I love Spain. I really love Spain. Spain is a fantastic place to live. Most of the time that is. It’s great until you want to do something that isn’t day-to-day stuff.
I am (hopefully) about to embark on yet another new business venture or call it a get-rich-quick scheme if you’re cynical like my lovely wife. The poor girl’s glass is always half-empty. She says it has to be to curb my over-enthusiastic bull-at-a-gate mentality.
I know if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Time will tell.
The new venture involved opening a new bank account. I went into a bank in the village – I won’t name it but it’s located opposite Frankie & Louisa’s. Everyone seems to sing the praises of this bank and I went in last Wednesday to make my initial enquiry. There’s a lovely blonde girl who works in there who was extremely pleasant and helpful. She told me it would take me ten minutes to open the new A/C. She lied bless her.
I had one or two t’s to cross and i’s to dot before I committed to the new bank but went back later that day to do the deed.
I had to produce my passport and NIE paperwork (Spanish red tape) and Blondie realised my NIE had gone out of date last October. Bugger. She said that it didn’t matter but to renew it ASAP and take the renewed document in to the bank. Fair enough. I also ordered a piece of equipment, without which I cannot start the new “job”. A couple of days she told me for the new IT stuff to be fitted to my home PC.
I know that a couple of days meant three or four so I waited four days before going back to the bank to pester. Hello Steefen, I was greeted with. Where’s my new piece of equipment, I asked.
Spanish red tape now reared its ugly head – you can’t have it until you obtain your new NIE. It’s very difficult to become angry with an attractive blonde girl but I managed it. You’ve just wasted me four fucking days I ranted – managing to rattle the windows with my bellowing. I then stormed around the bank, knocking things off desks, scattering leaflets, picking up chairs and smashing them against the wall. what a mess I made – there were telephone, screens, files, folders and papers scattered everywhere. People were cowering in corners. The drinking water machine was slowly glugging its contents all over the floor. Total bloody carnage.
Oh no. Er…. hang on a minute…
That’s what I wanted to do – instead I just said I was really angry and disappointed. I received the Spanish shrug as a response. The Spanish shrug is not quite as good as the French one – I don’t think they’ve been doing it as long.
I now have to renew my Padron (more red tape) and then renew my NIE. The first task is accomplished in the village bu the second means a trip to the huge metropolis of Murcia. These trips into the region’s capital are fraught with danger and quite often end up with steam coming out of someone’s ears – mine normally. The last time MLW and I went on a similar excursion to Murcia I was “spoken to” by one of the security guards (true).
As I said in my opening paragraph – Spain is a great place to live as long as you’re buying a tin of beans.