Greece through dark glasses
Comments on Greek culture, news and LifeInsurance Company Claiming
We all need car insurance, unless you live in Athens, Lamia or the other Greek cities that make needing a car the equivalent of owning a moosemusk in your bathroom.
You need it, of course, because you have accidents.
Or, to put it another way, Greeks have accidents to you.
Often.
It could be the tractor on the motorway that suddenly catches you by surprise.
Or the Albanian, celebrating he’s recent migrant legitimacy by buying an old banger and that sometime in the future he’ll add brakes mirrors and lights to.
Or the scooters that play a death wish game with you. Or, the woman who yesterday reversed backwards, the wrong way down a one-way street. Into me.
That’s when car insurance comes into it’s own. Pretty handy when your front – end has been pushed a couple of metres towards your rear-end & your won’t move any longer.
It’s a simple procedure from then on. Simply take three weeks off work and start calling your insurance company.
Stupidly, I didn’t have my insurance certificate with me to show the police officer attending my accident. An immediate fine, worth more than the crash damage, but I could fix it by faxing a copy of the certificate to the police station within the hour.
‘Hello’, I said to the insurance company’s switchboard, ‘I need to speak to someone about….’
‘Please hold while I transfer you to our Information Department’
‘No, wait, I only want…..’
Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
Information Department, what would you like?’
‘Oh, hello, I’ve had an accident and I need to…’
‘You need Claims Department. I’ll transfer you’
‘No. Please listen, ……’
Click. Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Good morning, Claims Department.’
‘Hello, I’ve had an accident. I don’t want to make a Claim, I just want to fax a copy of my insurance …..’
‘You don’t want to report a Claim?’
‘Later I do. First I need the certificate faxed…’
‘This is Claims Department. For people who want to make a Claim. Please hold while I transfer you….’
Click. Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Hello, Information Department.’
‘Hello, I spoke with you just now, and you put me through to…’
‘Yes, about your Claim…’
‘Yes, but I don’t want to Claim, I want..’
‘You said you had an accident. So you do need Claims Department’.
‘No. Well, yes, but later. First, I need to..’
‘Just tell them that. Please hold while I transfer you’
‘Claims Department’.
‘Before you transfer me, please listen to me.’
‘Of course’
‘I’ve had an accident and need you to fax a copy of my insurance certificate’.
‘You probably need Information Department then. Just tell them what you want. I’ll transfer you…’
‘NO! Just get someone….’
Click, Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Information Department’.
‘Now PLEASE listen to me before you transfer me again! All I want is my certificate faxed to a telephone number I’ll give you, and …..
‘You need a different department’.
‘Which department?’
‘I don’t know. Please hold while I transfer you….’
‘How can you transfer me when you don’t know….’
Click. Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Reception?’
‘All you people do is transfer me!’
‘That’s my job. I’m the switchboard’
‘Well, listen to my problem please and then transfer me to the right department..’
‘Well, what’s your problem, then I can transfer you to the proper people…’
‘Simply that I want you to fax a copy of my insurance certificate to me’
‘I can’t do that, I’m the switchboard. I put calls through to the correct department. You probably need someone in the Information or the Claims Department’.
‘I not asking you to do it. I’m asking you to put me through to someone who can and who doesn’t transfer me. But, where ever you transfer me too, they don’t agree they can, and they keep bouncing me elsewhere.
‘You’re choosing the wrong department then’
‘Look, let me speak to a manager, please, can you find one for me?’
Click. Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Hello?’
‘Hello. Are you the manager?’
‘Yes’
‘I need a fax of my insurance certificate sent to me. Nobody in Information or Claims or Switchboard knows who can do it and I’ve been bouncing around between them for the last 20 minutes’
‘We can do that here’
‘Great’. These are the details (details).
‘There’s a €4 charge for doing this’
‘No problem’. Take my credit card details’
‘We don’t take cards. But we can accept a fax of your card details’
‘What’s your fax number, then?’
‘We don’t have a fax here. I’ll transfer you to someone who has.’
Click. Canned Thank-You For Holding Message…
‘Hello, this is Claims Department……’
The upside of all this was three-fold.
First, my Greek improved through the practice. The Greek for Claim, Information and Fax is forever imprinted on my psyche.
Second, my mobile phone bill clocked up even more bonus points, so I’m even more convinced I can upgrade next December and get an even bigger handbook with, hopefully, a built in fax, photocopier and resident Greek language teacher.
Thirdly, we couldn’t move the cars until the police came, so I had a wonderful two hours blocking the traffic, arguing with the occasional angry bus driver, meeting the gathering crowd, being served coffee roadside by the locals, and making a host of new friends. Including a woman with a dead sexy voice who records Thank You For Holding messages for my Athens insurance company.
An English Dinner Party
I announced a few days ago that I’m going to have an English dinner party. (Some months back I told D of my ambition to make her more English middle class.) “What’s an English dinner party?” she asked. I explained that it’s typically for six people, you come a little dressed up, you have to cook the food yourself, you drink and eat slowly, and politely, everyone tries makes intelligent and lightly humorous conversation, you can’t smoke or answer the mobile and you can fart between courses. No lamb on a spit, no hand-covering-toothpick-covering-mouth, no staring at the plate wondering if it’s not yet dead, no another Greek salad, and preferably, proper cheeses (even more preferably, English and French) and good red wine. From a bottle, not a box or a metal jug and in wine glasses, not tiny tumblers.
Then yesterday she asked more. She’s been reading about English life in Greel language books. “Do we all get naked and fuck!” she asked, a little excitedly. (She can be such a tease, sometimes.) “And don’t we have to have someone dressed in black serving the wine”, she said, pulling her book from her bag. “And some jester’s. And a hanging basket from the entrance staircase?”
I looked at her book, an ancient library piece about Jacobian life in England around 1630’s by a JW Rochester.
I’ll keep you posted about how the dinner goes, but I don’t expect it’ll be particularly successful, because I haven’t got an entrance staircase….
An apology
OK, I really am sorry that our night our turned out so badly.
But you know me, by now. You know I’m not at all the suave, sophisticated, humorous, intelligent and averagely sexy man I make myself out to be, I’m really pretty boring. I count the dimples on toilet paper, for Christ’s sake, most of my thinking comes from Chinese crackers, I spend too much time fantasizing rather than doing, I worry every morning about are you worrying about my bald spot, and I could use an owners manual for new relationships, with a guarantee or the very least, a refund policy.
But I am a romantic, and I thought it would be great for you to come and join me, in the taxi I arranged. OK, the blindfold was a bit over the top, but I thought it fun and teasing. You wouldn’t know what was about to happen, nor where it was going to happen, nor what may happen later.
And I planted the M&M’s in the back by arrangement with the driver. I mean, who the hell doesn’t like M&M’s nowadays? And I don’t remember you are allergic to peanuts. How could I remember, I forget everything anyway and you told me at least 4 months ago and we had sex just after, and you know that all men never remember or believe anything said when there’s sexual tension around. If you weren’t so allergy prone, you’d know M&M’s are just great, and it’s the thought that counts, after all.
Anyway, why was I angry when you arrived at the restaurant? Well, I had been sitting on my own for 55 minutes after stuffing myself with canepes and wine. And I always turn my ‘phone off in restaurants, as I think its rude to answer calls there, so how could I know you had tried phoning from the surgery to tell me you were taking an injection for the rashes,redness and swelling the nuts gave you? OK, you explained when you came – well, actually, you yelled at me when you came – that you were pissed off, but why did you leave home without the taxi fare. Although I arranged the taxi, I never said I was going to pay for it. And I did offer some food from my plate, from my dinner, and although it has gone a little cold it had been delicious. But no, you refused it and then whined all night long about how hungry you were.
See, I knew the M&M’s would come in handy.
Anyway, then you frowned at me over the table for the rest of the evening, making me feel very uncomfortable even after I eventually offered you €5.00 for the taxi fare; and then you threw the change in my face. And that ’s when I got angry; Here we go again, treating my money so lightly – can’t you even work out that if the fare was €3.45 then you should have thrown €1.55 in my face, and not just €1.30?
And the water I threw back at you was Perrier. It’s the best, and that’s got to be worth something.
Thank God the cutlery had been cleared away when you attacked me otherwise if the coffee cup had been a meat knife I could be dead by now. One of my better shirts, too! (How do you remove coffee stains, by the way? Could you fix it when you’re next around my place please?).
Anyway, look, let’s make up. It was a very nice restaurant and the food was good, and the idea was well meant. Next time I promise I’ll pay the taxi fare, too. And the fact I can forgive you does show you I do have style.
Serious Point 1
I don’t know why it is such a sore subject to complain about the Greeks or Greece. What makes it so special and such a taboo subject? The blog is just a place where you vent or express your point of view. It is not a historical document that has to be treated with all the aplomb of such. It is a personal perspective of the blogger’s own reality. It is often said that our opinions do not really blossom into fruition until we have expressed them to someone else. That is why we are such social creatures, that we seek each other even through this medium.
Just because this blog is about living in Greece, do I need to censure what is said? Reality is such, for most of us living here, that we are afraid to complain because we get such reactions from people that aren’t even Greek. We seem to be in a hypersensitive milieu where any negative comment on the subject of “Greek Dom” is a personal attack. This is a dangerous thing. If we can’t express our opinions, then what is freedom? We can complain about the British, the Americans, the French, etc. and the Greeks are the first in doing so, but when it comes to Greece, the line seems to be drawn and deep. This is prejudice and madness.How can we know what is wrong to be wrong, or not just our imagination, if we can’t discuss it with others, and exchange points of view? Not discussing the issues that make life difficult doesn’t make them go away, but in fact, cements them in. You can’t bury your head in the sand and wait for someone else to change something that you believe needs changing, or acknowledge something you believe to be wrong. Especially if they don’t know how you feel, because you’ve never said anything. Reality is merely an illusion. We know reality is shared, not absolute. It’s how we come to terms with that surrounding us that gives it meaning. What is right and wrong may seem absolute, but it really isn’t. It’s what a particular group has determined it to be. So if you are not satisfied with it, you MUST say something. Otherwise, who will speak for you? Who will point it out, as such?I don’t blame the Greeks so much for their view of themselves or how they live with their daily woes. We define ourselves through others. If all you’ve known is one thing, then how could you be expected to see any other options? Or how could you appreciate other possibilities if you don’t know them as possible. Most Greeks have never questioned themselves or their realities. They don’t see any other. And our silence shows we agree. If something has always been accepted as a truth, how could you be expected to think otherwise on your own? Complacency is natural. The first step towards amendment is the recognition of error. No one innately swims against the current if there is no perceived need to do so in the first place. It is our fault that the status quo is maintained. You don’t have to be a citizen, a true member from birth to be part of a society, and claim all the rights deserved. That is too high a price on liberty and justice, to exclude those members on such grounds. It is the silence of those who don’t think they should speak, which should be addressed. No one has a right to tell someone they can’t have an opinion or voice it. It takes courage to stand up and say I have been wronged, or this could be better. The cowardly will just slink away. Don’t make cowardice and complacency a goal. It only takes the silence of the good to make the evil possible. Did we not learn this through human history yet? I’m not saying that living in Greece could be compared to the horrors of previous times. But that the principles learnt apply in all our lives forever. It is difficult to make a step, to say what you feel, when you know it will not be praised. But never the less, someone must say it. Many times I have been guilty of this myself…just didn’t want to bother to burst their bubble. The reality is that for any change to be possible, there has to first be the acknowledgement of the need for change. So do not censure the ones that have courage enough to point and say, “this is crazy!” or ‘this is frustrating to me’. It’s like the fable of the emperor has no clothes. Just because nobody dared say it, didn’t mean he had on any.I’m not saying the Greeks need to be more westernised, or more British, or whatever. It should be OK for them to hear that not all they do is perfect in our view. It’s OK in any other western culture to criticize the majority, or those in power, why not here? Especially since it is very difficult to live among people you love and hold back from offering them advice. I think, as foreigners here, we make it more difficult for them to realize that we don’t think them so perfect. We short change them in the process. They are stronger than we give them credit, and although passionate about their nationalism, they were the first to give a voice to the philosophers. They are capable of thought, logic, and appreciation of it. Let us not forget that. They may seem irrational in many ways, but the seeds are there. They will be upset at first but, wasn’t it Socrates who said: ‘Think not those faithful who praise all thy words and actions; but those who kindly reprove thy faults.’Digressions, objections, delight in mockery, carefree mistrust are signs of health; everything unconditional belongs in pathology. -Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil
It’s in a name
Maggie T was my generation’s leader. Every night, we saw pictures of her on the news, scenes of burly policemen cruising the streets looking for Trade Unionists, thumping strikers for the fun off it, mobs setting fire to buses and blocking the roads with burning tyres, businesses closing, and nationally owned incredibly inefficient bloated organisations being sold off for a song to those who could afford it. She never blinked, and when we looked like we were starting to stare back at her, she even went to war to distract our attention. A woman, with a simple, short, name, who looked good.
Homer was the same. Homer was the probably blind ancient Greek epic poet, author of the poems the Iliad and the Odyssey. He is considered a legendary figure and the Iliad and the Odyssey are considered by most scholars to be epics. And we remember him today. I even studied him in school.
The greatest and longest-lasting ancient Greek democratic leader was Pericles. We all remember other famous Greek names, such as Plato but do you remember what Thucydides did? More recent Greek names come to mind – Nana, Mikis, Jennifer and Telly for, respectively, singing and politics, composing, making a fortune out of a far too long running American TV series, and a lollipop sucking a lollipop whilst he arrested murderers. Would democracy really have gotten off the ground if someone called Stassinopoulos had first thought of it? Would a Papathanassiou have ever got onto the international singing stage with a name like that?
No, of course not. It’s the same everywhere – the name IS key. Hillary (of Clinton) won’t win anything in November because Hillary’s never win anything. Joan’s don’t win either, they burn at the stake.
Looking different is good, too. You’ve got to admit it, Adolph had a certain air about him, Osama looks pretty cool even in a dress, Admiral Nelson pulled off some amazing wins with just one eye, Edward Scissorhands cuts a mean head of hair and Nelson Mandela and Che Guivara look great on T-shirt’s. But who remembers that Aristomenos Kontogouris was the famous politician of the late 1800’s and Mayor of Patra?
Which brings me to Greece and the current crop of Greek politicians.
The best of the bunch is probably Dora because of her name and the fact she looks good. But the rest? If he hadn’t thrown himself of his balcony, would Aris Spiliotopoulos be as well-known as he now is, is Dimitris Avramopoulos really in charge of such a ministry as Health and Social Solidarity? Does Mr Karamanlis really cut the same cloth such as Dora does, Maggie did, Osama perhaps still may be doing now?
You may not like what they did or what they stood for, but you sure as hell remember them or are attracted by them. They sound or look charismatic, not sound like a mangled plate of italien spaghetti or look like Mr Plod the blow up policeman .
Try buying a DVD player
I wanted a new DVD player, so went to the huge electrical superstore by the airport (you know the one). The DVD aisle had a display of some 20 or so brands, marked with prices.
Spotting a Philips player on sale for €90, marked down from an original €145, I called the salesgirl over. She explained the functions, I confirmed I wanted it, and asked why it was marked down by €55.
”Because it doesn’t work”, she said. ”The remote’s missing, and some of the function buttons are jammed”.
”OK. Right. Hhmm…er, I think I’ll choose another one”, I said. ”This one”, pointing to another brand nearby.
”No, you can”t have that one”’, she said, ”as we’ve not got anymore, we’re out of stock and aren’t repeating them”.
”That’s OK, I’ll take the one on display”.
”No, we can’t sell you that one, it’s our only one left”, she said.
OTE Therapy
Doctor (can I call you Doctor?) I’m lonely. I’ve ended up here and have no-one. I lie in bed, unable to sleep, I’m so alone. Anything would help. Can you suggest something?
From Desperate.
Dear Desperate,
Try signing up for OTE Internet access. They promise an 8 day delivery but over the next few weeks you’ll end up talking to most of the 3,400 staff who work in their various call centres. The numbers 121, 134, 1242, 1344, 5467, 801 111 3555, 800 119 7200, and 800 dont-phone-me, and others, will in time be burned into your brain. It’ll cost you many dozens of ‘phone calls, but they are there 24/7, and are particularly good overnight – when I did it, it made me laugh many times. Insanely, sometimes. It’s great, this therapy, as it’s free (apart from the mental cost and the monthly charges from OTE) but quite good value as they’re there for you for about 11 weeks or so, day and night.
With luck, after many weeks, they’ll book you an appointment with an engineer. He won’t turn up several times, but it will get you out and about (which is exactly what you need, by the sound of it) and after 4 or 5 days you’ll have to visit their local engineering office and bang the door down to get to see someone to explain why he hasn’t come, and then to find out that he has never been scheduled to come in the first (despite what your friends on the ‘phone assured you). And when he does come, he’ll shake his head and….refer you to one of the regular numbers you’ve probably already called.
Alternatively, try this: Go to sleep tonight with one arm tucked under your body. By morning when you wake up it’ll be numb and totally without feeling. Then, with your other arm take your numb arm and stroke yourself with it. It feels like someone else is there with you, for while. And as sensation returns, you’ll slowly remember why you decided to be alone in the first place.
I hope that helps and take care.
