A Day At A Time.

By ElCid

Straw Dog

Spain's banking system is unique, I am sure.

I went to register my identification with the bank, as without it my cards would cease to work.

They already had.

So I duly arrived at 8:25 to find a few other early hopefuls hanging around on the pavement. There was some activity inside the bank, so we thought the doors might open promptly.

They did not. But eventually we were ushered in and we sorted ourselves out into a queue in as near the order in which we arrived as possible. To have inadvertently jumped the queue would have initiated a heated and angry debate.

After some 15 minutes wait, I arrived at the front and explained in my best Spanish why I was there. He said "¡No!" and told me I needed to see his colleague, indicating a vacant chair behind an empty desk. His colleague was having his breakfast and would return in about 20 minutes. "Más o menos", which is never a good sign.

I did get my business sorted, but why I thought it would be a simple matter, I cannot imagine. How long have I lived here now?

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