"This form. It's far too complicated." Mr Jordan, the new Junior Clerk, held up a sheet of paper to Mr Pettifogger. "Do we really need all this information?"

"Need, my boy?" Mr Pettifogger's voice boomed across the office. A few heads rose to see what the noise was about; but, when they realised it was the Chief Clerk, they quickly sunk back to their work. "Need? Of course we need the form to be filled in. It must be complete - in all aspects."

"But, sir, most of this is unnecessary. Why do we need to know this? Or this? And what has this got to do with anything?" At every 'this', Jordan's finger stabbed at another section of the form.

"They are demanded by the process, my boy," Mr Pettifogger replied. "Who are we to question the process?"

Jordan paled at this. "Of course not, sir," he said quickly - he did not want to endure another of the Chief Clerk's lectures. Since he had started his job, Jordan had had at least one talk a day with Mr Pettifogger, and his didacticism was rather wearing. "It might just be helpful if the process was more ... ." Jordan thought for a moment, searching for exactly the right word. "More efficient, sir. It would make things easier if - ."

"Easier, my boy?" Dust fell from the ceiling, shaken loose by the force of Mr Pettifogger's indignation. "The process is not intended to be easy. It is intended to be correct. That is all that suffices. We are not here to make life easy for those who do not understand the process. Pray, Mr Jordan, put your overactive mind to work and imagine -," this word was loaded with a particular contempt, "- imagine what would happen if the process was made easier." Mr Pettifogger shuddered. "No, Mr Jordan. That would not do."

Mr Pettifogger stood up and glared at the Junior Clerk. "You do not appreciate how easy a billet you have acquired here, do you? Perhaps you could do with your probationary period being extended, eh my boy?"

Mr Jordan bowed to the Chief Clerk and hurried back to his desk.