Punch-up in the post office...

I was in the small post office opposite Sadyba market, buying stamps for my brother’s birthday card. As usual it was full of old women, paying rent or bills, or just professionally queuing, which is what most of them seem to do. To preserve this system of queuing, you have to take a ticket from a machine and then, until it’s your turn, while away the time as best you can. I got my ticket and, seeing there were eleven punters in front of me, took a seat. At the window directly opposite my uncomfortable green plastic chair, a man was leaning, his hood pulled up despite the heat inside. He seemed to be waiting for his turn but I’m not sure now.

The bell sounded and another number clicked up on the display. It said 501 and a large bear-like man of around thirty, but possibly younger, came up to the window next to where the hooded guy was leaning. I heard 502 mentioned, then out of the blue the two – hoody and the bear – started to push each other at the window. Words were exchanged, then more pushing, then fists started to fly. A scuffle broke out in the not-too-large post office, the old women scattered like frightened hens and clucked and scolded but it fell on deaf ears. I moved further away to a better vantage point and because, as the only other person in there under 70, thought I might be expected to try and break it up. It was, however, much too entertaining to do that. Coats were pulled, punches exchanged, muffled swearing and grunting, and then the spinning dance that happens when two people can’t get a clear smack at each other. After a few minutes it calmed down and they both went back to the window. The old women drifted back to their previous positions, chunnering and tutting and adjusting their mohair berets.

Once the two combatants got back to their original positions I thought I’d slipped back in time. It was like watching an action replay as exactly the same thing happened again: the words, the push, then shouting, shoving, and then fists again. There was on duty a skinny, silver-haired, bearded security guard of advancing years and when the second scuffle broke out he took two precautions: he locked the door to the outside and he locked himself behind the counter. After several more minutes of scuffling, order was resumed, with the bear going back to the counter and using his size and apparent victory as a basis for his right to be served next. What did he buy? One ticket, normal tariff, for the bus. Nothing else.

I bought my stamps – as the girls had started serving again now that the fuss had died down – and came to leave but had to wait while the security guard came out from his safe haven and unlocked the door. He tried to keep the bear inside, but he was ineffectual and the last I saw, the security guard was trying to phone someone on his mobile. I don’t blame him for not getting involved, but if it had been any more serious he would have been useless, as he was too frail – and I am too careful, or chicken – to get involved.

Where is the spring?

It's almost the middle of March and there's still no sign of spring. This morning they announced on the radio that it was minus ten outside, so it's still a case of big coat, hat and scarf. During the day the sun melts some of the snow and leaves big puddles across all the paths which, overnight, turn into sheets of ice and lie in wait for those hurrying to work or for buses.

On February 23rd, there was a dzień bez łapówki - a day without bribes. This was advertised all over the place and I thought it was nice that, once a year, you can have a day where no-one takes a bribe. The usual excuse given as to why people take bribes is that those in poorly-paid jobs need the money to supplement their wages. So this makes it right? An 'extra' payment for doing what you're supposed to? For greasing the wheels a little? As an example, I was told that, to book the room for the wedding, I would have to give the woman in charge 'something', a box of chocolates maybe. For doing what? For writing two names in a book? And if I don't? Well, then she makes a few noises and says it isn't possible. So I have no choice now? To bribe and get what I want - and what it is her 'duty' to give me - or to ignore this and be frustrated by the soviet throwback attitude that people will only do their jobs if they get a little bit of something 'extra'. We've both decided she won't get an envelope, a box of chocolates, or even a thank you if she doesn't do what she - however poorly - is paid to do. Without a little 'gift' here and there, where is the job satisfaction? What is even more annoying is that it isn't just those people who grew up under the communist yoke that think bribery is not only an acceptable part of life, but almost a given way of getting things done.

This type of thinking sometimes goes beyond rational thought into the land of nonsense. On one tv programme, it was said that those who live together and aren't married are no better than cave people, who lived the same way, and therefore society is regressing into a prehistoric age. This was uttered without any sense of irony or mirth and reflects how the church not only keeps a tight grip on its followers here, but also strangles any kind of thought that goes against its teaching. Again, it isn't just the old who profess these things, the youth too are blatantly ignorant and intolerant and there is little feeling that change is possible. Apathy would reign if only people could be bothered...