Finantial Patience

[A/N: "Repartição de Finanças" is that place, in Portugal, where you 'take care' of civil matters as a tax-payer citizen. I hope this is clear enough for you. I'm sorry if it isn't; any questions, please just tell me!]

The other day, 7am sharp, I went to the "Repartição de Finanças" in town and, obviously, there was a long queue of people waiting to be served by the workers inside the cubicles. It wasn't just a queue, because not only it got to the street: it surrounded the building twice! It was incredible as cherries in January...

First of all, I had to go inside and get a ticket with a number to mark my presence in the internal system. I snorted inwardly as I thought if there were enough numbers to all those people waiting in line. I thought I needed to make a choice of what I was doing there to get the right ticket, and so I had to read all the blank possibilities in the machine and choose the only one: “General Matters”. Big deal, I thought for myself, since I had no one else to share my thoughts with. All people in line were pressing their bodies together to make sure that I wasn’t going to fill any empty space in front of an inattentive costumer. I snorted at the scene again; so many people together sweating against each other in the queue, not caring about how they looked or smelled, but just trying to preserve their spot in there.

I obviously had to go to the last spot in the queue and wait for my turn to get served, and there were many old ladies sitting under the trees, which probably were placed so close to the building to be used for that purpose of waiting in the queue. As I arrived, they looked at me nervously, surely fearing that I would take their place in the queue. I know I wouldn't do such thing, because unlike many other people, I like to respect the order in the different queues we have to face every living day. Probably I am one exception in five million natives, because the ladies always warned me that they were there before, as soon as I took one single step forward. It didn't bother me at first, and I always tried to smile, but hearing the same quote constantly was nearly stabbing my calm nerves.

"Miss, don't forget that I shall be served firstly..." I smiled.

"Miss, don't even try to fool me and get my place..." I smiled.

"Miss, don't even think that I didn't see how you're trying to step further faster than you should..." I had to send that woman a glare.

I wasn't disrespecting anyone; I was just trying to relax my feet and legs from my standing position with which I would have to handle for hours! Many of those passed by, as many of those old ladies gave up and abandoned the queue without even getting close to the door. Others left exactly when the queue walked further about two meters; it was crazy like that.

As soon as I got into the building, I noticed that there were two cubicles serving the customers. What? With a queue that surrounded the building twice, even after I get in it, because obviously I wasn't the last one to arrive here, the "Repartição de Finanças" dares to allow such thing? There are two people serving the customers, how could the queue move quicker? Obviously, those two workers would get out of their cubicles every two clients, to go to some place behind the curtain that separates our eyesight from the inside of that place. I wonder what is behind that curtain... Is it a ‘fun room’? It probably is, because they take too damn long to come back, and we, customers, have to wait a little longer as they go inside to do whatsoever.

Maybe working in there is a stressing job. I understand that serving customers inside such tiny cubicles can be pretty stressful and claustrophobic, but couldn't they demand more workers there, instead of less hours working? Couldn't they demand larger cubicles instead of longer hours for their lunch break? Of course not, they're too busy with getting up from their seats behind the glass that makes them blind about the long queues that surround the building twice and going behind the beige curtain to their 'fun room' to do whatsoever.

Unfortunately, I was an odd number, and had to wait for the man inside the cubicle to dismiss the costumer immediately before me, get up and go behind the damn curtain again. That moment, I hated even more the piece of fabric hiding the most ridiculous secrets of a "Repartição de Finanças"! I wanted to rip it in such tiny pieces that the people in there had to buy another one, instead of just knitting the pieces together. If I was a character of some cartoon on television, I would be fuming from my ears and nostrils, seriously. To make it even better, the worker came back in his highly slow pace, but instead of going to his cubicle and calling my number, he dared to go to the other occupied cubicle and start a very nice chat with his partner. They still had the ‘two-laps queue’ of people waiting to be served, but they had to talk that second, or they would forget what they had to say to each other. I wondered if they do it in purpose. I wondered if they would finish all their work if they worked a little faster to serve the costumers; would they have nothing to do the rest of the year and they just didn't want to get bored if it happened? I think that, for talking so much to each other (or maybe, to one another, since there were only two workers during the whole morning I had spent in there, only waiting to be served) they just lose their patience to talk to us and treat us right. Because, yes, we have to wait long hours in queue, some people even have to go home without being served that day, and they don't care. They have to work at that rhythm because they can get sick.

Or maybe they take their condition as a disease. An individual who is invited to work there feels proud of his new job and is quick with the clients:

"How can I help you? Is it just to stamp your declaration? Alright, done! Next! How can I help you? Is it to get a new Taxpayer Card? Alright, just fill these forms, send it by Express Mail and in twelve days you will get your new card at home. Done. Next!"

Unfortunately, the Financial Disease is contagious. The boy starts to feel just a little lazy at first, than he has to slow down his ancient rhythm and it gets worse with time. One month later, he can already present the symptoms of yet another Financial Diseased Worker:

"How can I help you? Are you in a hurry?! If you are, take it easy. We're not supposed to work fast here; everything takes its time. I've already served three people today; am I in a hurry? I'm still here, aren't I? Yeah, that's right; that's right. Now calm down, and tell me what you need..."

Maybe they believe that the disease has no cure and that they can't work faster or it will ruin the reputation of the "Repartição de Finanças". When asked, they will argue that their doctor has already told them to calm down and slow down their pace while working, or they might get hurt badly. They tell their experience after two months of working in there, how they woke up one morning with a tremendous pain on the right side of their body and it doesn't make them able to work fast. They want to be faster and make the costumers happy with the service, but they need to listen to the doctors' advice, don't they?

Well, I got to see the two only workers talk for about thirteen minutes and twenty-five seconds, and during all that time I had the time to think of something hilarious. I think I even laughed for real. I thought if someone had already tried to rob one "Repartição de Finanças"... I can imagine the thief pulling out a plastic gun, because in Portugal the real guns aren't that easy and cheap to get, even illegally, and screaming at the blinding glass:

"Everybody quiet, this is a robbery. Give me all the money and golden jewels you have, NOW!"

I imagine one of the workers lifting his head with their characteristic slow pace and looking through the glass to try and understand who was screaming so loudly and hastily, and why. I imagined him walking closer to the glass with their characteristic slow pace, looking at the burglar, twitching his neck a little to the left to be sure that he was looking at a gun and taking a slow deep breath to finally speak:

"Sir, you will have to wait. Everybody waits in here. Do you have a ticket? You can't be served without a ticket. So please, go get one and get in line. You might have a chance to get what you want today; just have some Financial Patience, please", the worker asked peacefully.

The robber looked puzzled at the scene and the speech that he probably had never heard before, or probably had already heard in too many other "Repartições de Finanças" and was just trying to see if it was exactly the same in all of them. I even think this good-looking yet so unlucky thief might be trying to take a tour through the whole country to try and find an exception, which he will probably find in the last "Repartição de Finanças" he goes to.

This is one of the many examples that came to my mind during those sharp thirteen minutes and twenty-five seconds. After my funny daydream about a failed robbery, I hoped to never get the chance to presence or I would get more five minutes to wait in line. At last, I heard the beep that announced the number of my ticket. Unfortunately, the pocket where I had put the ticket had a stupid hole that I knew was there but never bothered to knit again, and I had to look to the floor of the entire building to try and find it. I was lucky enough to find it just by the feet of the person next to me in line. I picked it up and carried it in my hand (to not lose it again, silly head) to the counter in front of the worker that would get me to my tiptoes with irritation. As soon as I sat down, he excused himself another time, got up and went behind the curtain, telling me that it was the time for his snack break and that, in possible five minutes, I would have another person to serve me with whatever I wanted. I respected his daily schedule and decided I could wait for a little while. After all, I had waited for longer hours on my standing position before that; I could wait while this man was only eating his snack in the 'fun room' that waited for him once again behind the cream curtain.

I tried to see myself in his place. Would I be different? Or would I get infected by the Financial Disease as well? I thought deeply about it...

I got to one conclusion: some people can be exceptions to everything, or they could go with the flow and take a place in the ten million list of people who let themselves accommodate to everything in their lives: the routine in their jobs, the routine in their hobbies, the routine in their marriages, the routine in (just imagine!) their sexual life. I found myself laughing to the space around me, but this time while I was waiting for the man to come back from his snack break, I tried to imagine him married and in the bedroom with his wife.

"How can I help you, Woman? Wait, what are you doing? Oh no, I don't want to see that. Please, dress your blouse again, go get your ticket and wait in line. You even might have a chance to get what you want tonight; just have some Financial Patience..."
March 16th, 2009 at 07:45pm