I’m Going to Burn Down a Spanish Police Station!

Disclaimer: No, not really. It’s far to rainy here for anything to effectively catch fire.

My dears, Jeannette is still in the process of getting her TIE (Spanish Green Card). That process has hit a snag, one known as “the Pontevedra extranjeria* is staffed by morons.” And yes, this is a two-part saga of incompetence.

Part One: I received a phone call last week commanding my presence at the police station, at my earliest convenience. My earliest convenience was last Friday. Which was the Friday following my house-warming party. Yeah…
Naturally, I was really hungover when my alarm went off at 8:30 a.m. However, I am stubborn and will not be defeated by wine-hangovers! I made it onto the bus to Pontevedra, barely. (Worst. Bus ride. Ever)
Upon my arrival in Pontevedra, I found the police station while both hating the sun and hating mornings. I went inside and tried to psych myself up for a long wait. And then I saw the sign…NO HAY MAS NUMEROS HOY. No more numbers today. My brain took a long second to process what the hell this meant. And then…
Shit…No fucking way. It was far too early for them to have stopped serving people. And there wasn’t anyone waiting in line.
What. The. Hell?
Lucky for my hungover self, a nearby bureaucrat explained: there was no one to staff the foreigners’ office today. Nope, not a single person. I’d have to come back on Monday.

<insert cursing, bad tempered ranting about bureaucracy>

Part Two: Monday morning, I hauled my sleepy self down to Pontevedra, AGAIN. Got to the police station sans hangover and was greeted by the following: about 15 people waiting in line, and that fucking sign, NO HAY MAS NUMEROS HOY. Translation: if you arrive after we stop giving out numbers, you are fucked.
Oh hell no, I was not going to waste another day.
So I found the ever-so-useful person from the other day and asked her what the hell was going on. She admitted that they were going slow today and that if I waited, MAYBE they could get to me after everyone else. I waited, fumed, and made friends with another American stuck in the same mess.
90 minutes later, I was still waiting. And then the guy next to me apparently decided he had better things to do with his life and left. Leaving me his number and the hope of actually doing something productive with the morning. Score!
Yeah, my good mode lasted 10 minutes, until I actually got to talk to the bureaucrats. They promptly (lies, it took them 15 minutes) informed me that an official document of awesomeness (called a resolución) wasn’t in my folder. Or anywhere else. And that the only person EVER who could reprint and restamp this mystical paper was out sick. Indefinitely.
Very apologetically, the bureaucrats ask if this is terribly inconvenient for me.

Yes, fuckers–I don’t come down here cause I’m bored! And more importantly, no I’m not worried about being deported due to your stupidity. I’m worried about not getting paid!

Oh really? That’s too bad, but we can’t do anything until Sick Supervisor comes back. We’ll call you when that is. It should be less than 8 days…

Yeah, I need that paper in 48 hours.

One phone call to my principal later, I had him on the phone with the bureaucratic morons. I don’t know what was said, but it took 25 minutes and got HIM nowhere. Except for the fact that my school is going to move heaven and earth to make sure I get paid on time.
So…Not a complete disaster, but I am still going to take out my rage on the Spanish government somehow. Plotting, plotting, plotting…

 

*extranjeria=foreigners’ office at the police station

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