The Romanian breezed through her visa interview this morning at the US embassy. I thought she was going to have a really hard time there – especially cause she doesn’t work and she is from Romania, so a lot of folks immediately assume “Eastern European…pole dancer.....” Or maybe as Purgy says, “communist.” She said that the interviewer (a "cute American boy") just looked at her application, asked her how long she has lived in "all this terrible dust" and stamped her as approved.
I have worked on a mountainous file of documentation for her for the past month …. And dude didn’t even glance at it!
Sometimes breastssss and a nice smile are a good thing. (I know, I know – that is extremely sexist. Do I care? I have found that boobies have never been a hindrance really.)
She said that while she was waiting for her turn, she noted that a lot of Kuwaitis were being rejected. Interesting and I don't know why it is. Maybe because many ‘mericans just don’t know the difference between Western names and Arab names: For example, if one dude in Guantanamo’s last name is “Al-Flan” and then another Al-Flan dude goes to the embassy to apply for a visa, he might be rejected. Not many Westerners understand that tribe names are frickin huge. I dunno – that is just an assumption on my part. I don’t know why they would be rejected. Maybe they didn't have help filling out their online applications. That seems to be important.
I couldn't go into the interview with her - I had to sit outside in the Little Waiting Hut with a DHL desk in the back. It is air conditioned and has a camera and speaker to announce (in a reeeeally thick accent) the names/numbers of people so that they can then proceed to the Little Window.
The Little Window People (Filipino guards) check their IDs, and motion applicants through the metal detectors and through the gate to the embassy courtyard; where a Nepali guard motions the way into the Consular section. At that door, there is yet another metal detector and another Filipino guard who directs people either to the American Citizen services side or to the "Visa" side.
Not many Americans work at the US Embassy. That has always irked me. I interviewed for a position there once and it paid way below market value. As if. Back to our story...
After they stamp her paperwork and give her a red sticker, she had to go back to the Waiting Hut where she had to stand in line so that DHL can take her information and have her passport delivered to her at home - or the place of her choice for a fee of 5 kd. I wonder how DHL landed that particular contract as a sole source delivery service. Before, people could pick their passports up at the embassy, but I guess now they don't want the traffic. What is really ironic is that 99.9% of people living in Kuwait don't know their home address - even the Kuwaitis. Everyone has a post office box (which DHL won't accept). So, for that reason, they keep a phone at the end of the room (you have to leave your mobile phone and anything electronic in your car) and people were frantically calling and asking in Arabic, "What's our address?" The DHL people have resorted to checking civil ID cards for people’s addresses, but a lot of times, that information isn’t current (like mine). The Romanian doesn't know hers either, so they’ll deliver it to my office.
DHL does actually employ Americans and there was a very nice DHL lady who helped us. I asked her if their drivers really do find people’s houses and she said that they do – which, by the way is UNLIKE ARAMEX (which I will elaborate more about later). I told Very Nice DHL Lady that if I had her job filling out forms for morons all day, I would shoot myself. She just laughed. She obviously has a good attitude. I wasn’t meant to be in the service industry apparently. Bang bang!
So, now it is on. We are going to have so much fun. Cruisin in the Mercedes, dinner with my family, French martinis, “real” lobster, tequila by the CASE, SHOPPING SHOPPING SHOPPING, TARGET!!!!, the beach, the pool, the malls…. BOYZ….
Slapperella is supposed to come with us, but she is tardy in her plans. Bad, bad Slapperella. Do you not know the potential for shoe shopping, drinking, carrying on and merriment? Damn, girl!