I Dislike Filling up
Forms Of all things in the world, I most dislike filling up
forms; in fact, I have a positive horror of it. Applying for a driving license,
(51) for an evening course, booking a holiday
abroad—everything nowadays seems to involve (52) information
about one’s personal life and habits that has little or nothing to do with the
matter (53) hand. When I apply for a job, it may be of some
obscure interest to a (54) employer to learn that I collect
stamps or had measles as a child, but why (55) he
conceivably wants to know that my father was a tobacconist who died in
1988 The authorities who (56) one to fill
up forms, frequently demand answers to questions that one would hesitate to put
(57) one’s intimate friends. The worst of it is that, when
confronted with such questions, I find my mind goes blank. Have I ever suffered
from a serious illness My mother always (58) me I was
“delicate”. Do I suffer from any personal defects Well, I wear (59)
lenses and my upper teeth are not my own, but perhaps the word
“defects” (60) to my character. Am I supposed to
(61) that I like gambling, and find it difficult to get up
in the morning Both of them are true. Of all, I think job
applications are the (62) . “Education”—previous
experience—post held—give (63) … Terrified by the awful
warning about giving false (64) which appears at the bottom
of the form, I struggle to remember what exams I passed and how long I worked
for what firms. (65) hard I try, there always seems to be a
year or two for which I cannot satisfactorily account and which I am certain, if
left blank, will give the impression that I was in prison or engaged in some
occupation too dubious to mention.
