Absurdity On Absurdity

Those damn bureaucrats. Their love of rules have supplanted common sense and judicious human interaction.

I applied for my Indian visa yesterday. The Indian Consulate's website is an overlay of texts. That is, their web master screwed up with the text display so several sets of information are displayed in the same space. I viewed the page on a Mac, then on a PC. Same thing. What instructions I could extract was confusing. One of the instructions was to send the application form in by mail or courier.

I went to deliver my application. At reception, a fat man was on the phone. A real courier got off the elevator and joined the wait. The man on the phone ignored us. His phone manners and tone suggested haughty arrogance. Ignorance and arrogance, a lethal combination that will bring a bad end. A woman then came into the reception cubicle. I pushed my envelope through the slot.

"Are you a courier?" she asked.

"I am delivering it."

"I can't accept this. You have to mail it in or courier it in."

"I am my own courier."

"I need to sign for it and have a tracking number."

"But I am delivering this so I know you have received it. I won't need to track it."

"I still need a tracking number to record it in my book."

"You need a number? Here, I can make one up for you right now and you can sign here to acknowledge receipt."

"Madam, we won't accept this from you," she shouted angrily and marched away to the far end of the cubicle to get away from me.

The courier submitted his package and the man on the phone signed for it. I started to cause a scene when a group of consulate staff came out. Perfect, I thought, I could create a really big scene. Then better judgement kicked in. They could tag me and deny me visa. Or they could grant me visa and make sure I meet up with an accident in India. And I would feel more exasperated if she still doesn't accept my delivery, after having done all that emoting and expended all that energy creating a scene. So I got into the elevator with the courier to go back down.

I asked the courier to deliver my envelope for me. He was sympathetic and offered to give me a blank way bill so The Man could pretend to be a courier to deliver my envelope. I wouldn't be able to go back and act like a courier because the woman at reception had already seen me. We had a good laugh over the ludicrousness of the consulate policy. After talking with him about how to fake being a courier, I decided I couldn't put him in a compromising position by using his way bill. So I offered to hire his service the proper way.

He placed a call to his company. After sorting out with the dispatcher I really did want my envelope picked up and dropped off at the same address, that the driver was already with me, that I really would pay for this one-hour service, she charged me $24 for the courier run. All this so the stupid woman at reception can stick to her policy and cover her ass. With bureaucracy like that, no wonder the poor have no property rights in India.

Now I am really mad at the Consulate-General of India in Toronto. It's not good to get me mad because I am not pure of heart. I don't like people and situations that bring out the worst in me and remind me just how petty and base I can be. (That's why I loved The Exchange; he brought out the best in me.) I wish ill on those who piss me off. Fie, fie and death to you, woman at reception. I am now even thinking of becoming a racist. This is not pretty.