I bet there’s someone here in California called Simon who has the best job on earth – he gets to print out signs with stupid rules that everyone has to adhere to, but no one is sure why.
Instead of playing Simon Says, he just laughs in his small office and prints a sign saying “House rules mandate that anyone who laughs in his office between 2PM and 4PM should legally change their name to Duchess Panda”.
I even heard someone believed that sign.
People here are crazy about rules. They adore them. But more than that – they treat them as the pure word of god (what we would call in Hebrew “Torah from Sinai”) if they're printed on paper, preferably laminated and posted on a well.
The “Mehadrin” have these little rules engraved on a nice piece of wood, and put them on their desk.
I went with some friends (cheers Arden and Guy!) to view an apartment in a nice building in San Francisco. The sales woman was very nice, very efficient, very knowledgeable and answered all the strange questions I had to ask.
On our way to go up to see the apartment in mind, she asked me for my ID. As a good Israeli, my immediate response was “why do you need to see my ID”?
It was like I had hit her with a hammer on her head. She was speechless. You could tell something was wrong by the angry look she gave me, and the formal tone she changed to.
After a short pause (and without any words really), she turned back and brought out a small piece of engraved wood saying something like “It’s company policy that all apartment viewers will be identified with an ID prior to the viewing”.
Without mincing words, I said: “I understand it is company policy, but why?”
It almost drove her nuts, apparently, so I gave up, and showed her my ID.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion an ID is just printed words on laminated paper. It’s another joke from Simon and his friends.
Like any rule that doesn’t exist unless it’s laminated, you don’t exist as well, unless someone laminated you.