Tuesday marked t-minus three weeks until my departure to Madrid. I passed the day with my Iraqis, blissfully unconcerned with the visa that will determine whether or not I'm actually able to make the journey as planned. Why, you ask, would I treat such an important matter with such nonchalance?
Let's go back to July 25, the day I made a phone call to my dearly beloved consulate in Houston. The woman who answered the phone seemed not only awake, but I dare say, even cheerful! I asked what I needed to include with the apostilled background check, but she informed me that my visa had already been approved, so I didn't have to send it all. Overlooking the fact that obtaining said background check had been a giant pain in the ass that now appeared totally unnecessary, I quietly rejoiced in the fact that I would be able to go to Spain legally.
But alas, on Wednesday, I discovered that the Houston consulate had not yet finished with its lessons in "How to Be a Hindrance". After checking MyFedEx religiously to see if the prepaid return envelope had been sent, I noticed something odd. It hadn't been sent. Phone call time! Lesson 2: "Intermediate Impediments" proceeded thusly:
Step 1: Immediately Put on Hold- After several rings to the Departamento de Visados, sleepy Spaniard answered the phone with a gruff "Espere un momento por favor" followed by hold music (unfortunately not flamenco).
Step 2: Fail to Understand- Yes, I was speaking English in a moment that I probably could have handled perfectly well in Spanish, but let's be frank: "I'm approved. Where's my visa?" is not a terribly complex concept. Nonetheless, sleepy Spaniard followed my brief story with "So... I don't understand why you're calling."
Step 3: Comprehend and Divert- After another short explanation, sleepy Spaniard asks "So you've been approved but your visa has not been issued?" Apparently "issued" was the keyword of consular parlance that I'd failed to utilize, but overjoyed that he'd finally grasped my problem, hoping for a solution, I confirmed his theory. "Please hold."
At this point, sleepy Spaniard had achieved what I like to call "optimal obstruction." Not only had he avoided giving me any useful piece of information, but he'd done so with as few words and in as little time as possible. Well played, sir!
We continue to part 2 of the lesson, this one taught by a more awake and decidedly angrier lady that I shall affectionately call Irritated Isabel.
Step 1: Say "Hello" with the least friendly tone possible- This one is rather self-explanatory, and suffice it to say, Isabel was a MASTER.
Step 2: Sigh and cut off the caller's story- Though I was clever enough to differentiate between "approve" and "issue" this time, my clarity seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect. It only further frustrated our dear Isabel, who evidently had been on edge all morning, waiting to pounce. After a laborious sigh, she stopped me. "Your name?"
Step 3: Raise voice- "Sir, your visa has not been sent yet!" This, I'd believed, was apparent. However, Irritated Isabel felt that it was a vital enough detail to be delivered several decibels higher than the previous conversation. I calmly asked her when it might be sent, and if I was correct in my understanding that it had already been approved.
Step 4: Avoid question, repeat "exception" as many times as possible- I thought my previous phone calls had set a record for repetitions of "exception," but I was sorely mistaken. Isabel made the previous woman look like an amateur. It would appear, given her monologue, that the consulate's decision to allow applicants to complete the visa process via mail without coming in person, was actually a trick so that they could find out which applicants they hate. The whole "putting the visa into the pre-addressed, pre-paid envelope" step is extremely taxing, after all.
Step 5: Yell- This is the final and most important step. After I pointed out that I'd included a prepaid envelope in which to return my visa, Isabel broke. "SIR, THIS ISSUING PROCESS CAN TAKE MORE THAN THREE WEEKS. YOU ONLY SENT IN YOUR VISA IN MID-JULY. MAYBE YOU SHOULD WAIT A FEW WEEKS BEFORE YOU CALL AGAIN, AND IF YOU NEED IT SO BADLY YOU CAN COME GET IT IN PERSON AND YOU'LL HAVE IT THE SAME DAY!" At this moment, I figured that pointing out that Fulbright had requested that they expedite our process was a poor choice. Even poorer would be pointing out the absurdity inherent in the fact that they can issue it within hours if I come in person, but can't put it in an envelope when I call. So the phone call ended with a curt goodbye.
While I value the how-to lesson, I was not in a terribly good mood for the rest of the day.
When I get to Spain, I will remedy this with one of God's gifts to man: churros con chocolate.
Let's go back to July 25, the day I made a phone call to my dearly beloved consulate in Houston. The woman who answered the phone seemed not only awake, but I dare say, even cheerful! I asked what I needed to include with the apostilled background check, but she informed me that my visa had already been approved, so I didn't have to send it all. Overlooking the fact that obtaining said background check had been a giant pain in the ass that now appeared totally unnecessary, I quietly rejoiced in the fact that I would be able to go to Spain legally.
 |
| V for Victory |
But alas, on Wednesday, I discovered that the Houston consulate had not yet finished with its lessons in "How to Be a Hindrance". After checking MyFedEx religiously to see if the prepaid return envelope had been sent, I noticed something odd. It hadn't been sent. Phone call time! Lesson 2: "Intermediate Impediments" proceeded thusly:
Step 1: Immediately Put on Hold- After several rings to the Departamento de Visados, sleepy Spaniard answered the phone with a gruff "Espere un momento por favor" followed by hold music (unfortunately not flamenco).
Step 2: Fail to Understand- Yes, I was speaking English in a moment that I probably could have handled perfectly well in Spanish, but let's be frank: "I'm approved. Where's my visa?" is not a terribly complex concept. Nonetheless, sleepy Spaniard followed my brief story with "So... I don't understand why you're calling."
Step 3: Comprehend and Divert- After another short explanation, sleepy Spaniard asks "So you've been approved but your visa has not been issued?" Apparently "issued" was the keyword of consular parlance that I'd failed to utilize, but overjoyed that he'd finally grasped my problem, hoping for a solution, I confirmed his theory. "Please hold."
At this point, sleepy Spaniard had achieved what I like to call "optimal obstruction." Not only had he avoided giving me any useful piece of information, but he'd done so with as few words and in as little time as possible. Well played, sir!
We continue to part 2 of the lesson, this one taught by a more awake and decidedly angrier lady that I shall affectionately call Irritated Isabel.
Step 1: Say "Hello" with the least friendly tone possible- This one is rather self-explanatory, and suffice it to say, Isabel was a MASTER.
Step 2: Sigh and cut off the caller's story- Though I was clever enough to differentiate between "approve" and "issue" this time, my clarity seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect. It only further frustrated our dear Isabel, who evidently had been on edge all morning, waiting to pounce. After a laborious sigh, she stopped me. "Your name?"
Step 3: Raise voice- "Sir, your visa has not been sent yet!" This, I'd believed, was apparent. However, Irritated Isabel felt that it was a vital enough detail to be delivered several decibels higher than the previous conversation. I calmly asked her when it might be sent, and if I was correct in my understanding that it had already been approved.
Step 4: Avoid question, repeat "exception" as many times as possible- I thought my previous phone calls had set a record for repetitions of "exception," but I was sorely mistaken. Isabel made the previous woman look like an amateur. It would appear, given her monologue, that the consulate's decision to allow applicants to complete the visa process via mail without coming in person, was actually a trick so that they could find out which applicants they hate. The whole "putting the visa into the pre-addressed, pre-paid envelope" step is extremely taxing, after all.
Step 5: Yell- This is the final and most important step. After I pointed out that I'd included a prepaid envelope in which to return my visa, Isabel broke. "SIR, THIS ISSUING PROCESS CAN TAKE MORE THAN THREE WEEKS. YOU ONLY SENT IN YOUR VISA IN MID-JULY. MAYBE YOU SHOULD WAIT A FEW WEEKS BEFORE YOU CALL AGAIN, AND IF YOU NEED IT SO BADLY YOU CAN COME GET IT IN PERSON AND YOU'LL HAVE IT THE SAME DAY!" At this moment, I figured that pointing out that Fulbright had requested that they expedite our process was a poor choice. Even poorer would be pointing out the absurdity inherent in the fact that they can issue it within hours if I come in person, but can't put it in an envelope when I call. So the phone call ended with a curt goodbye.
While I value the how-to lesson, I was not in a terribly good mood for the rest of the day.
When I get to Spain, I will remedy this with one of God's gifts to man: churros con chocolate.
 |
| Viscous Joy |
Andrew, read your blog about preparations and visa arranging with interest. Sounds very frustrating but glad to hear all is well and I gather you are now in Madrid. How was the tomato festival? Looks VERY messy and yes highly acidic.
ReplyDelete