bureaucracyMy 3 year old daughter is currently struggling to accept some of the physical limitations of our three dimensional world.  “That tunnel is not tall enough for the train.”  “It was made for one Littlest Pet not eight.”  “Sweetheart, your teddy bear is never going to fit in that play dough pot.”   She will ignore me, keep trying, and eventually hurl whatever it is against the wall in a frustrated fury. I hope it’s just a phase.

What is remarkable is her flat out refusal to accept an obvious reality.  She will continue to struggle long after it’s clear that it’s not going to fit.  Her tenacity is impressive.  It’s also the source of many a nighttime tantrum.  While I don’t want her to ever give up easily, I’d like to spare her the frustration and save her the energy spent fighting against a fact about her world.

As an expat, I should apply this lesson myself.

I’ve lived in Brazil eight and a half years, and I still struggle to accept some facts about life here.  One thing that still makes my face burn is the out of control and invasive bureaucracy.

There is no question too personal for a form and no transaction that does not require one.  The eyeglass store wants your social security number.  The hotel wants your profession.  The dentist wants your race.  Your employer wants to know your blood pressure.

I get around some forms by pretending I’m here temporarily or don’t speak a word of Portuguese, but I couldn’t do this at my former job.

When I began teaching the school asked me to have a medical exam.  When I came back from maternity leave there was another exam and another a year later for every employee at the school.  When I gave notice at the end of last year, human resources asked me to sign several letters saying that I was leaving of my own accord and have another medical exam.

I refused.  As American, an employer requiring a medical exam and making note of the fact you use contraceptives is deeply offensive.  I had done the previous exams because I liked the job, and hey when in Rome…but now I was quitting.  What could they do? Fire me?

There were several meetings with HR during which I nicely refused to accommodate and the HR lady just as nicely said it was mandatory by law.  After checking with a lawyer, I explained sweetly there’s no law requiring a person to submit to a medical exam.  She politely insisted there is.

Eventually I was told it was the union that required the exam.  And speaking of the union, I had to meet with them and have a rep sign off on my paperwork.  Please come back next Tuesday afternoon.

I showed up at the union rep’s office in my school and met a man very disgruntled by my lateness.  The meeting was at 2pm.  It was 2:02 pm.  As he grumbled, he grabbed his keys, my work card, and my paperwork. Below is as faithful a transcription of our conversation as my memory allows.

Me: “Excuse me, are you leaving?”

Man I Have Only Just Met:  “He’s going to wait for us.”

Me: “Who?”

MIHOJM:  “The union Kahuna. (That’s my word because I don’t remember what title the guy really had.)  You were supposed to meet with him at 2pm.”

Me: “Aren’t you the man I’m meeting?”

MIHOJM: “No, the Kahuna has to sign off on your papers, and he’s at the union’s headquarters.”

Me: “Wait. Do we have to drive somewhere?”

MIHOJM: “Yes. We’re going to the union office.”

Me: “Stop.  I’m not leaving.  Give me my work card and documents.  I am not going.”

At that point I had been quitting my job for almost two months.  I was done.  I was out of patience and polite Portuguese.  I unleashed the full force of my direct, low-context American culture on him and I wrapped things up then and there.

I am not going to the union office.  I am not having the medical exam.  I want to quit today.  You are a union officer?  Do you have authority to sign these papers?  Great.  Please, sign them all now.

While I did manage to officially quit, within a Brazilian context, I was a complete asshole to a guy who was just doing his job.  He was acting according to standard practice and then comes this woman who freaks out on him, is blunt to the point of being rude, and very angry.

And I stayed angry.  I complained about the whole process to everyone I met for days.  Hurling my complaints about meaningless bureaucracy against every wall in a frustrated fury.  What did that anger get me?  Well, it used up a lot of my energy, a very precious commodity.  It would have taken a lot less energy to shrug my shoulders.

Somethings you have to accept.  Don’t waste energy being angry about something you can’t change.   Lessons we expats have to learn.  Expats and toddlers.