my journey started in the morning. i needed to get a paper signed from the biggest company which provides electricity in romania. simple procedure.
i went to the local office, the one where i`ve been told i could get the magical ink signed on this paper i had. a lot of people in a small room, trying to pay for their electricity bills. big queues of about 20 people for each of the 3 pay offices that were functioning. “1 hour and a half at least” i tell to myself. but which queue to choose ? i go ask the guard. she tells me i should go somewhere else, at the offices in the back of the building. and so i go.
4 people waiting in line. “now this is what i like”. i started the waiting on my feet, with a straight back and ended it crouched on the floor, with a bored back and a wasted train of thoughts. it took me 2 hours to get into the office of two blond ladies. one of them - obviously the one who was suppose to take my paper - was talking to her mom on the phone. she had just bought a new lamp and was happily sharing all the details of the design with her daughter. the daughter didn`t like it and neither did i, when i had to listen to the description, now brought to me by the blond lady. “i don`t care”. i don`t say it, but nod my head respectfully, hoping that this will get me a prettier signature. wrong i know, i encourage this behavior, but at least i hope i`ll get the job done.
i do. she says she can`t take the paper since they don`t do them anymore. i have to go to the big office in Ion Mihalache. they moved this service i need there .. oh, nobody knew about it ? pity, they should have announced it somewhere. well, good day anyway, young lady. “good lamp to you too”.
and so i go. again.
ion mihalache, big building. 2 guards at the entrance, an information desk, a GT BMW in the back yard, an Audi and 2 other shinny cars. this is my main goal !!! get next to the BMW, which is next to the door that would take me directly into the building. but to get there, i need to pass the security gate which i can only do if i prove to the 2 guards that somebody is waiting for me inside of the building.
how to do this ? i start but telling the woman at the information desk what i`m there for. she says “go to the Contracts desk inside”. i smilingly tell the 2 guards where i go. “who are you going to?”. i don`t know. “please, lady from the information desk … who am i going to?” “Contracts desk ! I told you before ! Are you in love ?”. I am. but this has nothing to do with this paper. “I don`t know who I`m going to.” “We need to find out. We`ll call them”.
One of the guards dials a number. He gives me the receiver. “uhmm.. hello. i have this paper and i need to get it signed for bla bla bla” …. “it`s not me. it`s 541”. “541 please” I tell to the guard who dials the new number. “hello. i have this paper and i need to bla bla bla”. “you`re looking for mariana.” “which number please?” “507”. “507 please”. “hello miss mariana. i have this paper and they ….” …. “589 please” “522”. “55 … i forgot the last number. can we go back to the last one?” “which was it ? ” the guard asks me.” “i don`t know. last one i remember is miss mariana” “ok. we start again from miss mariana. track back this number you forgot. try again. there is no hurry”.
there is no hurry, yes ! also, there is no answer from miss mariana. i`m stuck.
finally, after 5 minutes of waiting for an answer with the receiver pressed to my ear … they start pitying me and let me go inside. “go to 3rd floor. there you`ll find Contracts office”. they are not allowed to do this, they hope i know this, but they are making an exception only because i am nice. oh thank you god for giving me such an attractive physique that allows me to break into Enel`s building !
finally, i`m next to the GT BMW. horrey ! half way there. or so i thought.
3rd floor empty floor. some smokers who are breaking the rule and smoke inside the building. i go ask them who i can talk to to get this paper signed …
it`s not 3rd floor. it`s 2nd floor. miss ioana.
she`s not a miss. she`s more of a mrs. also, she`s pissed off. “what do you need?”. she reads my paper twice. “you didn`t write down the power you request.”
the what ? i don`t know that. “i don`t know that.”
“call somebody and ask.” … “there`s no answer”. “there is always an answer”. she is right. finally, there is an answer. i write the power down. she reads the paper again. she nods.
she writes something on the paper ! a miracle ! finally ! I am jubilating !
“now you have to go to miss Gina at the 3rd floor. then you come back to me.go !”
i go, i go.
3rd floor. i never got to ask mrs. Ioana what desk miss Gina is in … the smokers are gone, i cannot ask the clouds of smoke they left behind. i enter the first office i see in front of my eyes.
“uhm … hello .. is miss Gina here?”
“Yes”.
wonderful. AND she is smiling. A SMILE ! i feel like i can burst into tears and ask for her help. it is only now that i feel how tensed i actually am and how tired. funny, how sometimes a warm smile can make you feel so helpless.
i tell her what i need. she reads the paper. she`s still smiling. then she “ohs”. “ohs” are never good. they mean something is wrong. something is wrong !
she asks for a man`s help. there is this guy and he`s smiling as well. i recognize one of the smokers that led me to mrs. ioana.
he says. “miss, we have a problem. you are not at the right place. this paper is for the outskirts of the town. we don`t take them. these are taken by the small offices. you have to go to office 7”
i can barely mumble “i`m coming from there. they don`t take them anymore. you do !”
“no, we don`t” - “yes, you do”. he frowns. i smile.
everybody in the office is looking at us. finally, he smiles back.
“what should i do with you ?” he`s thinking.
“maybe she should go see miss X” a guy says. “let`s call Y and ask what she has to do” miss Gina suggests. “Let`s send her back to Ioana”
“please not back to Ioana”. they smile.
“let`s call mister B, the director for the outskirts”. and so they do.
they talk to him and he tells them where i have to go and who i have to talk to. they write me the address on a paper and the name of the guy i`m looking for and his phone number. I feel like hugging them.
they are the helping bee and ant from my story. and as good bye they give me a wing. “blow it when you need help, and we`ll be there for you.” which translates to “go to mrs. Ioana and ask her to give you a registration number for this paper. tell her mister Juju sent you if she says anything”.
back to mrs Ioana who is momentarily taking her lunch - polenta and champignons - while talking on the phone. I wait in front of her desk with the paper in my hand. I am hungry and can hear my stomach rumbling and cursing mrs. Ioana`s appetite.
she reluctantly gives my paper a registration number. i do say thank you and good bye on my way to the door. there is no answer.
i pass the BMW again on my way out. this time i despise it. the 2 guards smile all knowingly when i tell them that i have to go somewhere else. it`s that smile that says “no surprise. it can only happen here, in romania”. i hate this smile. it shouldn`t happen here, nor anywhere else.
i`m on the road again.
did u get tired reading or did i get tired walking ?
there is a big building that looks like a deposit. it`s old and grey-ish, with a mouldy feeling of decay. i enter it.
“is mister Gigi here?”.
“no? then, i`ll give him a call and ask him where he is” I say happily. thank you wonderful ants for this helping hand of a phone number. “hello mister Gigi I am here to get this paper signed bla bla … where am i ? right in front of the building. yes, i am wearing a blue skirt. yes, i am holding the paper in my hand. yes, I see you too. Oh, ok, i`m coming on the other side of the building”.
mister Gigi`s office is a very small room filled with cigarette smoke. there is a table in the middle of the room and 5 men that are sitting on its sides, smoking and looking at some plans. I feel like a woman entering Menzonia.they all turn to me an study every inch of skin and cloth.
mister Gigi takes a look at my paper. he doesn`t know what to do with it. he gives a phone call. “oh she`s not in the right place ? she needs to go to mister Vlad. i see … yes, i`ll tell her”. “well miss … ” oh i already now. you don`t have to say anything.
he`s looking at me pitifully. i`m inviting my sweet ass on a chair, next to the other guys in the room. i look and feel helpless.
mister Gigi doesn`t know what to say. he can`t even say “well, now that we know you`re not in the right place, why don`t you just go?”. I sit there on one of mister Gigi`s office chairs and wait. what for i don`t know. the floor cloth in his office is teared apart in the middle of the room. i tell him this. in romanian it would be “vi s-a rupt linoleumul”. he smiles. i smile too. it`s pointless. i feel like crying.
mister Gigi says .. well, you know … i could sign in the place of mister Vlad. “could u?” he could. he does.
he then sends me to another office where i need to get an approval for his signature and a calculation for what i am supposed to pay when all this will be finished, if this ever happens.
he says “you need to see mister Popescu”. this day tought me something - “who do i see if mister Popescu is not there?”. “then you go see mister B, but you only go to him if mister Popescu is not there!”.
i remember mister B.`s name. he`s the one the nice guys called … there is hope.
mister Popescu doesnt` know how to work in the new program that makes the calculations. he wants to send me back to Ion Mihalache headquarters. I don`t want to go. I try to explain him that it is now his job to do the calculations for the outskirts, he says he doesn`t know how to, what can he do if he doesn`t know ?
what can i do ? i desperately exit his office heading for the place i am not supposed to go to, which is what u have to do in Romania, always go where you don`t have to and bother the big guys, who shouldn`t waste their time with your small problems.
mister B is a god ! he askes me where i am coming from and how i got to him. i tell him the story of the blisters on my feet and the signatures on my paper. he smiles. he looks dissappointed. he says he`s sorry i had to go through all this. i heart him instantly.
he puts it all on paper and starts giving phone calls to all the people i`ve been to, trying to find out how can he help me. he even thinks about telling me the sum of money i should give, so that i can decide if i really do want to sign a contract with them, after they approve this paper, which is actually my request to get the chance to sign a contract with them. how ironic, but wow ! i am impressed that he thinks about what i could want !
it`s friday and it`s 15.30 and the people are going home and still, miser B spends another half an hour of his spare time with me, trying to find out if he can sign an okay for the paper that would sum up all the other okays i apparently had to get to consider the paper signed.
he could. if only …. i`d have a registration number on the paper. he looks at me while talking on the phone. do you ? I DOOOOOOO ! this is the bee wing the nice guys gave me. they told me to go get registration number from mrs. Ioana !!!!
he can sign ! and so he does. AND he gives me a phone number i have to call to verify that the paper was registered for real.
i exit his office. i don`t know how i can thank him. he did a job that was not his to do. the job of 3 people. he`s the boss and he helped me .. he invited me to sit next to him at his office and he made phone calls that he needn’t`t have made.
i tell him on my way outside. “you were wonderful, thank you !”. and he looks embarrassed. and i realise that you have to be big to act like you are small, but you are only small when you act like a jerk and consider yourself of the greatest importance. it`s what makes it shitty here. the fear of being small, ordinary, insignificant. the being queen of garbage syndrome.
it was past 4 o clock in the afternoon. the day has passed. the roads were mine to have. the paper mine to almost be signed. and the princess at the end of the story … well, the princess was in a different castle. but it was okay, the journey was all that mattered.
