Long and Short of It: Census Takes a Little Time

That was the longest 43 minutes I have ever spent. If I had the Census Bureau’s ability to stretch time, I would have a lucrative income to report on line 32-A.
Can you tell I have just filled out my census form?
The Census Bureau estimates that for the average household, this form (appropriately called the long form) should take 43 minutes to complete.
Our household is not average-sized. Even if the time allotment were doubled, I wouldn’t have had enough time to complete the form.
I bet I spent 86 minutes on Question 29-B, trying to figure out my most important duties.
If you haven’t seen the long-form holder lately it is not surprising. I’m sure he is busy calculating how long it took him to get to work last week and deciding if swearing in French qualifies as speaking a second language in the home. (I suppose the answer to that depends on how much swearing you do).
Even the short form is long. My neighbor though she had the long form because she had to count the number of rooms in her house and estimate her house’s resale value.
Apparently, the Census Bureau doesn’t care if my neighborhood has a stove and a flush toilet. The Bureau wants to know that stuff about my household, plus a lot of other things I would rather not think about.
I started the project with a positive attitude. The day I received the form, I decided I would complete it right away. I sat down at the table and scanned the form. I had heard on the news that one out of six households would receive a long form. I wasn’t surprised when I realized we were among the lucky ones.
I asked myself: “What happens to you if you toss this out or bury it in a heap of papers on the kitchen counter?”
I found my answer in the instruction booklet: A census-taker will be sent to collect the information.
I didn’t want that to happen, so I began filling out the form.
Question 1-A asked for the names of the people in our household – all 10 of us. I begin writing. I turned the page and discovered that there was space for only seven individuals. I didn’t know what to do about persons Nos. 8, 9 and 10. I forged ahead successfully until I got to the questions about yearly expenses for electricity, gas, water, oil, wood, and kerosene.
I skipped those questions because they required some research.
The next segment concerned real estate taxes and homeowner’s insurance. I don’t like to think about these expenses when I pay them. Looking them up would certainly be no fun either.
I was about to give up the census for the evening when Patrick came around and asked: “What are you doing?”
When I explained the census, my son asked to look at the form.
“There’s a whole section for you to fill out,” I told him. Anyone born before April 1, 1975, has to answer the same questions as adults.
Patrick thought filling out the form would be more fun than doing his homework so he did his part.
The next day, I persuaded Colleen to complete her section. Then I suggested that she enter the information for the rest of the family.
She refused. “They’re your kids. It’s about time you counted then.”
I didn’t finish the form by April 1. I didn’t finish adding my electricity bills until April 6.
It didn’t seem like we were given much time to complete the form. The Census Bureau probably figured some folks would get the form in on time no matter what and others would get the form in late no matter what.
My philosophy: It’s better late than never. I’m still doing my patriotic duty.
I thought I was keeping a census-taker away from my doorstep, but I was wrong.
I completed the final question, closed the booklet and, before I could sigh in relief, noticed a footnote.
A census-taker apparently will call me to get the information about the individuals on lines 8, 9 and 10 in Question 1-A.
Some people have all the luck.
April 10, 1990