Torture on the port

Something. Anything.

The environment. The work ethic. The deteriorating sense of morality. Crime. Choose something.

Today, I’m going to tackle the work ethic once again. Why, may I ask, in this Internet age must we still be tortured by lackadaisical, lollygagging public servants who make us wait in senseless lines for the sole purpose of destroying any semblance of patriotism that we can muster on a good day? Why must we line up at 5 am to get into the Immigration Office, and why does it take months to get an appointment? Government could save a lot of money, foster confidence and create a sense of pride in this country if it would only put people in high places who cared about solving the asinine delays that plague the Public Service.

The Licensing Office would be a good place to start.

So let me tell you what inspired this particular column.

On Ash Wednesday, my daughter Ijanaya and I wasted almost two good hours at the port trying to get tickets to Tobago for the middle of April.

Two women were selling tickets, and of course they kept taking passengers who were buying tickets for the noon sailing that day. Just why people have to wait to buy tickets at the last minute, I don’t know, but there you have it.

Meanwhile, the organised people around us who were trying to come early to buy tickets in advance — way in advance in our case — have to stand around like mooks. There’s no one to help us. We have to suck it up for all of the late, unorganised people.

My guess was we’d wait in line only to find out tickets were sold out.

I thought about going to the information booth, but I couldn’t get near the window because passengers with many bags blocked the window.

I walked over to another window and asked a man, “What do you have in place to wait on people who are trying to buy tickets for another day?” In the rudest manner possible — what is new in a government office? — the man says, “We’re only dealing with the noon sailing.” Well, guess what, mister, there’s a such thing in this world as planning and service. Not at the port, but it does exist somewhere.

When we finally get to the window and ask for tickets for April 17, the woman says, “We don’t have a schedule yet for April.” Really? Lady, people can go on Expedia and book tickets to Timbuktu for a year from now, and people in Trinidad can’t book a ferry six weeks in advance to Tobago. Poor. Very poor.

Then, the port lady had the audacity to tell us to check the website. Once again, lady, your website is a desert of information.

When we complained about standing in line for over an hour to get nowhere in our quest for tickets, she had the gall to ask us why we didn’t go to the information window? Lady, you have no order inside the port. We couldn’t get close to it because travellers were blocking it.

And so I ask you, dear readers, “Why can’t we go online and buy tickets to go to Tobago? Why can’t we feel part of the Internet age? Why do we put up with awful service? Tell me, why? I can’t help but feel that if everyone c o m - plained a b o u t the serv i c e we get in this country t h i n g s w o u l d have to change.