There are many advantages to living the life of a "starving artist."  I have the ability to create my own schedule and to write from anywhere - a combination that led to me being able to live in a different state for the last 4 months.  The disadvantage of living elsewhere, however, was that not all my mail made it to Kansas.  This led to a doctors bill from January that went unpaid for 4 months, ending in what is now a "delinquent account" in my name. 

I'm not sure what this means - do alarms go off somewhere the next time I try to call and set up an appointment?  Is there a picture of me at the doctors office with a big red X through it?  Considering the bill was for all of $30, I can't imagine this is the case, but it's something I'm going to have to get to the bottom of.

It also led to my 2010 Census forms never quite reaching me.  So, Wednesday morning I sat on my bed surrounded by various envelopes and forms and, fearing I'd missed the deadline, opted to call them with my information. 

A very official sounding man answered, whom I'll call Carl, for several reasons; one, I don't remember his actual name, two, I don't know any Carl's, and three, it sounds about right for this type of man.

And so we started one of the most infuriating conversations I've had in months. 

First we discussed the issue of my race.  I was asked to pick from a list of possible races that I might be.  Almost every other option was either ridiculously complicated or bridged by the word OR  - "Native American or Pacific Islander," "of Hispanic or of Latino descent," "Skin darker than a double caramel latte but not quite as dark as a triple caramel latte," etc.  

No one seemed to want to weed through the different varieties of Caucasian, however.  It didn't matter if I was of Northern European descent or Eastern European Descent, it didn't matter if my skin was the color of virgin snow (which it is) or the color of city street snow, my option was simply "White."  This made answering pretty simple, I thought.

When Carl finished listing my possibilities, I answered "White" pretty definitively.  

"So there is only one member of your household, and that member is white," he confirmed.

"Correct," I answered.

"So the one member of your household is not of Hispanic decent," he clarified.

"Correct," I answered again.

"Ok," Carl said.  "Now please answer the next question to the best of your knowledge."

"Will do," I waited patiently.

"To the best of your knowledge, there is one person living in your household, and that person is not of African American decent."

This sounded pretty familiar.

"That is correct, sir," I told him.

"So the sole member of your household would best be described as "white."

"SIR YES SIR!" I shouted.  Perhaps I hadn't been answering in a very official capacity, and this was the problem.  Well, I was out to amend that.

Carl, however, was less than thrilled.  So, we moved on to my household guests.

Carl asked me if there had been anyone staying with me from the armed forces or a from nursing home.

"No sir," I told him.

"So on April 1st 2010, no one was staying with you from a nursing home."

"No."

"Were there any babies living in your residence?"

"No sir, no babies."

"Ok," Carl said.

"Are we done?" I asked.

"Just a few more questions," said Carl.  "On April 1st, 2010, were there any babies or anyone from a nursing home living with you?"

He had to be kidding.

After assuring Carl several times that I had no college students, senior citizens, or armed personnel crashing on my couch, he seemed satisfied with my answers.

"Is there anything else I can help you with ma'am?" he asked.

"Actually, yes, just one question," I said.  "Since I gave you this information on the phone, do I still need to fill out my form and send it in, or does this take care of it?"

There was a long pause.

"Carl?" I said.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?"

"Since I gave you this information on the phone, do I still need to fill out my form and send it in, or does this take care of it?" I asked again.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," Carl said.

"Seriously?" I asked him, but when he was silent, I figured he must not be kidding.  Carl didn't seem like the type to kid.  So I tried a different approach.

"Ok, Carl.  I, Melissa Milne, the lone, white member of my household, have given you my Census information on this Wednesday, June 2nd, in the year of our Lord 2010, over the telephone.  Having done so, am I still required to fill out the physical, paper Census form that was sent to me in the mail, or has this telephone conversation given you the answers about me that you need?"

Another long pause from Carl, until he finally said "I'm sorry ma'am, can I put you on hold while I look for an answer to your question?"

Then, before I could even answer, I was on hold.  

Twenty-five minutes later, Carl came back.

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I wasn't able to find any information to answer your question."

"Seriously?" I said again.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today, ma'am?"

"Goodbye, Carl," I said, and hung up.  

I appreciate the thoroughness, I do.  There should be absolutely no confusion now about how many members are in my household, whether or not I had any house guests staying there in April, and what we all look like.  Still, for as thorough as he was trained to be, you'd think Carl would have been scripted some sort of answer, should the question of inadvertently being counted twice come up.

Still, I didn't have time to worry about it - I had a delinquent account to take care of.  The thought of having WANTED posters with my face on them slapped all over Wisconsin does not appeal to me.