Bureaucrats, eat my siesta dish!

To my employers, employees, work mates and pupils, to anyone who listens to me for any paranormal reason: I have a serious problem, I have the need to understand.

There you go!

I'm recently having some bureaucracy issues. It reminds me to great Russians such as Chekhov, Gogol, Bulgakov, Dostoyevsky... as well as to the renowned Czech, but at the moment I live in Spain. Knowing that we are in the mid of August then these official issues remind me more of siesta time. The siesta time of the year.

Here we may have the ingredients for such a claptrap: a quarter of bland bureaucracy, a quarter of Spanish siesta, a quarter of bad luck (why not luck? I'm sure some had same problem solved in similar circumstances) and a quarter of... let's call it mystery. Mystery is the mash of herbs, timings, care and humour the cook uses while preparing a special dish.

I can actually cook. I proudly believe it and my occasional hosts usually confirm that they enjoy much the -not always common- meals I prepare. Can I really understand everything I do while cooking? Not sure. I know I need some basic good ingredients such as good olive oil, fresh onions, purple garlic, local lemons, fine wine and real vegetables. That's minimum. On top of having that at hand I control the timings, choose the techniques, and make up a story for each dish. Still, the results are not always the same. All of them are eatable but some much greater than the rest. Am I able to understand the reasons? No, not really. So what?

Pre-conclusion: can't avoid the dubious person I am. Am I right demanding the poor grey boring sad guy at the desk to do his duty and serve properly to the citizens who pay his earnings in the middle of August (or at any time of the year) just because I have the need to understand? I calmly don't think so. Because of him I may lose a couple of months of work and a couple of months of salary. I may spend some dozens of hours in paperwork. I may even lose patient, weight and health but... do I really have any rights to complain just because I can't understand what's going on behind the desks? Sure not (nor may it help at all).

So, let it be. 'Let it flow' would be the Taoistic eastern reply to the old communists pals. You know what? I'm really pissed off as you can realise, but heavy heat is ceasing and we started to enjoy some fresh air since last evening. This morning I'll walk to the administration building to present my plaints and once I'm done I'll head to my favourite bar to have a shot of vodka -in memoriam- before my daily glass of wine. Then I'll go back home and cook some paella with a Russian touch -not so common dishes, remember?- to end up in the park, taking a nap in a bench bundled up in a pine tree shadow. That's fruitful!

Conclusion & settlement: I won't dismantle you, bureaucracy, and you won't ruin my life. It's a deal. Tradition and obsolete systems will remain. I'll swallow it. I'll go on the binge and digest or puke it at the moskvich Massolit* because what happened then and there still does now and here.

* If you haven't heard of Massolit restaurant and writers club then rush to read Bulgakov's masterpiece 'The Master and Margarita', the ultimate script that will bring a clear 'Hell no' from your mouth as soon as you glimpse red tape nonsense in the distance.

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Artículo
English
16 de Agosto de 2019

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