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Government

   

A FRIEND of ours applied to have his boat registered. After getting no response for some time, he phoned the agency in question. The young woman he spoke to was savvy and polite. "Hold on a moment and I'll check," she said.   She came back on the line seconds later, having located his application. She told him it had been acted on and was ready to be returned to him. She apologized for the delay.  Overwhelmed at this display of competence and good manners, he thanked her, adding, "This is the first time I have ever received such efficient and courteous treatment at the hands of a government agency."  "Oh, thank you," she said. "I guess it's just that I'm new here."


DURING my career in the federal public service, numerous directives, often couched in administrative jargon, were issued. Having served their purpose, these were usually relegated to the wastebasket. But one which I could never bring myself to discard concluded with this thought-provoking postscript: "This circular replaces circular 1959-36 which has never been distributed."


A little boy wanted $100.00 very badly and his mother told him to pray to God for it.  He prayed and prayed for two weeks, but nothing turned up. Then he decided perhaps he should write God a letter requesting the $100.00.  When the postal authorities received the letter addressed to God, they opened it up and decided to send it to the Prime Minister.  The Prime Minister was so impressed, touched and amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy a check for $5.00. He thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy.  The little boy was delighted with the $5.00 and sat down to write a thank you letter to God which ran as follows:

Dear God:

Thank you very much for sending me the money.  I noticed that you had to send it through Ottawa.  As usual those bastards deducted $95.00.


A WOMAN who works for the state of Louisiana got a call from a man who paused when she told him the name of her agency. He then asked her to repeat it. "It's the Governor's Office for Elderly Affairs," she told him again. There was another pause.  "For gosh sakes, sign me up," he said. "I didn't do too well when I was young."


THE clerk of the village of Wardsville, Ont., received a letter containing the following request: "... The Culture and Recreation subcommittee of the Association of Municipalities of Ontario suggested that it would be appropriate to write to all the municipal clerks and ask each of them to submit a short brief or letter concerning the Arts in their municipality - how are they regarded, how are they funded, what effect do they have on the life or the economy of the municipality, and so on." The clerk replied: Dear Sir: Reference your letter requesting information on the Arts in our municipality. We are pleased to advise that we have four: Art Harold Art Morgan Art Marks Art Sweet They are all extremely well regarded in the community. They are mostly funded by Old Age Security Pension and Canada Pension, and all contribute to the economy of the municipality in their day-to-day living.


A few months ago, there was an opening with the CIA for an assassin.  These highly classified positions are hard to fill, and there's a lot of testing and background checking involved before you can even be considered for the position.  After sending some applicants through the background checks, training and testing, they narrowed the possible choices down to three persons: two men and a woman, but only one position was available.   The day came for the final test to see which would get the extremely secretive job.  The CIA men administering the test took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun. "We must know that you will follow your instructions, no matter what the circumstances," they explained.  "Inside this room, you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Take this gun and kill her."  The man got a shocked look on his face and said, "You can't be serious!  I could never shoot my own wife!"  "Well," said the CIA man, "you're definitely not the right man for this job."
  So they bring in the second man, take him to the same door and hand him a gun. "We must know that you will follow instructions, no matter what
the circumstances," they explained to the second man. "Inside, you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Take this gun and kill her." The second man looked a bit shocked, but nevertheless took the gun and went in the room.  All was quiet for about five minutes, then the door opened. The man
came out of the room with tears in his eyes. "I tried to shoot her. I just couldn't pull the trigger and shoot my wife. I guess I'm not the right man for the job."   "No," the CIA man replied, " you don't have what it takes.   Take your wife and go home."
  Next, they turned to the woman for her test.  They led her to the same door, to the same room, and handed her the same gun. "We must be sure that you will follow instructions, no matter what the circumstances.  This is your final test.   Inside, you will find your husband sitting in a chair.  Take this gun and kill him."  The woman took the gun and opened the door.  Before the door had even closed all the way, the CIA men heard the gun start firing.  One shot after another, for 13 shots.  Then all hell broke loose in the room.  They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls.  This went on for several minutes, then all went quiet.  The door opened slowly, and there stood the woman.  She wiped the sweat from her brow and said, "You guys didn't tell me the gun was loaded with blanks!  I had to beat him to death with the chair!!!"


VISITING a government office building in Ottawa, I entered an elevator full of civil servants. Being closest to the door, I pushed the button for the next floor. Nothing happened. I pushed again. The elevator did not move. Then a voice called from the rear, "Try pushing in triplicate." I gave the button a quick triple jab. It worked.


As A night clerk for the Kansas City division of the FBI, I frequently received calls for a local hospital that had a similar number. One night after answering the phone, "FBI," I heard a gasp on the other end of the line. Guessing what had happened, and trying to be helpful, I said, "That's all right. You were calling the North Kansas City Hospital, weren't you?" Before I could give that number, there was another gasp and a man stammered, "Boy — you people really do know everything!"


MY WIFE'S name is Jean and my name is Jean ("John" in English).  One of the problems with having the same spelling is that often we don't know to whom the mail is addressed.  After waiting for over four months for my Quebec income-tax refund, I commented to my wife on the incompetence of the government.   "Yes, I know," she replied, "they can really mess things up.   They've sent me two refunds."


A Guy is talking to his wife, asking if he should wear his Armonni Suit or just jeans and a t-shirt to the IRS audit.   She says, "Well, let me tell ya what my Grandma told me on my wedding night.   Doesn't matter if ya wear pajama's or a silky night gown, either way, your screwed."
   

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Last updated March 12, 2013 by Becquet Enterprises