one of them took any notice of me. At last one asked me in a surly manner what I was looking for without, however, waiting for my reply. He just went on with his conversation with his neighbour. Another of his colleagues was in more obliging mood and inquired what I wanted. When I told him, a severe look appeared on the yellowing, wrinkled skin of his face. He took a couple of puffs from his long pipe then pointed with it at the next room and said, ‘In there.’
There was a sign on the door, Do Not Knock , and ‘in there’ was a man asleep. Yes, no joking, I had to clear my throat three times before signs of life began to return to the completely inert pose of the Thinker. I was subjected to a brief scrutiny full of majestic contempt and a rasping voice asked, ‘What do you want? Have you been summoned? What papers have you got with you?’
He was by no means as curt as the messengers outside. On the contrary the information came gushing out. ‘To receive an invitation to an audience you need, apart from your certificates of birth, baptism and marriage, your father’s school-leaving certificate and your mother’s confirmation of vaccination. In room 16, down the corridor on the left, you must give details of your financial situation, education and any decorations you have been awarded. A character reference for your father-in-law is desirable but not absolutely essential.’
At that he gave me a condescending nod, bowed his head low over his desk and started to write–without dipping his pen in the ink, as I could see. I stood there, dumbfounded. I could thank my lucky stars I didn’t have to present all my receipts as well! In some embarrassment I stuttered, ‘I’m afraid it may well be impossible for me to provide the required documentation. All I have is my passport. I came here as a guest of Herr Patera, my name is so-and-so.’
When I had finished I had the shock of my life. The aloof figure suddenly leapt up from his seat. ‘But of course! Your name is already on the list. I will take you to His Excellency immediately.’
He was politeness itself. A dual personality? I couldn’t understand it.
We set off on an endless trek through dreary corridors, offices where clerks started at our arrival, as if caught in some nefarious act, bare reception rooms and closets filled to the ceiling with documents and files. Finally we came to a large waiting room where all sorts of people were sitting around. My guide and I were immediately admitted to a kind of inner sanctum. His Excellency was there alone, at his desk, waiting . Despite his elegant bows, the poor official had a few harsh words to hear before he disappeared.
His Excellency was a very superior being. You could tell that from his surroundings alone, but not only from them. There were striking things about his person as well. There was, for example, a lot of gold sewn on to his clothes and a long row of all kinds of ribbons pinned to his jacket. As well as that he wore a broad red sash across his chest. Whether there were further symbols of rank on his body I could not say for sure. Probably there were, but I never saw them.
We were alone. In contrast to all the others in the Archive, he was very friendly. After he had heard me out, he was the soul of courtesy. ‘But of course, my dear sir, of course’, he said. ‘The ticket will be sent off to you immediately.’ Then, as if someone had pressed a button, he stood up and started to address a non-existent audience:
‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen! In the interest of public welfare and our reputation the government fully accepts its responsibility. I will not hesitate to urge all your petitions at the highest level. In questions of welfare provision for the poor you can always be assured of a sympathetic hearing from me. Our immediate goal is to develop the theatre here to its full potential. I hope I can reply on your energetic support in this enterprise. Our experiences in introducing decontrol to
There was a sign on the door, Do Not Knock , and ‘in there’ was a man asleep. Yes, no joking, I had to clear my throat three times before signs of life began to return to the completely inert pose of the Thinker. I was subjected to a brief scrutiny full of majestic contempt and a rasping voice asked, ‘What do you want? Have you been summoned? What papers have you got with you?’
He was by no means as curt as the messengers outside. On the contrary the information came gushing out. ‘To receive an invitation to an audience you need, apart from your certificates of birth, baptism and marriage, your father’s school-leaving certificate and your mother’s confirmation of vaccination. In room 16, down the corridor on the left, you must give details of your financial situation, education and any decorations you have been awarded. A character reference for your father-in-law is desirable but not absolutely essential.’
At that he gave me a condescending nod, bowed his head low over his desk and started to write–without dipping his pen in the ink, as I could see. I stood there, dumbfounded. I could thank my lucky stars I didn’t have to present all my receipts as well! In some embarrassment I stuttered, ‘I’m afraid it may well be impossible for me to provide the required documentation. All I have is my passport. I came here as a guest of Herr Patera, my name is so-and-so.’
When I had finished I had the shock of my life. The aloof figure suddenly leapt up from his seat. ‘But of course! Your name is already on the list. I will take you to His Excellency immediately.’
He was politeness itself. A dual personality? I couldn’t understand it.
We set off on an endless trek through dreary corridors, offices where clerks started at our arrival, as if caught in some nefarious act, bare reception rooms and closets filled to the ceiling with documents and files. Finally we came to a large waiting room where all sorts of people were sitting around. My guide and I were immediately admitted to a kind of inner sanctum. His Excellency was there alone, at his desk, waiting . Despite his elegant bows, the poor official had a few harsh words to hear before he disappeared.
His Excellency was a very superior being. You could tell that from his surroundings alone, but not only from them. There were striking things about his person as well. There was, for example, a lot of gold sewn on to his clothes and a long row of all kinds of ribbons pinned to his jacket. As well as that he wore a broad red sash across his chest. Whether there were further symbols of rank on his body I could not say for sure. Probably there were, but I never saw them.
We were alone. In contrast to all the others in the Archive, he was very friendly. After he had heard me out, he was the soul of courtesy. ‘But of course, my dear sir, of course’, he said. ‘The ticket will be sent off to you immediately.’ Then, as if someone had pressed a button, he stood up and started to address a non-existent audience:
‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen! In the interest of public welfare and our reputation the government fully accepts its responsibility. I will not hesitate to urge all your petitions at the highest level. In questions of welfare provision for the poor you can always be assured of a sympathetic hearing from me. Our immediate goal is to develop the theatre here to its full potential. I hope I can reply on your energetic support in this enterprise. Our experiences in introducing decontrol to
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