Usually, when dealing with Spanish bureaucracy, the real pain starts when you are dealing with a person on the other side of the desk who asks you for a form, paper or document that you did not know that you had to have. It turns out that this document (that you did not know that you had to have) is essential. Is obviously essential. Patently. At least to the person sitting opposite you. And their weary disbelief at your lack of appreciation for the missing piece of paper is palpable. And nothing can or will be done until the paper is produced.
Sometimes you have the document that is necessary, but you failed to bring a copy of that document and then things fall apart and the centre cannot hold and you have to depart and come back another day. This actually happened to me.
I hadn’t be asked to provide a copy of anything, so the demand for one came out of the blue somewhat. And I reasoned that, if a copy was required then surely it would be simpler all round if the official opposite me made a copy on the photocopier that I could see in another part of the office.
So, I gently suggested, “Would it be possible for you to make a copy here?”
“We are not a photocopy shop!” I was told in disgust.
I had to search around for a place to make a copy before I could return.
Today, to be fair the major problem was not what happened in the office but how I got an appointment in the first place.
To renew my residency document, I needed to make an appointment in the section of the police department specifically dealing with documentation for foreigners. The appointments are made online and they are virtually impossible to get. No matter how and when you try, you fail. At first, you put the failure down to bad luck, but then after a couple of weeks of trying you begin to get just a little bit panicky because the expiry date on your card is getting closer. But you’ve left plenty of time and so you try again, expanding the location of the offices that you can use. And you fail.
And your card expires and you are no further forward in getting an appointment. Then your bank informs you that your residency card is no longer in date and that will effect your ability to have a working bank account!
A desperate visit to the bank later and fears are partially assuaged by the dismissal by the teller of immanent rejection, assuring me that as long as I am making an effort to get it renewed there will be nothing to worry about.
But I did worry and so decided to go to a lawyer or notary and pay if necessary. The lawyers I spoke to were not encouraging, but one of them “had a friend” who might be able to help. A phone call later and I was informed that an appointment could be provided at a cost of 100 euros. For a supposedly free appointment.
This “selling” of appointments is a recognized scandal, it was even featured on a television documentary a few days ago, and nothing is done.
My 100-euro appointment was for the very precise time of 12.09 pm, a time I was to discover was more conceptual rather than related to temporal reality. I arrived early, queued firstly in the wrong queue and was then redirected to another queue and had to pass through a metal detector, which I failed but was waved through by the young police officer and made my way down to the office that was going to deal with my application.
My name was ticked off a list and I was given a numbered ticket which was some 30 numbers ahead of the number being dealt with.
Despair gave way to the Kindle on my phone, and I was content. Apart from the fact that the person dealing with my case also seemed to be the fountain of documental wisdom and was consulted by all and sundry, my application was speedy. And in spite of the traffic-filled roads on the way back, there were no real hold ups and as I may not have a new card yet, I do have a receipt that explains that one is on its way.
A result. And we went for a menu del dia to celebrate!
