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THE MUSIC MAKER ·

The eternal problem with decisions made in offices by people dressed in suits and/or high heels, sipping on endless glasses of sparkling water, is that they're not borne of any practical experience whatsoever

Saturday, 19 February 2022, 12:11

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Well that's a blessed relief. This week the authorities have finally put an end to the need to show a Covid vaccination passport in bars and restaurants in order to be permitted entry. It's been a right old bother, let me tell you.

The eternal problem with decisions such as these, made in offices by people dressed in suits and/or high heels, sipping on endless glasses of sparkling water, is that they're not borne of any practical experience whatsoever.

"Right, García, that's settled, then. From now on all patrons wishing to enter any hostelry will have to show a QR code proving they've been jabbed to within an inch of their lives. It'll be downloadable to their phone."

"Er, ok, sir but who'll check them?"

"The bar staff, of course."

"But aren't they already supposed to be enforcing mask-wearing, disinfecting tables and generally faffing about with a mind-bogglingly extensive range of largely ineffectual rules and regulations?"

"Possibly, García, yes, but they'll manage, my good man, they'll manage. Now, pass me the sparkling water, would you?"

Clearly meetings like these never take into account what actually happens in practice on these occasions e.g. large groups of customers arriving, only one of whom doesn't have his phone on him, or customers whose code is lost somewhere among the gazillions of inconsequential photographs stored on their device and takes fifteen minutes to unearth, or people whose code is printed on a piece of paper that looks as if it's been recently trampled by a random selection of wild beasts and hasn't a snowball in hell's chance of being successfully scanned anywhere, ever.

As far as I can gather, most establishments simply gave up the ghost early on and just crossed their fingers that they wouldn't be subject to a police inspection. Actually, I recall popping into one place only a few days after the rule had been introduced, brandishing my phone like an Olympic torch and beaming brightly at the man behind the bar. "Good evening, my man. You'll be wanting to scan this, won't you?"

He looked me up and down as if I'd just asked him if he'd like to come and watch me clip my toenails on Friday evening, snapped a cursory "No!", and turned on his heel in order to indulge in more fruitful pursuits, like serving beer. I never asked anywhere again and was very rarely asked in return.

Still, it's over now. Well, until the next bright idea occurs to someone in a suit in a meeting, I suppose.

"Garcia, I think we should require all customers to do twenty press-ups at the door of all bars and restaurants in order to prove that they're fit enough to enter the establishment."

"Er, ok sir, but who's going to count them?"

"The bar staff, of course."

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