Our inefficient government bureaucrats, cont.

When we last left our plucky heroine – aka me – I was trudging along to the County Building to meet my fate, or the Board of Appeals as it’s commonly known. Knowing that it would be a long wait, I came prepared, but damn it all if my wheelie bag didn’t keep tipping over. Sigh. I should have known how the day would go when I went up to the 6th floor of what I thought was the County Building, yet found no Room 613. What the hell, our government bureaucracy is so inefficient they can’t even be bothered to put numbers on the doors? Puzzled, I ask a woman in the elevator what’s going on.

Me: Excuse me, do you know where room 613 is?
Woman: Oh, that’s in the County half of the building – you’re in the City half.
Me: You mean this building - that’s all one building - has a magical invisible dividing line down the middle?
Woman: Exactly.

Good thing I remember reading about this odd phenomenon, whereby this one building that takes up a whole block is half county, half city. And by going in the wrong door, I had unwittingly entered the city part. Silly me!

Now that I’m in the right half of the building, I find my room on the 6th floor, and follow the signage to the Board of Appeals room. Finally, let the madness begin.

Me: Hi, I’m early but I have an appointment to....
Woman behind counter, cheerfully yet efficiently: Appear before the Board, right? Not a problem, just hold on a quick second and I’ll be right with you. Sorry for the wait!
Me: Excuse me a minute.

I go back out and look at the door – yep, Cook County Board of Appeals. What’s going on here??

WBC: Okay, let’s see your paperwork....great, just grab a seat and someone will call your name shortly!

Here it is then, the government process we’ve all come to hate and dread: the interminable wait, hours long, as we look at our watches and wonder how much in parking fees this will cost - somewhat akin to watching paint dry on grass as it grows. I slump over to a chair with my wheelie, and start tugging out my copy of War and Peace – in the original Russian, of course. I’m sure I’ll have time to plow through at least several hundred pages of it, which would mean I’d be about 5% done with it, and the.......

Guy: Tasha Huebner?

Me, startled: What? Who, me? You must mean a different Tasha, don't you?
The guy looks at me like I’m slightly unstable, but still responds chipperly and efficiently: Nope, there’s only one of you! (thought bubble over his head: thank god...) Come this way! You’re meeting with that guy sitting right over there.

Aha! Here’s where the bureaucratic part begins. I lived in the former Soviet Union for a few years, I know how these things work. Damn, why didn’t I bring a bottle of vodka as a bribe? I could be here for days, as he "pretends" to work!



Desk guy: Hi, how are you! So glad you came in, have a seat.
Me, resigned: So I have this paperwork but it’s probably not what you need and...
DG: Great! Let’s take a look here. Comps, perfect. All these listings, great. And pictures! Terrific! Though I’ll let you in on a little secret – nowadays you don’t even have to take pictures – you can just use the ones we have on our website.
Me: But that’s just the front of the house. You don’t need pictures of my crappy garage compared to this beautiful double-decker one with roof deck? See, look how my garage is falling apart, made in the Polish style by having pieces of plywood tacked on willy-nilly.
DG, cheerfully: Nope, not necessary! So you can save money by not taking pictures and use it on a bottle of wine!
Me: O.....kay then, but...
DG: And I’ll tell you something else, that’ll save you time next time. See, you can check this little box on the form and then you don’t even have to come down here – we’ll file the appeal for you!
Me: Seriously? So I could avoid all this and save money on parking?
DG: Exactly! We do that also so that folks don’t have to come down here in the winter, especially the older people, and deal with the snow and ice and everything that can be dangerous. Plus how expensive it is to come down here these days.
Me: O....kay then....
DG: But make sure you keep filing these appeals – you want to get whatever savings you can! Okay, we’re all set, now just wait over there and then you’ll speak to the Appeals person. Good luck!

I feel like I’ve just entered some form of BizarroWorld, or maybe Oz. Yeah, that’s it, the Land of Oz. When do the flying monkeys attack?

As I’m walking the less than 10 feet over to the chairs by the side of the room, no fewer than 2 people look at me, smile, and also wish me luck. This is really bizarre. I’m starting to think that because this is more or less the last step in the appeals process, they must figure that the folks who pursue it to this degree are batshit crazy or poor or both, and need to be handled vewwy vewwy carefully. Either that or, like a restaurant critic, my fame precedes me. Yeah, maybe that's it.

I wait for a minute or two, during which time DG has come over to chat with me some more and wish me luck, again, and then someone grabs my file and sends me over to the Appeals person. I am positive that now is when the bureaucratic process will kick me in the teeth. Positive. She’s a stern-looking black woman, and aren’t all stern black women angry yet inefficient? Isn’t that the government way?

SBW: Hello, and how are you doing today?
Me, suspiciously: Fiiii...ne, and how are you?
SBW: Just great, thanks! Okay, let’s take a look at what you have here. Comps, pictures, great, looks like everything is in order.
Me: Do you want more pictures, of, say, my crappy falling-apart garage?
SBW: Let’s see – no, these are fine.
Me: Oh, and here are pictures of my yuppie neighbors’ house that I threw in there – the house is a different style, but it’s a gut-rehabbed place that they have on the market for $1.3M, and mine is a dilapidated 2-flat.
SBW: Oh, that’s just not right. Okay, we’ll include that. Now, what I’ll do is go to my computer later and look up more comps so that you have more data in your file. We want to get your assessment back down to where you should be!
Me: Bu...bu.......
SBW: And you should hear back from us within 4-6 weeks, and if you don’t, or if you have any questions, just call us any time at the number that’s on your assessment form. Or here, take my card, you can also call me directly.
Me: Bu....bu......you.....I.......can I just tell you how great you all are? Seriously! You know, with this health care reform, people keep talking about how inefficient and horrible government is, but you’re all wonderful, and then compare that to the idiots I talk to at BCBS about the bills for The Cancer!
SBW, whispering: It’s true, people don’t understand shit about those kinds of things until they have to deal with insurance. Oops, I shouldn’t say things like that.
Me: But it’s true!
SBW: You have cancer? I hope you’re in remission – that’s tough, my grandmother dealt with cancer, but she’s doing well now.
Me: Oh, I’m glad to hear that.....

At this point, I’m ready to invite my new BFF Shani over for some bundt cake and tea as well – hell, at this rate, I should buy stock in a Bundt Cake Emporium or something. We finish chatting and I walk out of there grinning, just because everyone’s been so damn nice, then I thank the nice people at the front counter, make my way out of the building, and see that it’s.......2:50? That took half an hour total? I decide to get a celebratory bagel from Dunkin Donuts, but the one I pass on the way to my car is inexplicably closed. So I just get my car from the garage - $10 – and am on my way. No flying monkeys......yet. I remain alert.

219!!

I'm sure I'll have more to say at some point about health care reform, but for now, there's just......jubilation. And relief, that the Dems managed to get it together long enough to pass this. Pride, that the U.S. will no longer be the only developed country that doesn't ensure health care for all its citizens, not just the wealthy. Tears, for Jen and Kristine and all the others who died while trying to get medical treatments that their insurance companies denied. Hope, that that'll be less likely to happen in the future.



And my usual two words for the Republicans: suck it.

Another placeholder post

Okay, so I know I have to catch up on things here, what with my story on The Day Tasha Almost Got Herself Arrested at the Federal Building, to my update on Whereupon Tasha Almost Got Mowed Down By a Runaway Pickup Truck in the Bucolic Town of Eagle, WI. Suffice it to say that I believe there's a proverbial key to the city being made for me as we speak. So there's all that.

And I know everyone here in this great Blogosphere of ours is waiting with bated breath to find out who the winner was in my first-ever brain tumor poll. Of course, in conducting this poll I used the finest research methodologies as taught to me at Wharton, excellent institution that it is. So that means I plotted out the variables, calculated the R-squared, looked for the resultant patterns - though I must say, everything wanted to default to the dreaded "swarm of bees" configuration. Then, I put everyone's names on a slip of paper, all the people who had told me they voted and my blog followers, and I just reached into a hat and picked one at random. Of course the hat in question was the Fuck Cancer hat, so that made it especially scientific. Yes, this is the kind of academic rigor I'm known for, folks. An inspiration to many.

In any case, it turns out that my winner was none other than.....Miz Laura! Who I immediately called with the good news, and even though it was 3AM, I could tell by the jubilation in her voice just how excited she was:

Laura: "Huh? What? Who? Who the hell are you again?"

Ah yes, the typical confusion under such circumstances, of those who can scarcely believe their good fortune.

So what with that done and with Laura soon to be receiving her very own Fuck Cancer hat, my epicly long blog posts will return, but in the meantime, I present you this, which pretty well sums up exactly what I myself say when anyone around me dares to utter the words "Joe Lieberman"......

Al Franken, American hero

So I was having a few 'nogs tonight, relaxing, toodling around on the internets in between catching some of SNL's Christmas skit special and chuckling at the "lost scenes" to It's a Wonderful Life (George Bailey, about Mr. Potter: "hold him down while I kick him, Mare!"). And what should I find, which I liken to Christmas Miracle #2? Something we thought we'd never see in this lifetime?

Yes, it's someone actually having the balls (finally!) to tell Joe Lieberman to just shut up already. Or at least in the Senate, where members of Congress are allowed to pontificate for hours on end, one "honorable" senator after another, this was the equivalent of him being told "hey Joe, STFU, okay?"

The paragon of spinehood who shut this weasely little bastard down was none other than Al Franken. Al, you were great on SNL, and you're even better now. Thank you, from a grateful people (person) who think(s) sniper fire is too good for Joe "Aetna" Lieberman.




By the way, who's the clown who voted for the "brain tumor" option in the fricking poll?? I thought we had agreed that no one would dare jinx me like that! If I *do* have a brain tumor, it'll be on your head, you cretin. And if you win, you won't be getting the Fuck Cancer hat, oh no. No, it'll be the...the.....the plushie brain for you instead. Yeah, that's it. So there!

And for inquiring minds who want to know the status of FBE, no, it's not better. It's gotten worse, actually, and it's driving me a bit over the edge, quite frankly. Hence the nog. I still don't think it's anything other than a mysterious eye ailment, but if that's the case, why can't they figure that out? I mean, what are we, in Ukraine, where the answer to every health problem is some combination of vodka, honey, and raspberry jam? And I'm not even making that up. Though come to think of it, hmm, they might be on to something.....