How Documents Are Processed at Multifunctional Centers: A Practical Guide

You've decided to get a document. A certificate. An extract. A permit. Any piece of paper without which the state considers you non-existent. You are naive. You are full of hope. You take your passport, a folder with copies, and go to the MFC — the Multifunctional Center. A place with many functions, but not a single one of them related to issuing documents.

The answer to the question "how do they process documents at the MFC?" is unequivocal:

NOT AT ALL.

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Part I. Preparation for the visit: gather everything

Before you cross the threshold, gather your documents. All documents. And all of them again. And copies. And copies of copies. And notarized copies of copies. And a certificate confirming you have copies.

Checklist for the first visit:

✅ Passport
✅ Copy of passport (pages 2, 3, 5, 14, 17, and blank page 19 "just in case")
✅ SNILS (Russian pension insurance number)
✅ Copy of SNILS
✅ Photo 3×4 cm
✅ Photo 3.5×4.5 cm (in case 3×4 is "the wrong shade")
✅ Certificate from the housing office (ZhEK)
✅ Certificate stating you need the certificate from the housing office
✅ Receipt for state duty payment
✅ Receipt for paying the state duty for the receipt
✅ Paper folder with prongs (not a ring binder! They won't accept ring binders!)
✅ Transparent A4 sheet protector (not matte! Matte means rejection!)

Checklist for the second visit:

All the same, plus:

✅ Form 7-B (filled in with a blue pen, not black, not gel, ballpoint, 0.5 mm tip)
✅ Application addressed to the head of the territorial department
✅ Application addressed to the deputy head of the territorial department
✅ Consent to personal data processing
✅ Consent to the processing of the consent to personal data processing
✅ [simple_tooltip content='No one knows why. But without it, they won't accept it. Verified by 14 million citizens.']Certificate of no arrears on certificates[/simple_tooltip]

Part II. The terminal: gateway to the abyss

You enter. The hall. Plastic chairs. The smell of toner and hopelessness. In the corner — a terminal. You press a button. The screen flickers. A menu appears:

# MFC terminal menu, version 0.3 (beta, since 2011)
menu = {
    "1": "Document processing (UNAVAILABLE)",
    "2": "Obtaining a certificate (UNAVAILABLE)",
    "3": "Appointment scheduling (WINDOW CLOSED)",
    "4": "Service payment (CASH ONLY)",
    "5": "Complaint book (BOOK RAN OUT IN 2017)",
    "6": "Call administrator (ADMINISTRATOR ON LUNCH)",
    "7": "Just sit down",  # ← the only working option
}

choice = input("Select an option: ")

if choice != "7":
    print("Error. Try again tomorrow.")
else:
    issue_ticket(number=randint(5000, 9999))
    print("Your ticket: A-" + str(number))
    print("Now serving: A-0003")
    print("Estimated waiting time: ∞")

You take ticket A-7391. The display shows A-0002. You sit down. The chair creaks. Next to you, a woman with a string bag sighs. The process begins.

Part III. The queue: purgatory with Wi-Fi

Time flows differently at the MFC. One minute here equals forty-seven minutes outside. An hour — three days. You watch the seasons change outside the window. You see children in the hall grow up and go to the army. You watch the operator at Window No. 4 go to lunch and return with a sandwich, crumbs from which fall onto your future documents.

\u{201c}

I don't remember why I came anymore. But I can't leave. What if they call me? What if today is my day? I believe. I wait. I am part of the system.

Stages of accepting the MFC queue:

1. Denial. "No, the display is just frozen. They'll call me soon."
2. Anger. "WHY A-0003?! I'VE BEEN HERE THREE HOURS!"
3. Bargaining. "Maybe if I move to another chair, I'll get lucky?"
4. Depression. Quiet contemplation of a crack in the ceiling.
5. Acceptance. You pull out a thermos. You live here now.

Part IV. The window: meeting the Abyss

The display flashes. A-7391, Window No. 11. You jump up. Your heart pounds. You walk. You sit down. In front of you is glass. Behind the glass — Her. The operator. Keeper of the stamp. Priestess of the chancellery.

She looks at you. You look at her. The pause lasts 14 seconds, but feels like three reincarnations.

\u{201c}

So. Passport. Copy. SNILS. Copy. Certificate. Copy of the certificate. Copy of the copy. Application. Photo. Sheet protector. Folder.

...That's not the right folder. You have a ring binder. It needs to be a prong folder with side clips.

Next.

You say: "But I waited three hours..." She's already looking through you. The display lights up with the next number. You no longer exist.

Typical MFC operator phrases (translated from bureaucratic):

"You have an incomplete package of documents" → You'll be coming back five more times.

"Contact the relevant agency" → We don't know what to do. And we don't want to know.

"The document is being processed" → The document is sitting in a box. Dust on it. A spider has built a nest in the corner.

"Processing time is 30 business days" → 30 business days × 4 postponements × 2 "system is down" = 170 calendar days.

"Come back tomorrow" → Come back never.

Part V. Document "in process": mythology

Your document has been accepted. You were given a receipt. A piece of paper with a number and the phrase: "Status: in process." This means:

You can track the status on the website. It will say "In process" today. Tomorrow. In a month. In a year. The status will only change in two cases:

1. The heat death of the Universe occurs.
2. You call the hotline and stay on hold for 4 hours.

MFC hotline:

Part VI. Visit No. 5: breakthrough

You come for the sixth time. You know the operators by name. You know which yogurt Window No. 7 eats. You know the ficus in the corner is named Gennady. You are part of the ecosystem.

And then. A miracle. The operator says:

\u{201c}

Your document is ready. Almost. One signature left. From the deputy head of the department for issuing certificates and copies. But he's on a business trip. In Gelendzhik. He'll be back in November. It's May now. Come back in November.

Part VII. MFC glossary

MFC — a place with many functions, none of which are performed.
Ticket — a pass to the waiting room. Nothing more.
Window — a portal to nowhere.
"In process" — a euphemism for "in the trash."
"Incomplete package" — the ritual phrase of denial.
"Come back tomorrow" — the incantation of the infinite loop.
Hotline — a cold infinity.
State duty — the fee for the right to stand in line.
"The system is down" — the operator is playing Solitaire.

Part VIII. Life hacks from veterans

Part IX. Alternatives

"Maybe through the State Services portal?" — the naive one asks. Opens the site. Sees the button Get service. Clicks. An error appears: 504 Gateway Timeout. Refreshes. "Service temporarily unavailable." Refreshes. "To receive the service, you must personally appear at the MFC." The circle is complete. Ouroboros is pleased.

Part X. Philosophical conclusion

The MFC is not a bug in the system. The MFC is the system. The goal is not for you to get the document. The goal is for you to want to get the document. For you to come. Sit. Wait. Sigh. Leave. Return. For you to be in the process. Forever in the process. Never at the result.

The document is not a piece of paper. The document is the journey. And the journey is infinite.

\u{201c}

.........

Summary: your visit checklist

☑️ Hours spent: 23
☑️ Visits made: 7
☑️ Documents gathered: 34
☑️ Documents accepted: 0
☑️ Forms filled out: 12
☑️ Forms accepted: 0
☑️ Nerve cells lost: all
☑️ Result: NOT AT ALL

The editorial team thanks Ficus Gennady for providing the workspace and moral support. The article was prepared during the break between the 4th and 5th visits. The journalist's accreditation is still "in process." It's been two years now.