This is a sequel I hoped I would never have to write.
But if you thought for one moment that COVID-19 would appease the German bureaucracy, think again. The good news is, there are fewer bureaucrats out there now, with so many of them being ordered to stay at home or telework. The bad news: the one bureaucrat that is left in the office now has the douche factor of four times the regular bureaucrat, for obvious reasons: somebody needs to carry that flag, and that bureaucrat, if that flag should ever be captured, will not go down easy, and he will fight till the last pen, paragraph and toner cartridge to ensure that the natural order of things is defended and upheld.
Case in point: there's a record I need from the courthouse of a town in Bavaria to go unnamed here - like I'm going to give them any more ammo for their already rigid paragraphs - and, understandably, I don't receive an answer from the person I'm trying to reach. A dozen calls and four or five emails later, all polite, professional and with no evidence of malice whatsoever, and I receive no reply. Okay, I'm thinking, COVID-19. I get it. That's a lot for all of us, even the bulletproof windows the bureaucrats hide behind have received a few dents. Understandable. This might take a while. This isn't business as usual, even for the German bureaucracy.
After email number six, I receive a reply. Sorry, Worldchump, Hans Bureaucrat says, but I am not aware you contacted any of the personnel, so your inquiry is null and void. Never mind that he is actually replying to the whole email chain that is copied in the body of the email, which, in a different world, could serve as a Dear Hans letter. Nope, one solution and only one solution will work here. An official inquiry via snail mail. I send the inquiry off the same day, even with an incredulous headshake. Stamp on it, into the mailbox.
Using the analogy of hell again, I am certain that the receptionist (a German bureaucrat) will change the rules when his new employment location freezes over, but I'm sure there's always less. If there is one tree left on earth and the bureaucrat has the choice between killing the tree or altering the rules, the tree will die, every time. It will be snail mail and a stamp. The evidence in my email was begging them for mercy. Here is the inquiry. Please, please, bitte, bitte. With sauerkraut on top. 21st Century, how about it? But nein, no chance.
I'm trying to be nice to you, German bureaucrats...but. you. won't. let. me.
Anyway, luckily we'll be on the road again soon, with some nice European travel again. No spoilers here.
But if you thought for one moment that COVID-19 would appease the German bureaucracy, think again. The good news is, there are fewer bureaucrats out there now, with so many of them being ordered to stay at home or telework. The bad news: the one bureaucrat that is left in the office now has the douche factor of four times the regular bureaucrat, for obvious reasons: somebody needs to carry that flag, and that bureaucrat, if that flag should ever be captured, will not go down easy, and he will fight till the last pen, paragraph and toner cartridge to ensure that the natural order of things is defended and upheld.
Case in point: there's a record I need from the courthouse of a town in Bavaria to go unnamed here - like I'm going to give them any more ammo for their already rigid paragraphs - and, understandably, I don't receive an answer from the person I'm trying to reach. A dozen calls and four or five emails later, all polite, professional and with no evidence of malice whatsoever, and I receive no reply. Okay, I'm thinking, COVID-19. I get it. That's a lot for all of us, even the bulletproof windows the bureaucrats hide behind have received a few dents. Understandable. This might take a while. This isn't business as usual, even for the German bureaucracy.
After email number six, I receive a reply. Sorry, Worldchump, Hans Bureaucrat says, but I am not aware you contacted any of the personnel, so your inquiry is null and void. Never mind that he is actually replying to the whole email chain that is copied in the body of the email, which, in a different world, could serve as a Dear Hans letter. Nope, one solution and only one solution will work here. An official inquiry via snail mail. I send the inquiry off the same day, even with an incredulous headshake. Stamp on it, into the mailbox.
Using the analogy of hell again, I am certain that the receptionist (a German bureaucrat) will change the rules when his new employment location freezes over, but I'm sure there's always less. If there is one tree left on earth and the bureaucrat has the choice between killing the tree or altering the rules, the tree will die, every time. It will be snail mail and a stamp. The evidence in my email was begging them for mercy. Here is the inquiry. Please, please, bitte, bitte. With sauerkraut on top. 21st Century, how about it? But nein, no chance.
I'm trying to be nice to you, German bureaucrats...but. you. won't. let. me.
Anyway, luckily we'll be on the road again soon, with some nice European travel again. No spoilers here.
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