Huh... how odd. And Kafka...

I have had to do some bureaucratic stuff the past few days. It was so odd, and surreal.... First I went to the wrong building, the one I used to have to get work permits at.

'ÄÄÄÄÄhh! Wrong!', as Alf used to say before the CIA got him. (Cat lovers will hate me for that reference, but that was a funny show.)

So this polite person noticed I was uncertain, and explained that the place I needed is in a spanking new building fifteen minutes' walk away. Oh.

So I went over there, of course. Fully automated. It reminded me of the film 'Brazil', so it was sort of Orwell, also. And on the left was only for persons born between January and June. And on the right was for those born between July and December. So I went right. There were a mess of machines in there, and everything hyper-modern. And touch screen computers. When the hell did they do all this, and how did we, the taxpayers, PAY for it? Somewhat disorienting.

On the right were little teller counters, labelled A-H. And I thought, 'Am I in the right PLACE?' 'G' was free, but they all had signs saying you couldn't talk to the persons at the counter without a 'ticket'. Whatever that was. And, yes, they actually used the English word. And I must have looked totally, totally lost, because the little guy in 'G' asked, 'What are you looking for?' I told him, and he said I had to go to a machine and punch out a ticket and then wait till my number came up and then I would see what counter I had to go to on a huge screen they have, and when your number comes up it beeps like those backing-up-trucks' warning signals. Unnerving, it was just unnerving...

So I punched my ticket out, and then about ten minutes later... my number came up and I had to go to.... Mr. 'G'. To be fair, he didn't look like he was DOING anything important, and no one was there... but I thought, 'Good Gawd, this is Kafka.'

'Give me your health insurance number.' I did. He typed stuff in... (then... him, shocked)

'You've never been here before.'

'No.'

'Are you an Austrian citzen?'

'Yes.'

'You 'escaped ' from the US?'

(And yes, he actually said that, am making nothing up here....)

'In a manner of speaking, yes. You wouldn't understand. But I would do it again in a second.'

It was so surreal. Kept wanting to speak English with me. He had all my papers.... In the end, he was nice. I guess he had to work by the rules. They never used to...

They would get their xenophobic stuff right in your face.

And then said I have to come back today, and go to room 19 at a certain hour. With certain papers.

And a form I had to fill out.

So... was putting all the stuff together this morning to go to )))ROOOM 19(((
(It sort of sounded like, 'beam me up, Scotty', and I get to see the mother-ship.)

And discovered......

Some people do NOT know what an oral contract is, one that is pre-dated, and then in writing, and signed. Then it becomes a binding contract. And you keep it, hey, just sayin'.....

And not then give you something official with something TOTALLY ELSE on it. Or actually try to BRIBE you into the worst decision you could make for a pittance more, and ruin you in the long run. I nearly heaved.

(Nearly, Annti, but then I got angry.)

Someone tried to talk me into the worst thing I could have decided, to 'their' gain, as I learned later. Or that is what I've learned since, at any rate....

Uh-HUH.

I was so fucking hurt...

There was a guy who had an appointment in room 18. Sort of Middle-East looking. And NO I did not look to see if he had a back-pack, or for signs of wanting to blow us up. I didn't care, at that point.

So both parties were free, we were a little early, and both go to see if we can get this all over with a few minutes earlier, and whaddaya know, hey....

Mr. Middle East gets sent back out to wait till EXACTLY the appointed time, and I go to room 19, (neither of them had people in there....) , and I say 'good morning, am little 'over-puncual'... 'NO, come in!' A twenty-something, very adept young, very attractive woman with a nice smile and honest eyes. Since I'm still written up sick, she wrote me up as being put inactive for the moment. The money comes from the health insurance, meanwhile, I learned. What the fuck do I KNOW, hey.

The person I had to deal with was NICE.

So it was ok.

Will be hanging in the air for months.

Maybe I can do a trapeze routine, and learn to do a fan dance simultaneously while I'm at it.....

Who knows... and as much as that pisses Annti off.... It is only your sense of humour that gets you through it darlin', I know that for a FACT.

Right....

Carry on. Nothing to see here....