It started on September 15th. The notice appeared in my in-box, warning me that my car insurance was about to expire, and demanding that I submit proof of my new insurance immediately. The notice, which consists of a photocopied slip of paper with boxes checked off, was signed by Melvin, who sits twenty-five feet away from me, and who actually had to pass me in order to put the notice in my mailbox. That he didn’t just hand the notice to me is typical—he is extremely concerned with Following The Rules, a characteristic that clashes with his radical political views and subversive sense of humor. Yes, Melvin is a mass of contradictions, but when it comes to car insurance, he toes the line!

Naturally, I ignored his memo, so on September 30, I got another one, this one filled out in red ink. (Which I ignored.) Sensing my indifference, Melvin stopped casually by my desk and delivered an oblique threat in the form of an anecdote about other employees who hadn’t provided proof of insurance.

“First…” said Melvin, ominously, avoiding direct eye contact, “I send them a notice. Then, if they fail to submit proof of insurance, I cc: their manager.” This failed to intimidate me, which I think he sensed. He continued, “Then, if they STILL fail to provide proof of insurance, I cc: their SUPERVISOR.” I nodded politely, pretending that I wasn’t getting his point. He pointed a finger toward the ceiling, and said, “THAT always gets results!” He explained that he devised the system because he feels that managers and supervisors “should want to know” that one of their employees is driving around without insurance. His premise was off, but it is futile to argue with him once he’s on a tear. He doesn’t have a car, or a driver’s license, and the distinction between being truly uninsured and a failure to submit a photocopy of one’s insurance to some office bureaucrat is lost on him.

I didn’t open my mouth once during the lecture, but he covered all my possible protests anyway. “Some people say,” (and here he waves his arms dramatically and raises the pitch of his voice to imitate what he imagines an uninsured person would sound like) “ ‘ But why do I need to give you proof of insurance when I am only driving a company car? I’m covered by the company’s insurance!’ And I say to them...” (and here he looks me with blood in his eye, pointing a finger directly in my face) “Can you PROVE to me that you will never drive your own car for work-related business?! And they must sign an affidavit SWEARING that they will never do so, and if they are caught doing so, there will be HELL TO PAY.”

I let him finish, although my interest level in the story is low, owing to the fact that I have heard this particular warning about six times previously. Then, I tell him, fake-obliviously, “Hey, Melvin, I renewed my insurance, but they haven’t sent me my card yet. I’ll give it to you when I have it.” My solution, because it does not Follow The Rules, displeases him, yet because he likes me, he is unwilling to tell me to my face that it’s unacceptable. He dances around it. “Well, if I were you, I would call my insurance company immediately and make them fax me something. Tell them that they’re getting you in deep doo-doo at work. They’re eager enough to take your money, demand some service!” It is a rare type of mind that can consider the lack of a piece of paper “deep doo doo,” and perhaps sensing that I don’t consider him a threat, he ups the terror alert to orange. “If you get pulled over by a policeman for reckless driving, I doubt that he’ll consider it good enough when you say that you renewed your insurance, but they haven’t sent you the form!”

I suppose he’s right, but if that happens, I’ll be in way more trouble for the body in the trunk than any old insurance mix-up.

Star of the day. . .Gahan Wilson