Bureaucracy Killed the Cat

Do you ever get the feeling that accomplishing basic tasks (such as–oh, I don’t know–getting a phone or bank account) is sometimes FARRR more difficult than it need be?

In fact, has attempting to accomplish these tasks–that are arguably necessary for life even in the middle lane, not to mention the fast lane–ever made you feel like a complete and utter idiot?

No?

Then you musn’t ever have attempted to sloppily paste together a life in Jolly Ol’ England.

Admin Monkeys

Like many out there, I have spent loads more time than necessary at the whim of a whole GAGGLE of admin monkeys. But the admin monkeys have none of those endearing qualities exhibited by our close primate cousins.

The AMs are devoid of charm, sparkle, or even personality, and it’s difficult to imagine that at one point in their sad, wilted lives, they used to dream big dreams, or even–gasp–think for themselves.

These admin monkeys are interchangeable, whether they serve you at the phone shop or at the bank. They wear flimsy plastic nametags that could easily be interchanged with one another(‘Cheryl’ could be a ‘Tony’) and I would be none the wiser.

But the only remarkable thing about these admin monkeys is that each has a uniquely obnoxious—but summarily polite–way of squawking their demands at me.

“Sorry, Ms. Christie, you’ll have to come back with your passport”

“Ooooh, my regrets, Ms. Christie, we’re going to need five copies of your grocery list from last week”

“Ms. Christie, I regret to inform you that we will be needing to conduct a variety of brain and body scans in order to ensure that you are not–in fact–a terrorist/android/Jane Fonda impersonator.”

Frustration

Unless you’ve been in this situation of completely bogus bureaucracy, I’m not sure if you can fully appreciate the irritation of having to travel up and down a single flight of stairs between the “registration” and “records” floors in order to gather an elusive piece of photo ID that-much like the Loch Ness Monster- is rumored to exist but, in fact, does not.

This country—or maybe just this town—seems to take a sadistic pleasure in watching its newbies paddle around like those hollow rubber ducks at the amusement park games.

But although we’ve been caught so perilously in the chump-and-grind of Blighty life, an end does appear to be in sight.  Don’t worry–I have now knocked every piece of wood in site. If all goes according to plan (which it rarely does) I should finish today with both a mobile AND a bank account…what a win for the good guys!

No doubt I will again find myself in the admin jungle again, but for the time being, I have escaped hanging myself with red tape. Phew.

Please enjoy the following vid, illustrating the joys of British bureaucracy