Sunday, February 18, 2007
The Fuck word and I, are well acquainted.
Christ where do I start.
Still trying to get my bloody criminal background check and fingerprints done.
Rang the local police station on Friday trying to catch Matt the local copper rostered on. Phone rang through to Blahyah, I was told he was on his way into there regarding an “incident” and wouldn’t be back in the local station for 3-4 hours, try back then. I did. Every twenty minutes. Never got onto him. Rang the next morning, once again it went through to Blahyah’s station.
“Can you tell me when someone will actually be IN the local station”
“Not til Thursday”
“What! Oh bloody hell!”
“Is something urgent?”
“I’m just trying to get a background check and fingerprints done for immigration”
“Oh you rang yesterday”
“Yes, and the day before that...okay thank you”
So who do you ring when you need a favour, why you ring yer Dad, who happens to be a mate of the other local copper Dieter, who is on annual leave. Find out off him that they can’t do it because apparently up here in the sticks we have gone all high tech and shit, it’s no longer done with ink but by laser or whatever. I’d have to go into, yep you guessed it, Blahyah.
Rang back Blahyah station to find out what I have to do etc. Just come in the cop says and to bring my money with me. The Good Dick drove me in Sunday arvo and that’s when the real fun started. Turns out its no where as simple as stated in my immigration package. And really, why in the fuck would I expect it to be.
For a start, they didn’t really know what to do, understandable as they don’t get many, if ANY criminal checks for immigration. They didn’t even have the form. Apparently I am supposed to get it off the police website and bring it with me, yes, thank you immigration package for telling me this. They have no internet access so it couldn‘t be snagged by them. Luckily one of the coppers used to work in a station where others did do a few of them, so he rang his colleague and she faxed him up the form. Okay so now we are getting somewhere I thought.
I needed so many forms of identification. One had to be a photo id. Whips out my drivers licence. Only problem is my licence is under my married name and all my immigration paperwork is under my maiden name. I don’t know why this is, when I had the LFB query that Lawyer Prick about it, he said it’s just how it’s done. Even tho we are married all the paperwork from the US is done as a fiancée visa...which to me is fucking stupid as it just creates hassles.
They couldn’t accept it as my photo id.
This is where I became a right fucking plonker. My eyes welled up with big fat tears and I felt the sobs start catching in my throat. No amount of trying to blink them back while muttering to myself “oh god, don’t start fucking bawling”, it just made me worse. I ended up going outside to try and compose myself. Yep, due for my period tomorrow. So it was no mean feat.
I have to go back in today to try and get it completed. My window is getting smaller and smaller, everything has to be done before my interview in Sydney and it says to allow three weeks for the crim check to come back. Will take my passport which thankfully is the only “acceptable” photo id I have with my maiden name still on it. Alas the same cops who now have some inkling about what to do won’t be on.
The only highlight of the trip, was one of the assisting cops [I had three of them trying to work out what had to be done] was highly rootable, even if he did make me cry. I was ever thankful he wasn’t one of them “Heroes” or else he’d have heard me lustily think “phwoar, I’d like to break me off a piece of THAT, ouff”.
Wish me luck.Labels: Bastid Lawyer/Immigration
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
10:19 am ::
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