one. “But Senhor,” he reasoned, “the papers must be stamped by the captain.”

On the table was a half finished bottle of wine. The cork had a plastic top with some sort of crest embossed into it. I extracted it from the bottle, applied it to the ink pad and made my mark on the papers. The official laughed. All was now in order.

But it is not only ‘those ignorant foreigners’ who nurture bureaucratic buffoonery - we have more than our fair share here.

To operate a power driven vessel in Toronto Harbour requires a special licence. To obtain this, an operator must pass both a written and practical test.

The written test is the obvious stuff about buoyage and rules that supposedly prevent one vessel ramming into another. The practical test demonstrates to the examiner that the examinee is actually capable of driving a vessel.

I obtained my Harbour License some ten years ago in a twelve foot aluminium dinghy with a small outboard engine. I had to throw a lifejacket over the side and show that I could pick it up without chopping it to shreds with the propeller. This of course was to demonstrate that if someone fell overboard, I stood a fair chance of rescuing them in one piece.

I then had to show that I could put the vessel alongside a dock in a fairly professional manner. Sort of like the part in a driving test where you have to park the car. The instructors don’t like to see damage resulting from the manoeuvre.

The test took roughly an hour.

Soon after passing this, I took another test. This one was to permit me to captain a harbour cruise boat owned by my wife. The vessel, the ‘River Gambler’, was licensed to carry five hundred passengers. This ticket required only a written test. The governing authorities appeared not in the least interested in my ability to competently pilot the vessel.

Go figure!

(Edited by Davina Chapman)