I was ordered to stay in the pound until I got a license. Now I have one. Conditions met. Order completed. My brain no longer has a hook in it that's attached to a freight train.
You'd think there'd be a carrot and stick arrangement with direct orders. Instead, the best I can ever hope for are orders that feel like being beaten with a carrot.
License. Here's the form. Fill it out. Submit… and… accepted!