Dear American friends,
Our President recently imposed tariffs on every other country on Earth. The tariffs also struck places that aren’t a country at all, like the tariff on a small island in the Indian Ocean inhabited only by penguins.
I try to keep an open mind.
But a tariff on penguins?
Are there two sides to that policy? Try asking a penguin. Would you understand its answer? Could you communicate the concept of a tariff to a penguin? [No one seems capable of explaining it to our President.]
Just imagine the news from the Indian Ocean:
Today the parliamentarian penguins voted unanimously to impose retaliatory tariffs on America!
The spokes-penguin for the Heard Island parliament addressed the press. She insisted that her island would never yield to America’s economic bullying!
Sounds silly?
Well, penguins are very silly birds.
* * *
Now, I was inclined to oppose our tariffs even before they were announced. Economists were against them: the tariffs would reduce productivity and increase prices. I did not like the sound of those predictions.
And today, the penguins are already coming home to roost.
Only a few weeks after the imposition of the tariffs, the California west coast ports are no longer backed up. Offshore the slow boats from China have changed course and sailed elsewhere.
Onshore, across America, Amazon deliveries have slowed down so much so that UPS has laid off 20,000 drivers.
And on Monday, the electrical grid all over Spain and Portugal shut down! I witnessed it firsthand.
You think the tariffs had nothing to do with the collapse of Spain’s power grid? Well, so far, nobody knows for sure what happened here. Nothing should be ruled out.
Regardless, Spain was responsible for crystalizing my pessimistic opinion on tariffs and engaging my vitriolic righteousness.
It wasn’t Spain’s blackout that did it.
It’s Spain’s tariffs. They ruined my Christmas.
Here’s the true tale of how it happened.
Warning: some of the following content may be unsuitable for adults.
* * *
I have a friend. Let’s call my friend CW.
For many years during the holiday season, CW and spouse received from Spain (that’s me) a Christmas gift, a box of cookies called Danielitos handcrafted in the Valley of Lecrin. I mail the Danielitos via the Spanish Postal Service (“Correos”).
Once I pay Correos the postage, the Danielitos are delivered straight to CW’s California door without further effort or cost to me or CW. They arrive two weeks later. Some of the cookies crumble on the way, but they are still delicious. I get a warm glow thinking of my friends enjoying even the last crumbs in the bottom of the box over a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. Their joy is so rapturous that it spans both North America and the Atlantic Ocean.
CW, being a thoughtful and appreciative friend, decided this year to get the holiday joy flowing both ways. CW sent us a Christmas gift! CW employed the United States Postal Service (“USPS”), a traditionally reliable courier. But…after paying the postage and turning over custody of the gift…then and only then, the USPS informed CW that the recipients of her holiday spirit might be obliged to pay $150 to the Spanish authorities. Crimony!
CW pleaded with the USPS to be allowed to pay the money upfront.
“No. It has to be paid in Spain.”
CW emailed me and offered to compensate me for whatever cost Spain might exact, but how could I accept this offer? In the true spirit of Christmas, I replied that I would not accept any remuneration and that I would take care of it.
Oh, the naïve American living abroad.
A few weeks later, I received a one-page letter from Correos. It was indecipherable.
Why?
Because institutional documents in Spain are written in sixteenth-century prose. Official scriveners must state simple facts in language so Byzantine that the reader soon develops a migraine from confusion. This prose style elevates the writer to a superior class of individuals commonly known as a bureaucrat.
I asked my spouse, a native Spaniard, to read the letter and explain it to me, but she soon gave up. Notwithstanding the letter’s obfuscation, I plodded through it several times. Eventually, I discovered its secrets. Here’s what the letter told me to do:
1. Go online.
2. Find the website Correos.es.
3. Register myself with Correos.es.
4. Identify the tracking number of the gift from America.
5. Fill out a form with a lot of personal information to prove who I was.
6. Check the box to tell Correos.es that I wanted to receive the package from America.
7. Print out the form.
8. Sign the form.
9. Scan the signed form.
10. Upload the signed form back to Correos.es.
11. Wait for Correos.es to tell me what to do next.
12. Complete all of the foregoing within five “natural” days or the package would be returned to CW.
The letter arrived on Wednesday. I didn’t pay any attention to it until Friday and waited until Sunday to work out the puzzle. Nevertheless, I got all twelve items above done before dark on the fifth day.
Three days later I got an email from Correos.es. This correspondence was equally antiquated. I mean confusing.
My procedure for dealing with confusing correspondence is to ignore it for at least two days. I always hope my subconscious will sort out some of the nonsense by the time I look at it again.
This correspondence also had a five-day deadline. Now to avoid having the gift returned to CW, I had to complete the following before time ran out:
1. Go online.
2. Open up my bank account with Santander, which means entering my username and password, finding my cell phone, opening messaging on the cell phone, copying the two-phase authentication code, and typing the code into Santander’s window on my computer screen.
3. Pay a tariff by making a transfer payment from my account to Correos.es with the “No. de presupuesto” written into the “concepto” box.
4. Find out what the hell was the “No. de presupuesto” because it was not easily discoverable from the letter (it was hidden under a bar code).
5. Wait for up to two weeks for further instructions from Correos.es while Spanish Customs examines the package.
6. If the package passes inspection, it may get sent to us. If it does not pass, it will be returned to CW, and I will be charged for the cost of the inspection. Spanish Customs will collect the charge from the tariff payment I already made to Spanish Correos.es. Anything left over may be refunded.
CW’s gift remains stalled in Spanish Customs at the Barajas Airport in Madrid, a very long way from the Valley of Lecrin.
Do you see now how much trouble it causes to send a gift into another country when the recipient country imposes a tariff?
I only hope that, having heard this story, you will do everything you can to persuade America to turn away from a ruinous tariff policy. It isn’t just the money! Do you really want to suffer the bureaucratic nightmare of orchestrating the rescue of your international deliveries from both the United States Customs Service and the United States Postal Service?
Until now, you have received gifts from abroad for free and delivered to your doorstep with no strings attached.
For everyone’s sake, but especially your own, step back from the abyss. Imagine this tariff terrorism multiplied for millions and millions of imports.
You don’t know how lucky you have been.
I hope you do not have to find out.
UFA
Don Hergumino