The mayor of
Miami asks for tenders for painting the façade of the Town Hall, and
he receives 3: one from an Englishman, one from a German, and one from a
Spaniard.
The Englishman's is for 3 million dollars, the
German's for 6 million, and the Spaniards for 9 million. Because there's
such a difference between the prices, he interviews each of the candidates
separately, so they can justify this quote.
The Englishman says that he uses 2 layers of
acrylic paint, designed especially for exteriors, and that costs 1 million.
Another million is spent on scaffolding, brushes, equipment, and
security, and the rest is for paying the workers.
The German justifies his price by saying he's the
best painter, using 3 layers of polyurethane, the cost of which is 3 million.
Scaffolding, other materials, equipment, and security would come to 2
million, and the rest would be for paying the workers.
The last, and the one who won the contract
because the mayor considered his budget the best, turned out to be the Spaniard.
He said "Look, mayor. 3 million are for you, another 3 million
for me, and we can give the 3 million that are left to the Englishman so he can
paint the façade for us."
PS Any resemblance to the politics in your area
is pure coincidence...
Honestly, the Spanish Royal Family just keeps getting more scandalous.
Photo by GonchoA
The first big black mark during my time here was due to the King's son-in-law, Iñaki Urdangarin (the Duke of Palma). He was forced to leave the country after being accused of corruption. It came to light that a network company of which he was co-director, had charged outrageously for their event-promotion services. And his wife, the Infanta Cristina, was supposedly involved in the running of some of those businesses, too.
Apparently, it was the Duke who used his contacts and influence to get these public-sector contracts with "astronomical budgets." They then charged amounts which didn't correspond with the services they provided. It's a little bit hard for me to decipher, especially in Spanish, but it seems they over-charged and then contracted out fake/imaginary services to other businesses in their network, thus making off with the taxpayer money. You can see why the Spaniards wanted him out...
More info (in Spanish) here.
Photo from capl@washjeff.edu
Then, the King's grandson (Felipe Juan Froilán de Marichalar y Borbón) was doing some shooting practice on the family farm, and shot himself in the foot (literally)... with a gun he was technically too young to be using. Although, to be fair, he's only a few months off the 14 years that are legally required.
As well as the fact that he required surgery on his right foot, the poor kid was apparently worried about his grandad being angry, and all of this putting extra strain on the already-tense relationship between his own parents.
Photo by Sheree.
And why, asked the Spanish people, wasn't the King visiting young Felipe? When the answer came to light, it was more bad publicity: he was in Botswana, hunting elephants. Many people weren't happy about the King's love of hunting, but it wasn't just this which caused dissent.
"This royal hunting trip took place in a time of great uncertainty in Spain. The country is going through the worst economic crisis since the transition to democracy, with 5.5 million unemployed. The photo of the King hunting elephants was the straw which broke the camel's back- which was already under strain after his son-in-law, Iñaki, and his daughter, the Infant Cristina, were implicated in a corruption case."
The King clearly saw that some damage control was required, and his response made history. He became the first Spanish King to publicly say sorry to his people, apologising for his trip just after being discharged from the clinic where he was treated for his own hunting accident.
"I'm very sorry. I made a mistake, and it won't happen again."
I hope that the Spanish know that I love them, really. I'm just quite amused, sometimes...
'British' Vs 'Spanish' Queue, although apparently this was from a Galician blogger, who found queues in Asia very disorderly.
Enter the building.
Greet everyone.
Ask '¿Quién es el último?' (Who's the last one?)
Take note of who says 'yo.' (Me.)
Stand wherever the heck you please.
When the next person comes in, and asks '¿Quién es el último?', say 'yo.'
Talk, very loudly, to your long-lost friend, whom you have just noticed in the 'queue.'
Keep an eye on that 'yo' who was before you.
Once they have been served, approach the desk, and do whatever you came to do.
This is applicable to almost any queue, but especially in the bank, and at the post office.
While searching for the images, I came across this (much more informed) blog entry on the subject.
Upshot of it all:
"At first blush, to an outsider, it may seem that Spain is hardly a country with strong norms about lining up ("hacer cola"). One rarely encounters here the orderly, single-file lines in Anglosaxon countries, the distinctive "queue culture" for which the British are famously fastidious."
You're likely to be asked:
""¿Quién es el último [en la cola]?" (Who is the last person [in line]?)
"¿Hay que coger número/turno?" (Does one need to grab a number/turn?)
These represent the two ways in which Spaniards form their virtual queues, and are why they thus feel no compunction about physically lining up, and indeed are more likely to clump together in social groups in what appears a completely disorganized manner."
"So, yes, Spaniards do know how to queue, they just do so virtually."
Had this called out to me when I was dressed as 'Andalucía' for carnaval in Cádiz, and have finally decided to find out what it was about. (Translation: Andalusia, there's only one.)
Well, I had asked a colleague, who told me it was a tourism slogan. But I hadn't looked at any ads in which it appeared.
