Charlene stares at me. Charlene: “We don’t do that. You have to get a Supreme Court judge.” I’m weeping now. Charlene: “D’ya wanna sit down.” Me: “No, I just want this certified. The form says you can do it, and this form is current from 1 November 2009.” Charlene: “We don’t do that. You have to get a Supreme Court judge to sign.” Me: “The form says you can do it, and this form is current from 1 November 2009. “ [I’m learning from Kafka.] “The form says you can sign this.” “FOR once the court was going to find itself confronted by a defendant who knew how to stand up for his rights.”* Charlene capitulates. The copies are signed. They’re in the mail. The only reason I persist is that I’m writing this article for the magazine and I’m being paid for it, in contrast to the great unwashed who are doing this in their own time, and losing money, and sleep, over it.

DAY 9 I phone MediaSuper and am assured that my application has been received and the paperwork has been sent to UniSuper and SuperTrace. I’m told to contact them again in one month to check that the funds have been received DAYS 45-50 My letterbox is bulging with paperwork telling me that my pittances are now in one fund. Suspiciously, I read the letters again and again. Seriously though, there has to be an easier way that this. As I’ve staggered out of the superannuation maze, I’m reminded of buying stuffed toys for children. There’s too many teddy bears on the shelves, crying ‘Buy me!’ ‘No, buy ME.’ ‘No, no. I’m the best, and I’ll love you the most.’ This plethora of choice doesn’t serve us better: we’ve become rabbits in the spotlight.

I wonder about the cost of all this apparent choice. Who’s paying? Then I understand. I am. I’ve also become suspicious of the complexity of the products and the systems. The sceptical part of me says it’s intentional. Surely a country of 20 million people doesn’t need hundreds of funds with thousands of strategies. Why can’t we use our tax file numbers instead of the number that the super fund assigns us? Please don’t cry ‘Privacy laws’ at me. The problem with the byzantine labyrinth is that it’s evolved to serve everyone but the members. There’s a whole lot of people clipping the superannuation ticket, and I’m left with a very holey ticket. And so, this is the way the story ends, not with a bang but a whimper [with apologies to TS Eliot]. I was almost looking forward to talking with Lurlene, Darlene and Charlene again.