A national apology
When I started working I thought I’d have to spend a day in some queue waiting to get a social security number. I was wrong. The accountant at the Brooklyn school (the place where I have a contract, as opposed to the places where I work without a contract) took my address and passport number (English or Irish I thought… I went with Irish just for fun). A week later I got a letter from the social security people with my new number and directions to go to the nearest medical centre and register. Oh boy, I thought, that’s where the queue will be. I was wrong again, I’ve just got back from the medical centre, it’s round the corner. The receptionist took my letter and my passport, typed on her computer for a while and then handed me back the letter with a new sticker on it. ‘That’s your doctor,’ She said, ‘This is the phone number. That’s it.’ Yesterday my medical card arrived, no fuss, no messing about, no pointless queuing. I also have a library card, and that took none of the two proofs of address that seem to plague libraries in the UK. That’s probably because they posted it to me. Now, isn’t that a good way to prove your address.
So I apologise unreservedly to all Spaniards for thinking I would be lost in the bowels of beurocracy.
Tags: living
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has anyone asked you how you voted in the lisbon treaty referendum M+D