This reminds me of the rules of grammar,
and the number of "authorities in control"
that I have worked in my life.
Grammar is something that some of the
control freaks have insisted that their
style be matched, even when it was wrong.
In general, now, I just do not give a damn,
about any style,
for that matter, not much of anything.
Now how does one learn in a situation like that?
The first was a fellow we
referred to as Brezhnev. Then there
was Billy C, the pleasant evil person,
who sold leased cars to the leasing company,
and then leased them back.
he called it.
Then there was the worst of the
bunch, DC, the asshole in many way,
followed by the religious thief and fraud artist,
but he went to church each Sunday.
Each had a style unto themselves,
and they each insisted it be matched.
Billy C was the easiest to match;
say as much as possible, but preface
everything as: it may be found: XY showed:
take no authority for anything: etc..
He also insisted on parallel construction,
that is a long list of phrases, of the same type,
separated by commas.
One of this reference books,
called his style type as over-commas-ed-ass.
Oh well, he was a pleasant fellow,
but he never paid all the bills.
He created so much ill will that
it was difficult to work for him,
and the company was a target
for the people he screwed.
Sugar in gas tanks,
and anything lose walked off,
things went missing,
even the employees had it in for him,
such was life.
Expense claims not paid,
employee deductions not remitted,
then no health insurance,
when sickness happened.
and expense claims,
rent not paid,
the sheriff seizures,
(in Canada the sheriff are civil),
But he was a wonderful speaker,
with no follow-through.
He had the habit of disappearing
for days at a time,
then surfacing in some small town
with a job for us to do
at a giveaway price.
He came from a company
that was said to have the father,
the son, and the holy ghost.
After they got rid of him,
it provide for many people for years,
until it was taken over by an eastern concern,
which could not pay for it,
and then it was returned to Frank,
who was buried the same day as my mother.