There are good rules and then there are bad rules.

Being required to wear safety belts while driving is a good rule. however, earlier this week I ran into a bad rule on what for me was a bad day.

Tuesday for me began like most others - miserably. No matter how long I do it, I will never get accustomed to getting up at 5 am. I had a headache the size of the Blue Mountains and, as usual, my back hurt due for the most part due to the early morning chill.

By midday, just when I usually start to thaw out and feel better, my day suddenly got worse. I have never liked mini-buses or their drivers. What happened shortly after noon that day didn't do anything to make me change my feelings. The driver-side front fender of my car now bears the evidence of my displeasure.

Life goes on and after the collision I reluctantly continued to make my usual rounds before heading to a cambio in New Kingston to change out some greenbacks so I could pay my bills.

Rubbing me the wrong way

As usual, I joined the queue and wait my turn which, thankfully, was not long. I wasn't in the mood to be standing in a line after the violent confrontation between my car and the bus in which my car came out much the worse off, was still rubbing me the wrong way.

I handed the cashier my cash and requested that she covert it to the equivalent in Jamaica's 'Monopoly' money. She took my cash and proceeded to tap the keys on her calculator to see how much she was to pay me. As she tapped away she asked, "And what is the source of this money, Mr Levy?"

This is a question I have heard many times before when I go to convert money but usually my focus was on getting out of there as fast as I could to get on with my day.

On Tuesday, however, the situation was different. Maybe it was the carryover from the accident, thinking about what it should going to cost to fix the car, or maybe it had to do with the frustrations that I have had to be living with trying to do business in Jamaica, just over a year after returning home. Whatever it was, the cashier's query made me angry.

I mean, how is the information really relevant? Just give me the money and let me be on my way. "I work for it," I said.

She looked at me as the beginnings of a smirk started to appear on her face. "And what kind of work do you do?" she asked as her voice began to harden just a wee bit.

By then, I wasn't even thinking anymore. "I sell weed."

A couple people in the queue behind me giggled.

"Sir, the Bank of Jamaica requires that I ask you," the cashier said in her defence.

Makes no sense

I explained to her that I understood but this was a rule that made no sense. Why? Because whatever I told her, she had no way of knowing if I was being truthful and that made her question redundant.

If I was required to prove the source of my US dollars then her question would have made more sense. Otherwise, it is just a bad rule. I know the cashiers know it but they have to do their jobs at the risk of being ridiculed on a daily basis by idiots like me who are having a bad day.

Rules like these are also among the reasons why investors have a hard time doing business in this country.

I get that there is an attempt to target people who may be laundering money in this country and, no matter how lame the attempt, the authorities have a job to do. It's just that rules like these achieve nothing other than to annoy law-abiding people like you and I.

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