Where do you come from?

A few times in a person's lifetime does he meet another which makes him thinks why certain people exist in the first place. Today was one such day for me, also a day which made me think whether working for the government does indeed make you lose all logic and reasoning. I had travelled, in the freezing cold, form Stuttgart all the way to Karlsruhe to document myself and satisfy the german bureaucratic monster which lives by filing name and address of people written on some officially looking, but quite useless until you murder someone, piece of paper.

The job at hand was fairly simple, for me and for the government slave. Go there, flash some ID, write name and address on a piece of paper, sign, get out. Simple? I wish. I went in there, usual greetings exchanged and flashed the ID and stated my purpose. Change of address. Here's what happened.

me: "i need to change my address from Stuttgart to Karlsruhe"

slave: "so you come from Stuttgart

me: "yes"

Slave: "and you don't live in Turkey anymore?"

me: "i am from india"

Slave: "but you said you lived in Turkey"

me: "Sorry, but see my passport, i am from india"

Slave: "yes, i can see that, but you said Turkey"

me: "no"

After a small silence, the rest of the process went smooth. That early 30's scoliotic fingered, deaf waste of hair and makeup called a civil servant was probably sniffing thinner from her nail polish remover before coming to work today. The problems numbed people have include, among others, missing the big front cover of the passport failing to ignore the bright golden emblem with three lions and the fourth sitting across her table, clearly having not a clue of what accents across the world are like. There is a punishment for such people, firstly, 7 million bedbugs should appear in her sheets one morning and then she should be shot by a marksman in the head for being a racist and then in the genitals for being an idiot by getting the races mixed up.