SHARE
COPY LINK
For members

LIFE IN SPAIN

Lista Robinson: What to know about Spain’s opt-out option for spam calls

Getting annoyed by those bothersome cold calls trying to sell you something in Spain? There's a system that might help.

Lista Robinson: What to know about Spain's opt-out option for spam calls
Photo: Karolina Kaboompics/Pexels.

Spam calls are something of a problem in Spain; anyone who lives here can tell you that. The government has tried to do something about it, though rather ineffectually so far.

READ MORE: Why Spain’s law to ban spam calls has failed

It’s been a year since the Spanish government first brought in legislation to try and stop spam calls, but for practically everyone in Spain these infuriating marketing and advertising cold calls nonetheless continue.

According to a survey by consumer rights group Facua published at the beginning of July 2024, almost everyone polled (98 percent) continue to receive unsolicited sales calls. 

READ ALSO: Spain to roll out another law banning cold calls by energy companies

Despite the legislation, almost seven out of ten had received more than five spam calls in the last month. 

So, what can you do about it? Is there anything you can do about it?

Many in Spain turn to the Lista Robinson (Robinson List) to try and find a solution to these bothersome cold calls.

What is the Robinson List?

According to the Robinson List website: “It is a free advertising exclusion service, available to consumers, which aims to reduce the amount of advertising they receive.

The Robinson List Service falls within the scope of personalised advertising, i.e. advertising that a user receives targeted to his or her name.”

It’s a list you can add yourself to in order to exclude (or reduce) your name from these sorts of spam mail, cold calls and unsolicited advertising in the post.

It doesn’t cost anything to sign up either: “It’s a free service; there is no additional cost to join the list, nor is there any additional cost to remain on the list or to add new telephone numbers or email addresses.” 

Signing up to the list is quick and easy, and you can add several different phone numbers, e-mail addresses and postal addresses.

However, although it reduces how much unwanted advertising you receive, it doesn’t completely prevent commercial calls and spam mail in the post, as there are lots of companies that simply don’t consult the list before making calls or sending advertising.

It should also be noted that the Robinson List doesn’t stop us from receiving advertising from companies with which we already have a contractual relationship. This basically means that your phone or wifi company could call you up to try and sell you a new deal or offer, and that this would be within the rules even if you’re signed up to the list.

Nor does it include companies that we gave our consent to receive advertising, something we can do in a myriad of ways without even realising we’ve done it.

All in all, being on the Robinson will likely cut the number of cold calls and amount of spam mail you receive, but it won’t stop them completely.

Note that the service is simple and free, but not immediate: it takes around 3 months from the time you sign up for the Robinson List to take effect.

How do I sign up?

  • Go to the Robinson List website.
  • Click on apúntate a la lista (sign up to the list).
  • Register with your details.
  • Once you’ve finished your registration and had it confirmed via email, you’ll be able to choose which type of calls and mail you no longer wish to receive including e-mail, telephone (mobile and landline), post and SMS/MMS messages, and add the various numbers and contact addresses you want to be excluded.

Member comments

Log in here to leave a comment.
Become a Member to leave a comment.

OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: My surreal experience with a civil servant is normal in Spain

The Local Spain’s editor Alex Dunham shares one example of the state-funded impunity of many of the country’s civil servants, an experience that anyone who lives in Spain can relate to. 

OPINION: My surreal experience with a civil servant is normal in Spain

So I needed to renew my digital certificate, the electronic signature which (supposedly) allows you to complete many bureaucratic processes faster and online. 

Ironically, this involves an in-person appointment. 

If it were the first time I was applying for this certificado electrónico, proving that I’m a real person and not a bot duping the Spanish administration would be a justifiable step in the process. But a renewal?

READ ALSO: Why is it so hard to get an appointment at some of Spain’s foreigner offices?

In any case, after having lived in Spain most of my life, I know how things go here. But it never ceases to amaze me how the system works.

As I enter my local government department, I’m immediately greeted by a civil guard officer shouting “¡Espere! ¿Tiene cita previa?” (“Wait! Do you have a prior appointment?”).

I reply that I do, thinking to myself that there is not a chance in hell I’m going to waste my time rocking up without one. 

A half-asleep civil servant manning the other side of the door echoes the guardia civil: “Do you have a cita previa?”

Again I confirm that I do. She then crosses out my name from a sheet of paper and asks me to remain seated and wait my turn.

The gentleman that walks in just after me isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t have a cita and both gatekeepers are all too happy to point to a poster which states that a prior appointment is a must, and then escort him out. 

“I’m on holiday for the next two weeks, so I’m sure I’ll be able to book my cita online and come back again,” the man replies in an accepting, almost subservient manner. 

To be clear, this government building is empty. There are no queues of people, no clacking of keyboards, no loud phone conversations – it’s dead. 

For the department dealing with standard bureaucratic tasks like mine, there are four desks with computers but only one funcionaria (civil servant) working. It’s 11am on a Thursday.

As I wait to be seen, I overhear a woman asking one of the gatekeepers if this is where a certain bureaucratic process can be done. The civil servant replies that she “doesn’t think so”, that she should try another government building, not this one, reiterating again that she “thinks” it’s the other place. Anywhere but here.

I recall all the times where I’ve been directed back and forth between different public administrations on the opposite side of town, as on both sides gatekeepers tried to pass the buck. 

After a 15-minute wait, it’s my turn. The civil servant walks up to me and asks “Hi, do you have a prior appointment?”. Once again, I nod. 

As we both sit down, this particularly chatty funcionaria enquires how she can help while she clears notelets and papers lying on her desk, adding that “my life is so busy right now”.

“I need to renew my digital certificate, here is my TIE and my confirmation code,” I reply. 

I’ve learnt from experience that it’s always good to double-check Spanish civil servants have got your foreign surname right, reiterate that your second name is not your first surname (as Spaniards have two surnames), and if necessary, slowly spell out your full name with the phonetic alphabet. 

Trust me, it’s probably worth it. For a few months, the Spanish government had my second name down as “Pauel” rather than Paul. 

Then the civil servant looks at my address on her screen and exclaims: “Oh my! We used to be neighbours!”.

“Really? What a coincidence!”, I respond. 

For the next 25 minutes, I learnt a lot about Mercedes. 

She told me about her recent move to a nearby coastal village, she showed me photos of her new penthouse, I learnt that it had cost her a lot but that she’d had her mortgage approved because she was a civil servant, that she used to wear stilettos but now prefers flip-flops, that her daughter has allergy problems.

I nod and smile, but inside I’m flabbergasted. 

I think about how many people could have been seen while Mercedes tells me her life story, I recall how hard it would have been for me to secure a mortgage while I was self-employed and working non-stop, I wonder if the civil servants who have not yet recognised my wife’s foreign qualification after five years have the same work ethic as her.

READ MORE: How Spain is ruining the careers of thousands of qualified foreigners

Above all, I realise – as I have done over and over again – that Spain’s public administration and its army of minions are the worst thing about this amazing country. 

Billions of euros have been handed to Spain by the EU for the country’s “digital transformation”. Have painstaking bureaucratic processes become easier as a result? Absolutely not.

At the start of year, the Spanish government proudly announced that it would scrap the compulsory prior appointment (cita previa obligatoria), implemented during the pandemic but kept in place for convenience ever since, even though it’s been deemed illegal by countless lawyers. Have they actually gotten rid of it? Un no rotundo as they say in Spanish, a resounding no. 

Something is severely wrong with a state which allows its employees to have zero accountability when serving the public. 

It is virtually impossible for funcionarios to be sacked. They are fully aware of that and do their jobs as they see fit, at their own leisurely pace and often without the necessary knowledge that their position requires. 

Not only that, they are rewarded with more holidays and overall rights than private sector workers, and in the eyes of Spanish banks, their extremely safe nómina (salary) makes applying for loans and mortgages a piece of cake for them.

READ MORE: Why so many Spaniards ‘dream’ of becoming civil servants

‘If you can’t beat them, join them’ is the attitude of millions of Spaniards who hate how the public administration works, but end up becoming funcionarios themselves.

I’ve had far more unpleasant experiences with civil servants before, and on this occasion, rather than wanting to point out to Mercedes that she was taking an awfully long time to do a very simple task, I found myself actually thinking that maybe our new ‘friendship’ could help me cut corners in future.

In Spain, the “servant” in civil servant applies to the person on the other side of the desk. 

It’s something that all of us living in Spain find out, usually sooner rather than later. 

How about you? Have you had any surreal experiences with civil servants in Spain? Leave a comment below!

SHOW COMMENTS