The Tyranny of Bureaucracy
I am fresh from that eternal quest of satisfying the baying hounds of my bank. How cruel that my ally should also be my adversary.
Readers of my normal blog (assuming there are those here who aren't) may remember an eruption of fury over the inflexible horrors of the Japanese Post Office, their confusion as to what to do with somebody who orders their names in a different way, the petty particularities of their ubiquitous forms and stamps...
...some months ago, when trying to transfer some money from my Japanese account to it's English counterpart, the assistant who dealt with me was caught out by the fact that my ID card said Patrick, but the form I'd filled in didn't. Maybe if I wasn't already so angry then, that would have been fine (at a push)...I wrote "Patrick" on the form with a petulant flourish of my pen...
..and so today, when I try to perform the same transaction, with a perfectly completed form containing all four of my names, who should meet my request other than the same woman? I'd clocked her from the moment I got into the Post Office, and was frantically mumbling incantations to every deity I could name, in the hope that they would spare me this torment. Alas, my prayers fell on deaf ears, and she called out my number...
"She can't possibly have a problem this time" thought I. "Assume" makes an ass out of you and me, dear reader. Her problem this time was that although my ID & the form I'd handed in said "Patrick", their records of me didn't.
The idea in my head that wished to be expressed transcended mere words. In it's pure form, it would have melted her on the spot.
Cue, more forms, and what should be a very simple transaction taking twenty minutes. I am now bereft of a cash card for the next two to three weeks whilst they give me a new one that says "Patrick".
What is it about this woman? Why, when I have one of her colleagues helping me, does the procedure carry on with nary a worry, when with her, she is foxed by hurdles which are, let's be honest here, really bloody simple and easily overcome by people who posses just an ounce of imagination? I hope that she, and her paper-wasting, tree destroying, and consequently, oxygen-thieving ilk, choke to death on paperclips.
Readers of my normal blog (assuming there are those here who aren't) may remember an eruption of fury over the inflexible horrors of the Japanese Post Office, their confusion as to what to do with somebody who orders their names in a different way, the petty particularities of their ubiquitous forms and stamps...
...some months ago, when trying to transfer some money from my Japanese account to it's English counterpart, the assistant who dealt with me was caught out by the fact that my ID card said Patrick, but the form I'd filled in didn't. Maybe if I wasn't already so angry then, that would have been fine (at a push)...I wrote "Patrick" on the form with a petulant flourish of my pen...
..and so today, when I try to perform the same transaction, with a perfectly completed form containing all four of my names, who should meet my request other than the same woman? I'd clocked her from the moment I got into the Post Office, and was frantically mumbling incantations to every deity I could name, in the hope that they would spare me this torment. Alas, my prayers fell on deaf ears, and she called out my number...
"She can't possibly have a problem this time" thought I. "Assume" makes an ass out of you and me, dear reader. Her problem this time was that although my ID & the form I'd handed in said "Patrick", their records of me didn't.
The idea in my head that wished to be expressed transcended mere words. In it's pure form, it would have melted her on the spot.
Cue, more forms, and what should be a very simple transaction taking twenty minutes. I am now bereft of a cash card for the next two to three weeks whilst they give me a new one that says "Patrick".
What is it about this woman? Why, when I have one of her colleagues helping me, does the procedure carry on with nary a worry, when with her, she is foxed by hurdles which are, let's be honest here, really bloody simple and easily overcome by people who posses just an ounce of imagination? I hope that she, and her paper-wasting, tree destroying, and consequently, oxygen-thieving ilk, choke to death on paperclips.
posted by Shining Love Pig at 3:52 PM
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