Britain…

Today I had to take a day off work to go to a passport interview. I had to take a whole day off to go to an interview which was supposed to last half an hour but in the end lasted under fifteen minutes.

Since last year I’ve been trying to apply for a passport, every month I’ve not had enough money and never sent the application. Then I moved and had to redo the forms, again… etc etc. A few months ago a shoot comes up with work and for once instead of being on a freezing cold baron part of England, it’s in sunny Cyprus near a beach. A month before we’re supposed to be leaving, our company gives us the green light to go and I have to send off for a passport ASAP.

I have to post my picture and the form to my friend on the other side of the country to counter-sign it, as I haven’t known anyone over here for 2 years yet, then the day I get it back (2 days late, despite using 2 first class stamps), I rush to the Post Office to use their check and send service. I get there and the first thing the woman behind the counter does is spot the cheque in amongst the forms. ‘No, sorry dear, they don’t take cheques anymore’

‘but the booklet says…’

‘yes dear, I know, but they no longer take them’

‘can I just pay by card here then?’

‘no dear, no’

I take my forms back and rush back to where the booklet was that contains all of the information for how to fill in the form, what they want etc and fill in the card part of the booklet, rip that page out and rush back to the Post Office.

This time the first woman I went to behind the counter is busy, so I go to another. The first thing she does is discard the card form I’d just filled it, saying I could pay for it by card in a minute (20 minutes wasted…). The woman checks the forms and immediately gets stuck. She’s noticed that I used to be on my mother’s passport and that that passport hasn’t been included in the application, even though it doesn’t have to be. Once I get that cleared up, she gets stuck on the fact that my mother had a different name at birth to the one she has now and it’s different to mine. Women do this! They get married and their names change! God sake! This took 15 minutes and another Post Office worker to clear up and to get her to understand. Eventually, after some racist comments (not against me or anyone nearby, just anyone who tries to enter the UK…), she lets my passport be sent off and takes nearly £90 from me.

I hear nothing back from the passport office for a few weeks and then out of the blue, I get a letter saying I’m required to have an interview.

Now, I don’t have a problem with the interview as such. I don’t mind that they want to double check things. I find it strange that a total stranger has the right to declare you as being you when they met you 10 minutes previously, but I guess it’s not such a bad idea. The thing I did have a problem with, was this;

I phoned and asked to book an interview the moment I opened my letter. There were no close offices that give interviews, the closest was fully booked unless I wished to try again in a couple of weeks, which I couldn’t do, so instead I had to go over an hour away, spending more money, to go to an interview at either 8am or 4:45pm. You’d think, by hearing these times, that this place was really busy and had a constant influx of people. It doesn’t.

I arrived at this place at 3:50pm. I waited outside until I was allowed to enter at my allocated time of ‘10 minutes before the interview’ at 4:30pm. Not one single person came in or out in that time. In fact, 2 workers in the building watched me from the doorway, waiting until I could come in, for half an hour. When I get upstairs, there are 5 booths and several waiting room chairs. Not one of them is occupied.

For god sake.

The interview, which was supposed to take half an hour, took fifteen minutes. I’d left my house at 2pm, I got back at 7pm. For a fifteen minute interview. As there’s only one car in my household, I couldn’t even do half a day of work, as then one of us would have been stranded. I had to take a whole day off for that?!

Well fuck me.

And you know what? I don’t actually know if I passed their interview or not.

£120 down… possibly for nothing.

This time next week I shall finally have a brand spanking new super duper top of the range iMac. Now I can finally get things started again, I’ve not had a working computer in nearly 2 years!

Excuse my whilst I explode with joy!

You know when you’re a kid and your parents tell you you can’t have pancakes for dinner? They were lying.

Mmm mmm!