Friday, September 30, 2011

Any Old Registry Office / Rebeca Monzo

Any Old Registry Office / Rebeca Monzo
Rebeca Monzo, Translator: Espirituana

The Registry Offices on my planet have become human concentrations or
people's saunas. The long lines overflow to the outside of the building,
most of them ending on the street, sidewalks and curbs, where those who
aspire to be assisted hang around, waiting for the hoped-for moment. At
lunch time, the office is closed and everyone must leave and wait
outside. It should be noted that so far none of these sites has a
computerized database.

None of them provides enough seats to accommodate everyone; insufficient
ventilation is guaranteed. Of course, there is an exception that
confirms the rule: the Central Havana Registry – perhaps the only one
that works well, based on my personal experience.

I think I have visited almost all of them in the capital, including the
one in Santiago de las Vegas, which like all of their species are
located in houses and apartments, abandoned for several decades by their
former owners and later by the State, which took possession of them
without giving them any maintenance in all these years (including
cleaning them).

The people who work there do not enjoy appropriate working conditions
and generally display a very bad temper. They do their work as if they
were doing a great favor to the applicant, even making an effort so that
it will not go unnoticed. This forces many users to arrive at the place
bearing some small gift. If not, sit down and wait! In the end, whether
they do their work well or badly, they will receive the same meager salary.

After waiting for more than three hours to be helped, I was able to
notice one of the possible causes of the delay: the long silicone nails,
green and with small raised flowers, of the employee who took care of
the applications. It was to be expected that she would take more than
twenty minutes with each short four-line form to be filled out, in
addition to the innumerable times that she would leave her work station
for just a moment, to go deal with some small matter in another
department, and not taking into account the friends who are allowed to
go first, cutting into the line.

I was finally provided with a copy of my application on a recycled piece
of paper, written exactly on the previously printed side, almost
illegible, but even so I left the place relieved, and even happy to have
been able to file my application.

Translated by: Espirituana

September 25 2011

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