I don't understand why government employees feel they need to take six hours to do a simple task. Recently I was at Cook County Department of Corrections from 8:30AM to 7PM because the processing of someone took that long. The worst part about the whole day was actually waiting to post bail.
I arrived at 3:30PM and gave the name of the person to the lovely woman - we will call her "Ulga" - that was soon to evolve into a she-devil. She responded with a pointed finger in the direction of a multitude of others milling around and grunted, "Have a seat." I quickly realized the irony of her sentence when I noticed there was nowhere to sit, but on the ground. Begrudgingly I went to a free space along the crowded wall thinking that it would not take too long.
An hour passes and not even a word from the woman behind the desk about anything that is going on. I decide to turn up the charm meter and meander over to just see what the hold up is. As I approach, the slovenly creature turns her head from a conversation she'd been having for the past hour with a colleague whose behemoth size astoundingly dwarfed her elephantine build.
"Papers haven't arrived from court." She snarled. " I will call your name when I process them."
She actually didn't finish the sentence before she spun around to continue her conversation about the previous episode of, appropriately, The Biggest Loser. I was thankful that I had great hearing (and a high metabolism) or I would have hated to have her repeat herself. Walking away I realized that I had not even said a word and she assumed, albeit correctly, that was what I wanted.
During the next couple hours someone was released randomly every thirty to forty minutes, but nothing that even makes a dent in the mass of people waiting their turn to just get to the bond window. The whole time Ulga is chatting away typing at a hypersonic speed of four words a millennium.
After a blistering (yes I actually have blisters on my ass from the tile floor) four hours my name is finally called. Gathering my things I go to the counter, grab the paperwork and proceed to go through the security scanner. (This is the fifth scanner I have been through. There are four check points along a thirty foot walkway with no access anywhere but the beginning and end of the walkway just to get to this building so I am wondering to myself where the hell would I have picked something up along the way that wouldn't be allowed to the freaking bond window!?)
After paying the bail I go to exit the same security scanner and they ask for my ID. Don't even get me started on why I haven't shown my ID through five scans but they want it on the way out of the damn place. With receipt in hand I approach Ulga for what I pray my final time and hand over the receipt.
She recites, "Thank you for paying this bond. The defendant will be released as soon as possible. You are welcome to have a seat and wait or you may leave and wait for the defendant in your car."
Timidly I ask, "What does 'as soon as possible' really mean? Is it worth it to wait?"
Ulga, thrown off from her repetition, looks up and says, "Minimum two hours," and rolls away on her chair.
With that I am gone. Out the door, to the car and on my way home. It is a wonder these people even keep their jobs. If I performed like that at any job I've ever had, even washing cars when I was 17, I would have been fired. But somehow, these government employees are allowed to perform their job while keeping their detached disinterested antagonistic attitudes while serving us, the tax payers who, in a round-about way are paying their salary and, thus, are their true employers.
I arrived at 3:30PM and gave the name of the person to the lovely woman - we will call her "Ulga" - that was soon to evolve into a she-devil. She responded with a pointed finger in the direction of a multitude of others milling around and grunted, "Have a seat." I quickly realized the irony of her sentence when I noticed there was nowhere to sit, but on the ground. Begrudgingly I went to a free space along the crowded wall thinking that it would not take too long.
An hour passes and not even a word from the woman behind the desk about anything that is going on. I decide to turn up the charm meter and meander over to just see what the hold up is. As I approach, the slovenly creature turns her head from a conversation she'd been having for the past hour with a colleague whose behemoth size astoundingly dwarfed her elephantine build.
"Papers haven't arrived from court." She snarled. " I will call your name when I process them."
She actually didn't finish the sentence before she spun around to continue her conversation about the previous episode of, appropriately, The Biggest Loser. I was thankful that I had great hearing (and a high metabolism) or I would have hated to have her repeat herself. Walking away I realized that I had not even said a word and she assumed, albeit correctly, that was what I wanted.
During the next couple hours someone was released randomly every thirty to forty minutes, but nothing that even makes a dent in the mass of people waiting their turn to just get to the bond window. The whole time Ulga is chatting away typing at a hypersonic speed of four words a millennium.
After a blistering (yes I actually have blisters on my ass from the tile floor) four hours my name is finally called. Gathering my things I go to the counter, grab the paperwork and proceed to go through the security scanner. (This is the fifth scanner I have been through. There are four check points along a thirty foot walkway with no access anywhere but the beginning and end of the walkway just to get to this building so I am wondering to myself where the hell would I have picked something up along the way that wouldn't be allowed to the freaking bond window!?)
After paying the bail I go to exit the same security scanner and they ask for my ID. Don't even get me started on why I haven't shown my ID through five scans but they want it on the way out of the damn place. With receipt in hand I approach Ulga for what I pray my final time and hand over the receipt.
She recites, "Thank you for paying this bond. The defendant will be released as soon as possible. You are welcome to have a seat and wait or you may leave and wait for the defendant in your car."
Timidly I ask, "What does 'as soon as possible' really mean? Is it worth it to wait?"
Ulga, thrown off from her repetition, looks up and says, "Minimum two hours," and rolls away on her chair.
With that I am gone. Out the door, to the car and on my way home. It is a wonder these people even keep their jobs. If I performed like that at any job I've ever had, even washing cars when I was 17, I would have been fired. But somehow, these government employees are allowed to perform their job while keeping their detached disinterested antagonistic attitudes while serving us, the tax payers who, in a round-about way are paying their salary and, thus, are their true employers.
No comments:
Post a Comment