Cool within the rules

REBECCA VARCOE IS A STICKLER FOR LAWS AND REGULATIONS.

You know how people always say milestone birthdays make you reflect? Well, I recently turned 30 and, surrounded by friends and family, shrouded in love and celebration, I asked myself the big questions. Questions like, why am I such a square?

A nerd, a wimp, the kind of scaredy-cat who doesn’t colour outside the lines. I’m the original Sandy Olsson in Grease – or, worse yet, I’m Patty Simcox, the girl even Sandy thought was too square to be friends with. I’m not the bookish, clever kind of nerd who surprises you with their wit and is super-hot when they take off their glasses. No, I’m the kind of nerd who’s easily intimidated by authority and says things like, “Hey guys, can we be cool within the rules?” I’m a big ol’ dork for regulations, and I freak out when I break them.

Best cut out for a job as a hall monitor, police informant or security guard at a children’s concert, I’ve lived a life defined by really, really not wanting to get in trouble. I don’t know where my fear came from – as a well-behaved kid, I was rarely scolded. My first brush with the law didn’t take place until I was 18, when some high-school graduation celebrations resulted in a friendly warning visit from the police (not that I ever saw them face-to-face – the moment I saw sirens I took off running down the street, leaving behind my shoes, bag and friends, like the classic coward in a zombie movie).

Faced with authority, if it’s not appropriate for the ‘flight’ part of my fight or flight response to kick in, I will cry 100 per cent of the time. It’s my body’s pathetic, embarrassing idea of what it means to ‘fight’. Once, when I was busted by a gang of ticket inspectors for a purely accidental fare evasion, they let me go without a fine because I became so hysterical. Instead, they kicked me off the train and begged me to calm down.

My cowardice and reverence for rules is not reserved for cops and public transport monitors, though. You know those signs restaurants and convenience stores display to warn that their toilets are for paying customers only? I take that rule so seriously that I’ll purchase a suite of snacks at a 7-Eleven before casually asking the attendant, “Oh, do you have a bathroom here?” as if it were an afterthought.

I do this even if there isn’t a sign! If they welcome all into their bathrooms, that’s their funeral – I’ll still be the happily paying customer who peed in peace, not wracked with the guilt of taking what I want from an unsuspecting shop owner.

Once, at a petrol station, I became irate at my friends as I pointed out the sign on the pump that clearly stated mobile phones were not to be used near the fuel. Sensing my frustration at their flagrant disregard of the rules, my friends continued to use their phones both in and outside the vehicle, deliberately sending me into a full-blown meltdown that I’m yet to recover from.

I’m 30! I should be able to break some rules! I want to use my phone at the pump and not fear the attendant yelling at me from their little window! I want to jaywalk confidently as I wink at a passing cop car! I want to pee in whichever toilet I choose without paying for a packet of Twisties first! But I’m a wimp, and I’m still working up to it. Maybe when I’m 40.