Stand up and be counted--or else

>> Census agents do whatever it takes to get you to give up that form

by CRAIG SEGAL

Admit it, most Quebecers could care less about the number of Filipinos in Canada 75 years and older in 1996 (4,900) or the average number of people in a married or common law Quebec family (3.1). But the government's census enforcers will hunt you down if you let that thought manifest itself into a blank census form.

"Joe," "Che," and "J.Lo" heard it all. They are three of the 34,000 Canadians employed by your government to do whatever it takes to get you to fill out your census form. Too busy? Please. Can't find a pen? Do it over the phone. Deaf, dumb or blind? Get a family member to do it.

Joe tells a story of an elderly man who invited him to his group home to fill out his census form. But when he got there, the man had other plans.

"He just flipped on the TV," says Joe, who trained Che and J.Lo. "I'd ask him questions. He'd just keep watching TV. Finally I asked him, 'Is there anybody here who has this information?' He says, 'Yes, call my son.' I ask him where his son is. He says he doesn't know."

Ninety-five per cent of the province has returned completed forms so far for this year's May 15 census, says Martine LeMontagne, regional census manager. She says that in the last census in 1996, 37 Canadians did not return completed forms. Twenty-six of the 37 filled them out just before going to court. The remaining 11 paid $500 fines. If they hadn't they could have ended up serving a three-month prison sentence. But in the history of Statistics Canada no one has ever gone to prison. "People in Quebec and Canada are very receptive to the census and very open to filling it out," says LeMontagne.

"People have many reasons for not filling out forms," she says. "Some people don't understand the necessity for the census. They don't want to tell the government about their lives. But in the end when they see what it's for, they fill it out."

Foot in the door

With a little help. The enforcers spent days walking in circles, buzzing the same buildings hour after hour in extreme heat or rain. They visited delinquent households far beyond their four-call, three-visit limit per address. Census enforcers are allowed no more than a 1.8 per cent failure rate. That comes to nine blank forms for their allotted 500 households each.

Census official salaries range from around $1,000 for lowly employees who do drop-offs and follow-ups to up to $9,000 for a five-month contract for a census commissioner like Joe. But enforcers may not be paid in full if they don't meet their 1.8 per cent.

Listening to their stories, it becomes immediately clear why the enforcers don't want their names used. J.Lo still hopes to "get laid by a pretty housewife" and Joe boasts he was greeted "on a couple of occasions" by "ladies in nightgowns."

Amorous musings, however, take a back seat to getting the forms completed. Anxiety built up to such a high point that they regularly wedge boots or over-sized census books into doorways as government-fearing citizens slammed doors on them. This year census employees were ordered to work alone. Yet J.Lo and Che often worked together--especially when they felt their safety was in danger.

"Certain people are going to be tough with you," says Che, leaning into the table at an Italian café on St-Viateur. "Sometimes you have to use tough love to make it happen." Che tells the story of the Intercom Lady. Upon calling her on her building's intercom, she repeatedly refused to let him up. Finally he held in the "speak" button and yelled at her, "You are legally obliged to fill out this form!" Suddenly the door was buzzed open, and they completed the form together in minutes. "I put the fear of God into that woman!"

One time Che paid a visit to a household that had yet to return a completed form. The door opened quickly, giving him just enough time to pass the census form to a middle-aged man, behind whom were three Asian women hiding their faces behind sewing machines. "The form came back with only one person registered at the address," Che says. "I left there with a really bad taste in my mouth."

They have many more stories. The scared Rwandan fellow, for instance, with the machete scar across the side of his head. "Many of the people we spoke with came from Third World countries with totalitarian governments that torture people," says Che. "They are afraid of anyone representing the government." Then there's the heavy-drinking "white trash" guy who succeeded in scaring of J.Lo and Che. As tough as these guys are, they draw the line at physical intimidation. As J.Lo explains, it's just a job in the end. "You aren't smitten by a burning desire to find the truth."