5 or the chicken, the egg or kfc bureaucratic dilemma
Phonzo has never been a good planner.
Even if you try. A lot. In your mind.
You spend most of the 24 hours composing a day lost in your thoughts. And, by thoughts, we mainly mean projects, dialogues and monologues, often intertwined and connected since you literally animate and live whatever you attempt to schedule to do in your life. Problem is, you spend so much time alone inside your head reliving those soon-to-happen moments that, by the time they come, they’re gone without you noticing and concretely living them.
On this wise, you were once more lucky because you had the superficial and materialist Luchino next to yourself while moving the first steps into Londinium.
Luchino introduced you to the Ouroboros Paradox also known as the Who Came First? The chicken, the egg or KFC? dilemma.
“Well, in order to work in the Bigdom you need this… number, which is sort of a virtual barcode the authority assigns you to track and tax your own persona. But, in order to gain the barcode, you need a home address, that is a bed and a roof in which finding shelter overnight (or overday, up to you). Funny thing is nobody will ever rent you a room unless you got a job, which you can’t get without the barcode. Got it?”. You found Luchino’s explanation quite funny even though you were sure he wasn’t joking at all.
“So, technically, you should jump on the next plane and fly back home. You won’t of course because to fuck them up it’s very easy”.
First, you had to call for the barcode giving Luchino’s address as his, they didn’t and couldn’t check anyway. You missed the first appointment because, as every newcomer, you didn’t get a word of what the lad told you over the phone. The second time you got luckier, the lass was nicer and with a clearer accent.
After that, Luchino told you about a free bed in the double bedroom next to the kitchen. What you had to do was just going to the slimy bloodsucker in charge of the tenancy, tell them about the free accommodation (of which they probably didn’t even know being that a very low-class firm) and reclaim it as your own. They made you a contract so fake the most defunded library in the neighbourhood didn’t hold it valid for a membership. The rent was cheap though, even if it wasn’t worth the company of the lame and depressed roommate (more about him later).
The next step was the bank account. Luchino told you about a specific branch of a specific bank located in the middle of La Ciudad in which they don’t ask much. Apparently, they’re happy enough to open new accounts to whoever is willing to ask for one. And you were. And you got a bank account too.
What originally seemed to be an intricate plan to avoid barbarian invasions, ended up being a trivial willpower trial. The not-too-young emigrant dreamer had won the bureaucracy in no time.
The only step left was the job. Although, you were worried by the recent excess of luck. There was the risk you might have been able to find the coolest job ever in a couple of days.
Luckily, things stopped being nice and easy pretty much soon and life went back to the usual shit.