Frugality® in Spain

Old people say youth is wasted on the young. On the other hand, you may recall that time when you were in your teens or twenties, you looked out the windshield of your POS Ford and saw some ancient fart driving a brand new Corvette convertible. You thought, money is wasted on the old. Perhaps you had a point. But am I giving any of mine to some Gen X’er or Millennial or Gen Z’er? Hell no. I’ll bet you are no different.

After a lifetime of worrying about money you are out of debt, the kids are paying their own way, and you qualify for Medicare. You could buy yourself nice things, but (unlike the geezer in the Vette) you don’t. At some point you realized that you don’t need the baubles and status symbols you once craved. Later you realized that you don’t even want them; or, maybe you want them, but only a little, and only in an abstract sort of way. You have learned that the accumulation of things, even awesome shiny things, will satisfy only briefly. You know better than to trust your own desires.

Your continued frugality represents more than a rejection of crass materialism. Sometimes you tell yourself that frugality is a virtue, like honesty or loyalty or generosity, but that’s not why you grab hold of your money as though it was an orphan wanting to run into a cesspool. Your thrifty lifestyle has become sport.

Frugality® is a game involving no other competitors. It’s like solitary rollerblading, but without the risk of somehow falling on your own damn foot and breaking an ankle. Frugality® doesn’t require special equipment or athletic ability. Anyone can play!

The best thing about Frugality® is that YOU get to decide whether YOU have won or lost. After hours of research did you buy a robot vacuum that was, in your opinion, the best possible value? You don’t have to wait for a judge’s ruling before doing a little victory dance and shouting “I win! I win!” Possibly you decided that robot vacuums are stupid or overpriced and you do not buy one at all. Here too you get to spike the metaphorical football. In fact, you can declare a joyous victory every time you sweep the floor for FREE!

Although a solitary sport, winning at Frugality® sometimes involves battling outside forces. Take for example my application for a FREE tram card.

Alicante has a great mass transit system. For about a buck and a half you can board an electric train that will take you from the northern edge of El Campello to the southernmost part of downtown Alicante. You also can hop on a bus that will take you to virtually any part of the city you may want to visit. The best part: folks age 65 and older are entitled to a gold card that guarantees FREE passage on all Alicante trams and buses.

The only catch: you need to have lived in Alicante for at least a year.

One year, almost to the day, after Denise and I moved from El Campello to Alicante I submitted my application to the Transporte Alicante Metropolitano (TAM), the office responsible for (among other things) issuing gold cards. The application included a passport-size photo, a completed form, and €4 in cash. I knew they would want proof that I had resided in Alicante for a year so I brought a copy of our apartment lease.

The TAM office is on the ground floor of a large commercial building next to the Mercado tram stop. As you pass through the glass door you see a room just wide enough, but not nearly long enough, to accommodate one bowling lane. At the far end there are two desks, Several more desks line the room’s right side. Transparent plastic screens shield TAM desk jockeys from the unwashed masses. The room has all the charm of a Department of Motor Vehicles office in a bad part of town.

There are a few chairs on the office’s left side, but most of your waiting, and there will be plenty of that, will be spent standing in an outside queue. Once inside you see a stern security guard looking for troublemakers he can beat into submission.

I am allowed into the TAM office after standing in line for thirty minutes. I wait inside only a short while before being waived to one of the desks at the far end. A woman behind the desk, and also behind a thick transparent shield, says something in Spanish. I do not understand her, but I presume she has asked why I am here.

I hand the lady my application form, which I previously completed and signed. I also give her my passport photo and €4. The woman takes the form and says, “Yabba dabba dooamos carta dos semanas,” or at least that’s what it sounds like to me. I know that “carta” means letter, and “dos semanas” is two weeks. I believe she is telling me that within two weeks I will receive a letter approving my application. I leave the office wondering how I will celebrate winning this round of Frugality®.

I do not receive a letter in the mail, but in a week or so I get a call from the Ayuntamiento (City Hall). The caller says I need to bring my passport to that government office. Reading between the Spanish lines, I am sure this has something to do with my FREE tram card.

I go to my Ayuntamiento appointment and am given a Padron, an official document certifying the date I moved to Alicante. The Padron fails to accurately credit me with the full year I have been in Alicante because Denise and I waited about 60 days before reporting our change of address to the Ayuntamiento, as foreigners are required to do.

I conclude that I must have misunderstood the TAM lady. The Padron must be the “carta” that she said I would receive in two weeks.

I take the Padron to the TAM office. This time there is a lady who speaks a little English. I hand her the Padron. She asks for my letter. I point to the Padron she is holding. She seems annoyed and releases a sigh that most people would reserve for a child who has, for the sixth day in a row, failed to do his homework.

She says I need to produce another document, a letter that I received in the mail. I assure her that I have received no such letter. She says “You will” with the confidence of a person who believes government employees are incapable of error and the post office never misdirects mail.

The lady who speaks a little English observes that, according to the Padron, I have not lived in Alicante for a year. Luckily, I have the lease which clearly documents the date we moved from El Campello. The lady loses all patience as I rummage through my backpack for the lease. She has be rude to a great many people today and I am keeping her from the next victim.

I triumphantly produce the lease. She is visibly mystified. I point to the line which proves that I moved into the Alicante apartment more than one year earlier. The TAM lady shows off her superior coordination by simultaneously sighing and shaking her head. She does not care about any stinking leases. She will rely only upon the Padron.

Six weeks later I return. Even according to the Padron I now have lived in Alicante for a year. The lady who speaks a little English is unimpressed. She says the letter I still have not received explains that my application must be denied because it was submitted before I had lived in Alicante for a full year. She says that she cannot process my application unless I give her a copy of that letter.

I explain that I never received a letter and after this much time it obviously has been misdirected or was never sent. She disagrees. I ask why she needs the letter since she apparently knows its contents. She is very busy and has no time for such stupid questions.

I have no choice but to go home and wait for the letter that almost certainly will never come.

Three months later I still have not received a letter, but I have a fool-proof plan. I take the tram to downtown Alicante. For thirty minutes I wait outside the TAM office. Finally it is my turn to go inside and be abused. I hand a new lady a new application, including a new passport photo and another €4. She tells me I need a new Padron, even though my old one proves that I have been in Alicante for a year. She says a Padron must have been issued within ten days of a gold card application.

I do not argue with the lady. I am too smart for that. I go online and make an appointment at the Ayuntamiento. I have to wait forty-five minutes past the appointed time but finally I get a new Padron. I immediately take it to the TAM office. I hand the Padron to the lady I had not seen before. I am within the ten day deadline but she takes the new Padron into a back room. The lady who speaks a little English emerges. She asks for the letter denying my original application.

I tell her that I never got the letter. I explain that is why I submitted a new application, so that we could start the whole process over. She does not care about the new application. She will not give me my FREE tram card unless I give her the letter that we both know I will never receive.

I look at the security guard. He is looking directly at me with a hopeful gleam in his eye. I imagine that most of the people he gets to beat up were waited on by the lady who speaks a little English. I resolve to disappoint the guard. I will not give him an excuse to use his lead-filled billy club. I will control my frustration and ask constructive questions.

I ask the lady who speaks a little English who would have sent the letter. She does not know. I ask what office the letter would have come from. She does not know. I pause and look at my feet, gathering my thoughts. I look up and ask her to imagine that she is me. She needs to get a copy of the letter. To get a copy she needs to know where such letters come from. “How would you, if you were me, discover who sent the letter?”

She is not a detective and has no ideas.

I find myself laughing. I have read Catch-22 and I am familiar with the hilarity of unreasoning governmental rigidity and indifference. “Please tell me,” I said, “that you know why this is funny.” Rather than answer she looks at the security guard and gives him a little nod.

I turn to the guard. He is squinting and appears to be thinking. No doubt he is wondering whether Spanish law allows him to club someone for laughing. I decide this is a good time to leave.

I take the tram home. It is a twenty minute ride, followed by a fifteen minute walk. I sit at my desk and think about my situation. I could throw in the proverbial towel. I can tolerate only so much bureaucratic amusement. I don’t use mass transit that often and the fares are cheap. Despite its name, the gold card is not that valuable, at least not to me.

But I can’t quit. Old age involves enlarged prostates and weight gain and dimmed cognitive abilities. I will be damned and burn in hell before I voluntarily relinquish one of its few advantages!

I turn to my computer and write an email to Consuelo Hernandez Garcia. She is a lawyer who helped us with our first apartment lease. I explain my problem and ask what she would charge to help me find the mysterious letter.

Rather than respond to my query Ms. Hernandez calls a government office and arranges for a copy of the letter to be sent directly to the TAM office. She writes to say she has done this and tells me there is no charge for the call.

I am in love with Ms. Hernandez.

I now have my FREE tram card! But have I won this round of Frugality®? Let’s see: During the past five months virtually all my tram rides have been to and from the TAM office in pursuit of my FREE card. Putting aside those trips, based upon my past usage, I should expect to ride the tram maybe twelve times per year. Without the gold card my annual cost would be less than €40 for the round trips.

I spent about €21 on tram tickets to and from the TAM office and the Ayuntamiento, €8 on application fees, and €10 on passport photos. Those figures add up to €39. If we subtract that sum from €40 and then divide that result by the (approximately) fifteen hours spent traveling and dealing with bureaucrats, this simple math reveals that my time — and hence the gold card — is worth . . . almost nothing.

Which leads us back to the question: Did I win this round of Frugality®? The answer is painfully obvious. Of course I did! I have to say, though, that even with a biased umpire this contest could have gone the other way. If it had not been for the generosity of attorney Consuelo Hernandez Garcia I may have lost this game.

There are lessons here for all the old expats playing Frugality® in Alicante. First, if you qualify for a gold card begin by getting a Padron and making sure that it shows that you have lived in Alicante for at least a year. Second, immediately take that Padron with your application, photo and €4 to the TAM office. Third, if you ever need a lawyer call Consuelo Hernandez Garcia!

Or, instead of playing Frugality®, you can spend your children’s inheritance on a bright red Corvette convertible. You won’t have to deal with the TAM office and, as an added bonus, you may annoy some Millennials!