Not one, not two, but three people stared at me in awe as they read out to me not once, not twice, but thrice, with an additional flurry of hand gestures on the third attempt, the word that I wrote on the field “position/job title.”  Is it that incredible for people to see someone applying for a Postal ID who earns his living with words?

I wouldn’t have gone with all the horror of getting this not so special ID if I didn’t lose all my identification cards, which I might write about sooner or later. I don’t have the guts yet to do that as of this moment because it entails a series of embarrassing events. Sorry for the digression, but as I was saying, this Postal ID caused me some indignation, which I was not really able to vent out due to lack of sleep and the looming financial crisis that I soon will experience in the next few weeks.

I was just my ordinary self when I went out for this ID. Actually, I am still wearing the same shirt as of this time. I am just wondering what was so unconvincing with what they saw in me that found themselves verifying the veracity of that little piece of information on my application form.

Okay, I could have misled these people. What I wrote on that short blank was the word “Writer.” Maybe I should have written it with the word “Freelance” because that’s what I really am, but I didn’t want to complicate matters. Or maybe I should have just contented myself with “Independent Contractor” because that’s basically the same, only broader. Or I should have just put what I really wanted to be, a “Technical Writer,” but I would have some explaining to do, of which I had not the energy to divulge in to. Or I should have just spelled it out with a lower w, but I don’t think they would have noticed the difference between a Writer and a writer.

That’s it, they underestimated me just as I am underestimating them.