There seems to be a phenomenon of "jobsworthiness" sweeping the UAE. "Jobsworth": a word used to describe someone who won't help you with something because it would be "more than my job's worth". The Oxford English Dictionary describes a jobsworth as a "an official who upholds petty rules even at the expense of humanity or common sense."In order to explain the term more fully, I will regale you with two examples of how jobsworths have affected me this week alone.
The first incident occurred when a traffic accident made me late for a driving lesson. I tore across the driving school road into the parking practise area and stopped, out of breath, in front of the instructor. "Sorry I'm late, traffic accident", I puffed. He looked at his watch. "You're 17 minutes late," he said, "I'm sorry but I can't commence the lesson if you're later than 15 minutes." My heart sank. It was my last chance to practice parking before the dreaded parking exam - which I had already failed four times.
"Please," I said, "I really need to practise." He shook his head firmly and assumed position next to his car. I waited another minute to see if he'd leave. He didn't. I asked him if anyone else was using the car or if he had anywhere else to go. He informed me that no one else was using the car, and he could not go anywhere until the end of the lesson. "There's still 30 minutes left, we could just get in and practise couldn't we?" He beckoned another instructor and huddled with him. "Of course, let her practise - I know that English one; she keeps failing," the other instructor said, gesturing toward me. The instructor came back. "I will phone the supervisor and see what he says," he announced. The supervisor did not answer. The instructor then went to find him, confirmed it was all right to proceed with the lesson and we did. For the six minutes that were remaining. Needless to say I failed the parking exam. Again.
The second incident happened when I walked up to a bank 15 minutes before I was due at work. "Please take a ticket, madam," the teller said. "Ahem, there's no one else in here," I said. "Please take a ticket," he insisted. Bemused, I took a ticket, the kind used when there is a large crowd in order to allow people to be served in an orderly fashion. The number was 668. The number showing on the screen above his counter was 672. I sat down directly in front of him in the deserted bank. Studiously ignoring me, he pressed the buzzer and the number went down to 671. He waited. Then pressed again to 670. I settled down with the realisation there was nothing I could do to prevent him being a jobsworth and waited until my number was called.
Many of us are here to work and do the best job we can, but sticking so rigidly to pointless rules can lead to immense irritation and time-wasting. When did sense became so much less common?
