“I refuse to wait for hours behind a line of people paying their phone bills, electricity bills, water bills, road taxes, parking fines and VAT charges when all I want to do is buy postage stamps.
You should have separate counters for all your functions and if the state and the public utilities want to make a convenience of you, you should not penalize the people who come to you to make use of your primary mission which is to sell stamps and handle the mail,” he said.
The man in charge looked at him impassively and said:
“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about it because it happens to be a matter of general policy. You should write to the head office of ELTA.”
“I have already done so, several times.”
“And what did they say?”
“They have not replied to my letters yet. What are you going to do in 1996 when the Olympic Games are being held almost a javelin’s throw away from you and half your staff is on holiday and there are long lines of foreign visitors who have come to attend the Games, waiting to send their letters and postcards while Kyra Maria is paying her phone bill, Kyrios Kostas is paying his VAT charges, Kyria Eleni wants to know why she cannot pay her electricity bill at the post office because the expiry date on the bill was only a day ago und Barba Yannis, the concierge of an eight-storey apartment building has come to pay the water bills of 32 tenants?”
The man in charge shrugged, looked around at the people in the queue who had all cocked their ears.
“They’ll just have to wait like all these good people here,” he said with a smirk.
“Oh, they will, will they?” the dapper little man retorted.
“And. what would you say if I told you I was an investigator for the International Olympic Committee and that by what you’ve just said you’ve blown Greece’s chances of getting the Golden Olympics in 1996?”
The post office official smirked again and said:
“You don’t look like an IOC investigator to me and, anyway, as I said before, it is a matter of ELTA policy and I can’t change that.”
“Oh, I don’t look like an IOC investigator, is that what you think? Just because I don’t wear a fancy blue blazer with coloured rings on the pocket? Is that it? Well, let me tell you:my dear chap, it’s the duty of all Greeks to make sure we get the Olymics in 1996 and to set right any little detail that might jeopardize our chances of getting it. And post office queues are one such de.tail. You see. what I mean?”
At this point a tall, thin man in the queue broke in to say: “Post office queues are the least of it. What about which will move people underground the nefos? Those poor athletes will fall to the ground, choking for air before they’ve been halfway round the track.”
“Yes, and there’ll be nobody there to see them do it because everybody will be stuck in a traffic jam on Vassilissis Sofias,” a fat woman said, raising chuckles from the other people in the queue.
The dapper little man glared at her and said:
“My dear madam, you may not be aware of this, but besides the plans to have the Spata airport ready and functioning by 1996, with expressways linking it to the Olympic Stadium and to the Peace and Friendship Stadium in Piraeus, there will be a rapid transit system in operation in Athens quickly and comfortably from their hotels, wherever they may be staying, to the games, wherever they may be held. The IOC has already been advised of these plans and all we need is the green light from it to move ahead and make the Golden Olympiad of 1996 the crowning event of the century.”
Some of the people in the queue began to clap and the dapper little man looked at them quizzically, wondering whether they were indeed applauding his speech or being sarcastic.
The tall, thin man broke in again to say:
“Tell me, sir, all this construction that will be done requires a great deal of cement, does it not?”
“Indeed it does, so what?” snapped the dapper little man.
“And to make concrete you require to mix it with gravel, do you not?”
The dapper little man nodded.
“And water,” the thin man went on.
The dapper little man nodded again.
“And where will they find the water when, after 7 November, there will be not a drop anywhere to find in the greater Athens area?”
The people in the queue laughed out loud this time.
The dapper little man had reached the counter by this time and looking over his shoulder said:
“I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath with you people. You don’t deserve the Golden Olympiad. All you’re good for is standing in line in post offices.”
