I STAND corrected. Somewhere between all the “roaming” and “releasing” of my previous piece, I had somehow overlooked “ranting about red tape”.

Sometimes one must, for the sake of maintaining sanity, rant a little. If anything, it helps uncork the negative emotions that slowly get bottled up inside of us as we try to rise above mundane matters like bureaucracy and “extreme efficiency”.

There is so much red tape that you’re willing to get entangled in before you start looking AND acting like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

I would first like to underscore though that I often remind myself that these are merely “first world problems” – sometimes referred to as “white whine.”

The Urban Dictionary defines it as “a complaint made by an over-privileged white person, most commonly an American”. Frankly I think it is too narrow and unjust a definition, as anyone from a privileged background and regardless of colour can be accused of ungrounded whining – when compared to say actual problems like poverty or drought. Yours truly included.

Well, you judge while I vent.

One such incident occurred two Saturdays ago when I went to pick up a friend from the main railway station. As her ticket didn’t cover the tram journey to my place, we proceeded to the ticket machines to get her a one-way ticket that costs ‚2.50. She dutifully inserted a ‚2 and ‚1 coin respectively, and we cheerfully chatted while waiting for the machine to dispense both ticket and change. Well, the ticket came, the change didn’t.

After furiously prodding every button, we headed for the information counter manned by two impassive employees, who then directed us to a take-a-number machine (like at banks or government offices) and instructed us to wait our turn. Mercifully, we were seven beeps away from our 50 cents.

Now at this point you must be saying, “Aiyah! 50 cents only mah! Why the fuss lah?” Well, think about it. This train company in question has been steadily increasing ticket prices from the time I moved here, and yet is notorious for delayed or cancelled trains. How often have I wasted ‚4.10 on a one-way ticket to Frankfurt, only to be informed after that the train had been cancelled? Often enough, I couldn’t wait it out and would then drive into the city and park at some exorbitantly priced parking lot. And trust me, I’m not the only one who does this.

So yes, I egged my friend on, telling her to think of how much profit the company could theoretically make daily if everyone were to think that “it’s only 50 cents.”

So we waited until our number was called and felt almost bashful when explaining our “predicament” to the lady in charge. She then started clicking on various online forms that asked for basic information like name, address and the like. My friend finally had to append her signature to three separate forms and only then did she finally receive a gleaming, newly minted, 50-cent coin. We left triumphant. Nothing could mar our little David vs Goliath moment.

In case you lost the plot at “aiyah”, this entire process took close to 30 minutes, prompting us to indulge in some armchair software engineering. What if it could be simplified? Like say, manufacturing machines that can retain data on faulty ticket or change dispensation, which can then be called up by swiping the said ticket into some tracking system, thus proving the paying passenger’s claim and facilitating swift repayment. Though the need for three signatures despite producing valid photo ID befuddles me.

Two days ago, my debit card was swallowed when I tried to withdraw money at the ATM. I had already faced prior problems using it at certain establishments. I was told that the magnetic strip might be worn out and was advised to apply for a new card.

I was also assured that the present card would remain valid until the new one was issued. However, an over-efficient employee had immediately cancelled it, thus resulting in my current card-less state. Despite the bank’s blunder, I’ll still have to pay the service charge of ‚10 and now wait a week.

Sure these examples may seem trivial in the larger scheme of things. But sometimes you cannot help having higher expectations of communities that tend to set benchmarks for others. And when they fall far short of it themselves, you can either rant or laugh about it.

I find doing both comforting.

> Brenda Benedict is a Malaysian living in Frankfurt. A bar of chocolate – not from a vending machine – often cheers her, too.

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