Sean the Oblivious

So, I thought that I would give you a quick story today. The other day, I was racing to get to my train home, running a little late. Oblivious to everything I must have step in something, but nonetheless, I made it to my train on time and got myself a seat. I took off my coat, scarf, back pack, sat down and crossed one leg under the other. From there I sat and played merrily on my phone. During this train ride I notice some strange glances at me, but I don’t think anything of it. About an hour into my train ride, my leg is starting to go to sleep from sitting on it so I start to maneuver myself about when I finally notice something on the floor.

Oh dear god!! Someone has smeared dog poop all over the floor! What the hell, what kind of asshole would do something like that! That’s vile! Then I look at my pant leg. Shit… figuratively and literally, shit. All over the bottom half of my pant leg is covered. Then the smell hits me. Holy hell, how did I not notice this earlier? The most vile and foul smelling scent strikes my nose and I almost audibly gasp. This has to be why all these people have been looking at me. Looking at my shoes, it’s becomes painfully obvious that the ass was me.

What am I going to do? Well, there is only ten minutes left on my journey. There is no way that I’m going to be able to clean this. I mean this is going to need industrial cleaning. Do I get up and move? No, that will just draw attention to this mess. I decide I should do the only sensible thing. Sit and pretend there is nothing wrong. Of course, now that I have noticed the mess, the smell is unbearable. My eyes are watering it takes everything I have to survive the last ten minutes. I get to my stop run off the train and then it gets more interesting.

I’m now at a large tube stop with thousands of people and a shit covered pant leg. At least the smell and the majority of the mess is at least leaving with the train and I don’t want to think about the poor souls that have to take that exact train out of London later that night. I decide that the easiest thing to do is walk with my headphones in and head down and make haste for home. First a busy tube and then a busier canary wharf and finally home and directly to the washing machine. In the end my thoughts took me back to Morenci and the personality profile that they made me take while there. Apparently they were right; I have almost zero attention to detail. 

Sean vs Deportation

I know that I should probably write something about the Olympics. I mean, they were in London, I saw a few events and they were in general a bit of a big deal. But here’s the thing. I really don’t want to write about them and it has been stopping me from writing anything else. So here is the story, Rebecca and I went to some things. It was good and fun was had by all. I want to however, talk about a different story. This particular story starts in August. It was a cold, blustery day and there was an ominous feel. Okay, that’s a lie. I have no idea what kind of day it was, but it’s my story so you have to go with it.

So on this warm sunny day in August I have a meeting with human resources. They are concerned. It’s come to their attention that my work visa is going to expire in October, the 17^th to be precise. The biggest reason for concern was that they had just hired an American to work in HR and they were still awaiting his visa many months after applying for it. The concern was the expected wait time was told to them to be a minimum of 14 weeks.  Thankful for their concern, I reassured them that all would be okay. Not only was I applying for a spousal visa, one of the easier ones to procure, but I had a big city lawyer working on the case for me with personal attachment to ensuring my success. Additionally, because Rebecca at the time was in France, it would make applying a lot more difficult until she was back in the UK in September.

A few weeks later, I was asked if I could go to Sweden for work during the middle of September. Shit, well, my passport was going to be away for my visa so this is getting more complicated than I would like. Add to the fact that I was hoping to go to Munich as well for some festival about Oktober or something… but sure I’ll go. Time continues and I go to a wedding in Vancouver, while there I use some super powers, and register for a visa appointment using an internet connection in Montreal and all is going well. As the middle of September approaches, another meeting with HR is set up. This time, there is more concern, as well as a warning that without a visa soon they are going to have to fire me. Personally, I think that this is a bit obvious, but what do I know. On top of that, a pool starts to develop about if I will be deported or not. Sometimes I really wonder what I have done to have so little faith in me. Oh well, I’m not going to worry about it.

Finally, after much preparation, almost entirely done by my wonderful wife, I have a binder full of the required documentation to get my visa. This isn’t some small thing. This is a binder the size of a printer. I mean, I was worried about dropping it as it may crush someone and deal grievous bodily harm and if that happens I’m sure that wouldn’t look good on my visa application. So we pack up and head to our 1 pm appointment. As we are leaving I ask Rebecca if she has something to do while at the government office, but she’s confident that since we have an appointment, she won’t need anything to do. Rookie mistake! We arrive and she seems to be right. We walk in the door, wait a minute and then get directed to an x-ray machine and metal detector to be scanned for security. Then since we have an appointment, we go directly to the first counter were we sign in and get our number for the day. Directly after that we go to the next counter and pay the fee. Again, no waiting and I’m thinking that Rebecca may have been right and the UK system may just be very efficient. While, paying my number gets called to go to the desk to start my actual application process. At this point Rebecca is looking very smug. However, upon arrival at the first desk, things start to turn to what I had expected. At this counter, we are faced with an elderly gentleman who has been tasked with taking the details from our paper application and inputting them into the computer. Sitting beside him is a since young lady who proceeds to tell us that she is training the guy and please be patient. I little confused about why you would bother training someone who was already very near retirement age, I simply said ok and let them get on with it. They didn't ask for anything other than the application that we filled out, so we sat and watched the gentleman attempt to type in our details.

After what honestly, seems like decades. The guy finally said something to us. Which I promptly didn't understand a word of, and had repeated to me by the trainer. Simply put we were to go sit and wait to be called to be photographed and fingerprinted. So we waited, a quick wait to be fair, and I had my necessary identification taken from me.  At this point, the guy said to sit in a certain in a certain area and wait, assuring me that the wait shouldn't be long. The time should be noted that this was at 1:30 pm.  Me, having prepared for the worse, pulled out my phone and the book I was reading on it and began to read. Time passes, I chat a little with Rebecca, read a little and people watch a bit, it’s going slow, but it’s going.  

I must say, it becomes a little frustrating as you don’t really have a clue what’s going on. The numbers are called at seemingly random and then on top of this, unlike every other system I have ever seen, there is no board showing what place in the queue you are. Instead you have two very large TV displays that are just flicking through advertisements for types of visas you can apply for. Seriously, you’re a little late. If I didn't know what visa I was applying for before coming here, I don’t think that the ads would be helpful now. So I'm starting to get annoyed. Rebecca on the other hand, she’s not doing well. Around the 3:30 mark, Rebecca is seething. Hate is flowing from her eyes. Seeing this, I ask what was bothering her.

“Counter 19.”

“What about counter 19?”

“The useless woman there has not had a single person at her desk for three hours! How can she be that inefficient? And that guy at 15, he’s doing mailed in applications. Why is he wasting an open spot to do those there? Couldn't he do those in the back and then someone else could be helping the people here?”

At this point we decide we need to ask someone about the wait and possibly what food may be available.  I make my way to the customer service desk and ask. The responses were just what I always wanted.

-Hmm, it does seem that there are still quite a few applications in front of yours.

-Wait, you close at 5 and you haven’t even looked at any of my information!

-Oh no, we won’t leave until all customers have been served. Also, there is a café upstairs, but it only accepts cash.

-Ok, well is there an ATM in the building?

-Nope, sorry.

- Ok. Well can I leave the building and come back?

-Unfortunately if you leave you will be considered to be withdrawing your application.

Wonderful, there are still many applications before mine and while there is food available, I am unable to purchase any and I have to go back and tell Rebecca this. Great… I go back to Rebecca and let her know the situation and we continue to wait. And we wait, all the while noticing a bit of a trend. People who had a lawyer with them seemed to somehow all end up being seen and getting to go before those without. It may have been a coincidence or just that we noticed those with lawyers, but it was still a bit unnerving. In the end there is nothing that we could do about it but continue to wait.

Five o'clock rolls by and then someone starts doing sweeps of the people still left. At this point they ask, “Have you handed your documents to a case worker yet?” No, I haven’t even seen a case worker, my rather large binder of documents is still untouched. This seemed to worry the lady, but nevertheless, she continued her sweep. Six o'clock rolls around and the sweep lady comes by again and asks the same question and much to my dismay, I am forced to give the same answer. “So you haven’t seen anyone since having your biometrics done?” a simple head nod and the sweeper doesn’t even continue her sweep just goes straight back to the counters.

This leaves me with some mixed emotions. First, I'm rather optimistic that I might finally start getting somewhere and second, I'm 95% sure, they completely forgot about me. Focusing on the first thought, Rebecca and I perk up and start waiting with vigour  Oh how hope is a cruel mistress. 6:15 – no movement. That’s okay; they probably needed to finish what they were doing before they could help me. 6:30 – Still no movement – Okay, well; there are still a few others up here. I’m not the only one that needs to be finished. 6:45 – Movement, What the hell?!?! More people are coming in to the waiting area. This has got to be a cruel joke. 6:50 – the sweeping lady return and simply says, go upstairs to seat 64 one of our fast people will help you out. 7:00 – You’re all done sir, have a good day.

Wait what? I've been waiting for six hours for something that took you less than ten minutes. Furthermore, of the library of documents that your website said was required you looked at 3 of them. Now, a rational person would take this as a sign of good fortune and thank their luck for being finished at this point. What do Rebecca and I do? We sit there and ask over and over if they were sure they had what they needed? After being told for a third time that my visa would now be in the mail and delivered in a week we walked left. Still flabbergasted, we left the building, found food, and then began our trek home. Next time, I think I can safely say, I won’t be the only one with a book.