Signatures

One of the most accurate precisions in determining whether one is truly ‘adult’ is his or her signature. The shape or size or squiggly patterns do not account for this, ‘course, but the requirement of these in official documents like opening a bank account or getting an IC or a passport would determine correctly if you’re adult enough to sign.

I was out with my dad on Wednesday to apply for a passport (like FINALLY after 19 years without one wtf), and one of the things that struck me as amusing was the designation on the wall proclaiming that kids have to fingerprint their thumbs, and adults have to sign on the passport and the form itself.

Nothing out of the ordinary for the most of you perhaps, but I thought it was a funny thing to remember – I was 12 years old or so, at a bank with my mum applying for a bank account, when the lady at the counter asked if I’d like to sign on the form instead of dirtying my thumbs with black ink. At that time, I liked the sound of that, as it sounded like a very adult-ish thing to do at the age when I wanted to grow up very quickly (not anymore).

But then the lady changed her mind, saying that my signature would continue changing, which is something I somewhat agreed. My signature then and now probably didn’t vary much, except that a few years later during secondary school I made it looked more aesthetically pleasing, and it has stuck through till now. My friends and even collegemates called it ‘the sperm’ (wtf signature also got gelaran), but once a teacher commented that my signature resembled that of a CEO’s. :D

I’ve once pondered how adults actually arrive on their current signature – my dad’s filled with zig-zagging sharp lines, while my mum’s was more curvy and small and looked somewhat neat. Do they simply draw random patterns and start memorising them? Do they attend lessons for signature-creating so that people won’t start emulating yours and steal your credit cards?

These questions don’t matter now, but somehow everytime I sign on a piece of paper – be it the attendance list or a document – I feel a small twinge of pride. A rite of passage that everyone goes through.