I rarely rehash old news or write about the same thing twice, but allow me this small exception because I rather suspect the whole country just might be better off because of it.

The Sheehan shooting saga served to underline the importance of public servants – the police in that sorry case. Wider still, it drew attention to those front-of-house staff who should be there to assist the public. It is blindingly obvious that the right people should be carefully selected for such a sensitive and crucial role.

When it comes to the front-liners – those employed to answer telephones, respond to e-mails or otherwise deal directly with people on the outside – being personable, friendly, ultra-efficient and courteous is the sine qua non.

There has got to be a basic code of customer care. I can’t emphasise this enough. If I could underscore and uppercase some words, I would.

This rant applies to both the private and public sectors. However, given that many private sector positions do attract commissions and performance bonuses, employees in that sphere frequently do smile and go the extra mile. That said, when it comes to civil servants, who as ‘servants of the state’ ought to offer a dedicated public service, such is notoriously bad on account of a top-heavy and impenetrable bureaucracy.

For the most part you are dealing with a ‘babbu’ mentality – a term once used to describe, half-endearingly, half-despairingly, the humble clerks of long-vanished British India.

At their worst, such types are uncooperative and unimaginative and thrive on being deliberately inflexible. It’s almost as if their being trapped in a repetitive job makes them want to make your day as hellish as they possibly can.

I got caught in a bureaucratic crossfire 10 days ago which left me shaken and completely incensed. Nothing out of the ordinary – just a (not so) civil servant at one of our ministries, whose behaviour I found objectionable and offensive from the word ‘go’. Her disposition screamed “How can I not help you today?”

Initially, I ignored the barbs and the antagonism and smiled through the whole exchange, hoping she’d thaw as they sometimes do. But it was not to be.

When I eventually asked her name (simply to be able to follow-up the request a few days later, without having to be put through 30 different people with no idea of what I was talking about), she pointedly refused to do so. It was then that I let rip – nothing near what I should have told her, but sufficient for her to know that I was not going to take her nonsense sitting down.

There has got to be a basic code of customer care. I can’t emphasise this enough

I don’t think Meryl Streep is unique in this. One doesn’t have to be a highly paid, successful movie-star to reach that wonderful state of inner comprehension where you suddenly realise – ‘enough is enough’ – that your patience has been worn thin and you’ve been around long enough to be able to tell it like it is. We all get there eventually. It’s quite empowering really, knowing that no, you really don’t have to take ‘it’ anymore.

I have finally resigned myself to the fact that Malta is not – and probably will never be – a welcoming ‘can-do-country’, in the same way America is, for instance, where foreigners are not treated any less and where services don’t depend on who you know.

But there are certain pluses that come with having lived your whole life in a small country like ours, and one of these is networking. Of having probably gone to school or university with the Prime Minister, his chief-of-staff, any number of ministers, someone who works in the top echelons, or who, at any rate, knows someone who does.

So truthfully, if you need something badly enough, you can usually make it happen. You can report a hostile and impolite employee sooner than you would in the US. But why does it have to be like that? Why does something which would take seven minutes if you were ‘important’ enough, or if you happened to be on intimate terms with the civil servant, take seven months or even seven days?

Why do you have to call in favours and pull strings to get someone from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to be courteous, or for the Department of Education or Citizenship to answer an e-mail or call back?

And while on the subject of citizenship, does anyone even work there anymore? Rude or not, could someone, anyone, just please answer the phone? That particular department was always particularly Orwellian, but it has become progressively worse. Every time I’m forced to go there, I feel that the only solution to getting round the implacable bureaucracy is plain, pure, unadulterated bribery. It’s like being caught in the middle of some African resettlement centre (and this isn’t even a reference to the hundreds who are waiting in line).

What the government needs to understand is that there’s the dignity of the State at stake here, which is constantly being called into question. At the end of the day, it’s the front-liners and people who work within the government who will make or break the country’s overall economic success.

Now, can you imagine being a foreign resident or a tourist in this climate with absolutely no family or connections to fall back on? Most have travelled some way to this small island, prepared to invest, to spend, to be part of a community and they certainly don’t deserve this sort of grief.

Perhaps the time has come for a Customer Satisfaction Score (CSAT) within the whole civil service. Clerks should wear name tags and we should be able to rate our overall satisfaction with the service we have received on any given day.

Perhaps employees would smile more and be more helpful if they stood to gain something.

Now how’s that for a New Year’s resolution?

michelaspiteri@gmail.com

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