Six months before turning sixty-five I contacted the Slovene pension authorities with which I have been in touch since about ten years ago. Having worked four full years in Slovenia, I expected a little something in my retirement. After many false starts, some six months ago I was informed by the Slovene authorities that I had to go through the Croatian pension authorities closest to me. This meant Pazin, and I was not too eager to go there (“This Capital of Red Tape,” May 5, 2011). However, a few months ago I went to Pazin and found the right office without any trouble at all (“Pazin Has a Chance,” October 24, 2011). As I learned, I had to apply for a Croatian pension, which I would not get because I had never worked in this country, but that I should put a claim for a Slovene pension into the same application. The two countries have an agreement for such things. The expected rejection from Croatian pension authorities has just arrived. And so has the entirely unexpected rejection from the Slovene authorities. Four years is not enough for a Slovene pension, they explain pithily. The minimum period for this privilege is fifteen years. I am flabbergasted, of course. This is something they could have told me ten years ago! Which only goes to show that the Slovene bureaucracy is not far from the Croatian bureaucracy in stupidity. Brotherly stupidity, that is.