License to Kill (time)

Karen, Harry & I made a last-minute trip over to Spain to visit Hazel & Roger whilst Matt spent 10days with a friend in Slovakia.

As the in-laws (or parents, or grandparents depending on your perspective) live on the coast, fishing was clearly an option for Harry.

Our local experts kindly investigated the regulations concerning permits - one doubts that many tourists actually bother with this, but one expects there to be some local equivalent of our rod license.

The word was that a license should be obtained and - at 5euros for three years - cost was clearly not a consideration.

A couple of days into the trip we deemed it was time to pick up the permits. Based on experience in UK, France and Canada I had expectations that we would pop into a seafront newsagent or tackle shop and hand over the 5euros.

So, I was mildly surprised when Roger brought us to an official government building. Still, there was the sign "Licensia de pesca" and so it began.

The problems began right away. The clerk at this post clearly was not too familiar with the procedure herself and the language barrier was a factor. The all-Spanish form was reasonably self-explanatory but certainly dealing with a foreigner presented some issues for them (we had been warned to bring our passports).

Much photocopying an re-entering of data went on (it rather looked like the forms pre-dated the new IT system - and so everything on the paper form was re-done for the computer).

It did seem rather elaborate for a €5 transaction (and actually €0 in Roger's case as a 65+). Still, eventually it appeared we were ready to pay.

Oh. They don't take money at the government offices. We were directed to seek out a nearby BBVA branch - a few minutes stroll away. So, off we went, leaving the patient Karen, Hazel and Harry behind.

The branch was bright and spacious and not too threatening, but rather short on actual bank-tellers. After an inordinate wait behind just one other customer who was depositing rather less than €10 in cash (a transaction with considerable complexity, apparently) it was our turn.

The good news was that the clerk was familiar with the idea that we had come to settle the license bill. By the way - Roger had to come all this way to pay his zero Euros, it seemed.

Payment, though, was far from a simple matter. The bank had to rekey all the data into its own IT system to match that entered by the fishing authority. Now, in finance we would call this "trade matching" and it is a system with some merit although "STP" (straight through preocessing) is preferred nowadays.

Surely, though, I would not be alone in thinking this was some overkill for an average transaction value of about 2 quid?

The matching failed. It was OK for Roger who was able to settle his nought-euro bill satisfactorily, but my passport number caused a problem.

An explanation in Spanish was appended to a piece of scrap paper and we were sent back to the fisheries desk where we were asked to re-sign our original forms (yes, the ones that had been re-keyed already). Roger was in fact given his permit but I was invited to return to the bank and thence back once more to the government desk.

"manana" said I, and elected to cut our losses. I felt very strongly that having invested 90minutes, and made a genuine effort to pay, we had the moral high ground in the incredibly unlikely event of being challenged at the seafront.

I did not relish the thought of another hour (say) with the prospect of being still unable to complete the transaction.

In the UK, where the whole process is online and very straightforward, and where our banking and government services appear by comparison to be beacons of efficiency, it is hard to imagine this level of bureaucracy surviving nowadays. In Spain, I suppose it must be accepted although I do think it doubtful that many go through with this just to cast a few worms off the breakwater.

Perhaps noone has ever actually applied for one before?

For completeness, one must mention that Karen went back the next day and succesfully, and apparently painlessly, paid the fee at the second attempt and picked up the magic card which is now safely nestled in my wallet. Just 2 years and 50 weeks till I will need to brave the renewal process ...