Our various levels of government need ‘mystery shoppers.’
You know, people assigned to access and deal with various departments and rate them.
But it wouldn’t work. There is no incentive. We have one the largest, most broken systems on this planet. It would stall in committee for the next 50 years.

I’m no further ahead with my dealings with the government than I was when I wrote this.

Yesterday was a major bust. I’m still not fit to be around. Everytime I think I’ve seen the height of obfuscation, apathy, and bureaucracy gone amok, I run into another level. Quelle surprise. Me and 30 million other Canadians.
It was very cold, and since I had to get a piece of paper to them, I figured the walk wouldn’t hurt, so bundled up, in the coldest winter in this area in 40 years, off I went.

(It was -52C last night. I’m typing this with a hat and gloves on.)

Waiting my turn, listening to others, I start to simmer. Citizens are told over and over:

“We need this information, that information…”
“Ok, but I was told…”

My turn came and I asked to speak to the person who had signed the letter.
What occurred next is nothing short of insane.

I was told to go to the phone in the lobby I was in, dial the outside number, go through the voice mail, and punch the numbers for a client representative. (a what??)

The office isn’t that big. I could hear the ‘client representative’ just as clearly off the phone as I could on it. I could hear them speaking to the person who signed the letter to “see if they were available.”

Ok. They ‘aren’t available’. I ask what information is needed on the form.

“It doesn’t meet our criteria.”
“I’ll put that in, and what criteria is that?”
“It doesn’t meet the legislative criteria.”

Hello. Of course it doesn’t, whatever the legislative criteria is. That is why I am here. I took the phone away from my ear and spoke past the front desk to the partitions and people huddled behind them.

“Am I the only person who sees how bizarre this is?”
The silence was deafening.

It got worse. I sorry to say I got worse. The ‘client representative’ starts rhyming off numbers. Numbers and I have had an uneasy existence in my life, and I can only deal with them briefly before some kind of electrical firestorm starts in my brain and I don’t see them or hear them. I have to break numbers down to real things in order to conceptualize.

I do not want to dehumanize as I was being dehumanized. The person on the phone was about 30 feet away, following a set of rules, a line of paper work, charts and graphs with numbers. They couldn’t even use my name.

It’s a profoundly sick way to do a job, and no matter how bad government services get, I will not accept that as a norm. I suggested the person on the phone step out from behind their partition, walk to the reception area and speak face to face. There is safety glass. I’m not going to sneeze or spit on them. There are panic buttons for the staff and anyone who sees the frustrations understand they are needed.

The ‘client representative’ couldn’t or wouldn’t put that phone down and walk 20 or 30 feet to deal with the person who submitted the paperwork and numbers.
Rules I guess.

“Someone in the office” is required to respond to “the client” within 10 days in writing.
Again.
I’ll go in again.
We’ll dance the same dance, and I’ll try to figure out how to change the steps.
My identity and worth isn’t tied up or invested in how my government deals with me, the less I see of the process the better, but ‘we’ are not finished with this.
I can’t fix a system.
As well paid as government employees are it’s a hollow job with a hollow outcome.
Yes.
“We.”
Not the “client.”
Not the “client representative.”
That 20 or 30 feet to the front desk will not be the Grand Canyon. The person on that phone yesterday may not be able or allowed to have that sense of dignity, but this ‘client’ will be damned before I cave into or foster that kind of dehumanizing mentality.