Baboons and Bureaucrats
Kenneth Szulczyk
All characters, places, and situations that appear in this work are purely fictitious, created in the writer's mind. Although the places in the novel do exist, any resemblance to real people - living or dead - are entirely coincidental.
Baboons and Bureaucrats
Copyright ? 2014 by Kenneth Szulczyk
All rights reserved
Cover design by Kenneth Szulczyk
***
My friends and I head to the local coffee shop, walking down the sidewalk with the spring sun shining above us while a cool breeze pushes against us.
My friends approach a patio table with an umbrella in front of the coffee shop. They reshuffle and push the chairs around the table. Then they begin sitting down.
"I'll grab the coffees," I call to the group.
Jeff answers, "And add extra sugar and cream to mine."
I open the door that rings a dangling chime as I enter.
I approach the counter.
The barista leaves the kitchen and approaches the other side of the counter.
"Ah, you must be new," I said.
She smiles and adds, "I just started yesterday."
"I'm a regular, so you'll see me around. I think this place is almost my second home."
She smiles again and adds, "Well welcome home, stranger. How may I help you?"
"Four medium cappuccinos - one with extra sugar and cream. The others are regular."
She rings up the order, "That'll be eighteen fifty."
I slide the wallet out of my back pocket and slip the credit card from one of the slots. Then I pass the card to the barista.
She studies the credit card and looks up at me, and asks, "I'm sorry, but I need to see your ID, sir. I hate to do this to you, but I don't know you yet, even though this is your second home."
"No problem. I'm happy you've asked. You know - with all the identity theft and stuff going around."
I pull my driver's license from the wallet and hand it to her.
She holds the credit card in one hand the driver's license in the other. Her eyes move from one to the other. Then she holds up the license and compares the license's photo to me.
I smile and wave my right hand a little.
She returns the driver's license and slides the credit card into the machine.
Then she adds, "I see your driver's license is about to expire."
"Oh, shoot. I knew I have been forgetting something."
I glance at the expiration date and see my license is valid for another two weeks. Then I slip the license back into my wallet.
"You may want to go early. My brother just renewed his driver's license and he said it was a nightmare. He said they acted like bunch of dumb apes down there, at the license bureau."
"Apes, huh."
The machine spits out the receipt.
She hands me the credit card. Then she tears the receipt and passes it to me with a pen?
***
The alarm buzzes at 8 AM.
I reach over and push the snooze bar. Then I roll to my left side, and reposition the blankets.
After a minute, I jerk my legs and roll over and force myself out of bed as a thought flashes through my mind - I must go and renew my license. I grab a towel and head to the bathroom for a shower. Luckily, I have a day off from work and can make the trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles, or DMV for short. I keep thinking - that stupid trip to the DMV - dumbass motherfucking Van-Dycks.
After showering and dressing, I approach the desk and begin searching for my birth certificate. I slide one desk drawer open, shuffle papers around in the drawer, and sort through the stacks. Then I close it. After approaching the bottom drawer, I spot it at the bottom under a stack of utility bills. Then I grab a recent credit card bill from the top desk drawer and slide the documents into a folder.
I head to the kitchen and place a coffee cup in the Nestle Gusto. I grab any coffee cartridge, plop it into the machine, add water, and push the magic button, and the machine buzzes to life. Then I pop a bagel into the toaster. After minutes, the toaster spits the bagel out, and I lather a thick layer of cream cheese onto it and wrap it in a napkin. Then I grab the folder, bagel, and coffee cup and head out the door, starting my trip to the DMV.
I drive slowly and rationally to the DMV while eating my bagel and sipping my coffee. As I pull up to the plaza, I see the parking lot is filled with cars. I glance at my watch - 9 AM exactly.
I park the car and jog to the front door of DMV. Before opening the door, I see a long line of people standing. "Damn," I utter under my breath. Every time I come here, the lines become longer and move slower.
I open the door and stand in line in the last position, fidgeting, glancing at my watch every several minutes, glancing at the sea of faces around me.
About every five minutes, I move a step forward.
After an eternity, I reach the help desk.
An old lady stands there, staring at me blankly. She does not smile, blink, or yawn.
I state in my happy voice, "I'm here to renew my driver's license."
She snaps, "Let's see your documents."
I pull the birth certificate and a credit card statement from the folder and hand it to her. Then I slide my wallet from my back jean's pocket. I open it and slip the driver's license out and hand it to her.
She places the documents on the counter and studies each document as her index finger traces through all the information. Then she pushes the documents towards me. "The date on your birth certificate is too old. You must get a new birth certificate that is issued within one year from today's date."
"What?" After the information sinks into my mind, I ask, "Are you seriously? When I renewed my driver's license two years ago, I used this same birth certificate. I had no problems then," pleading with her with my sad voice.
"The Motor Vehicles has updated its procedures to renew a driver's license. You must bring a recent birth certificate."
Then she pushes a checklist printed on light blue paper across the counter.
I glance at her, smirk, and shove the checklist into my jacket pocket.
I remember the barista's comments and read about baboons' behavior. The first rule pops into my mind - Baboons are very clever. When a baboon faces a choice - the easy way or the hard way, they always choose the easy way. The baboons chase all the distractions away so they can sit and socialize with the other baboons. The bureaucrats show no concern. They scare people away permanently by forcing them to fill out complicated forms or spotting every tiny error on their documents, demanding the people to redo them.
I grab my documents, run to my car, and rush to the courthouse downtown.
I enter the building and study the Directory.
I become confused over the numerous department names: Family Court, Circuit Court, Misdemeanor Court, and so on, and so on until ad nauseam. Finally, I spot the office I need - Court Clerk, Office 401.
Another fact about baboons pops into my mind. Rule 2 - Baboons create complicated, hierarchical societies. Every baboon precisely knows their position in the hierarchy, and which apes control and lead the herd.
I run up the stairs to the fourth floor and burst through the door.
All heads turn to watch me as I enter.
The old office building has a mildew-smell lingering in the air, which is common in the south. The immense humidity during the summer rots and molds everything that it touches. Then I realize I came across Rule 3. Baboons can adapt themselves to any environment and any habitat - whether they occupy a desk in a brand new office building with fresh paint and new furniture, or sit in old condemned buildings or in the dusty back rooms of factories, or offi
ce cubicles arranged in a maze. They sit at their desks counting everything they see - the number of beans in a jar, the quantity of staples in a stapler, or the number of wood shavings in a pencil sharpener. They scrutinize every document, searching for i's with missing dots or t's missing their crosses.
Then an elderly woman strolls to the counter. She bears a resemblance to the old lady at the DMV - a relative perhaps. I'm amazed because all baboons look like. - a cold, calculated stare, the long snout, the sharp, yellowing teeth, the puffy cheeks, and hair sticking up in wild clumps. They all come from the same gene pool.
I approach the counter and remove my documents from the folder.
After reaching the counter, she asks, "May I help you."
"I need to get a new birth certificate," I said. I pause to catch my breath and add, "They told me at the DMV that I needed a birth certificate that is dated within a year of today's date."
"Oh, the DMV changed its rules. We've been getting many requests lately."
Then she pushes a form across the counter, "Please, fill this out."
I rotate the document and examine the first page, skimming through all the questions and blank lines.
I chuckle and add, "It's like you want my whole life history. I don't see religious affiliation, or whether I forgot to return all my library books when I was a kid."
She raises one eyebrow and enlarges her eyes showing the whites. Apparently, my joke does not amuse her.
Then I remember Rule 4 about baboons. They show displeasure by raising their eyebrows and showing the whites of the eyes.
I close my mouth and grab a pen, and start filling in those
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