Americans have this impression of France as being interminably bureaucratic, what with their snotty "Pas possible, madam" response to what seems like the most logical of requests. But I am here to tell you that, though the French CAN be maddeningly obstinate when it comes to rules that they don't feel like breaking that day, we Americans are not far behind. And we can be downright mean about it too!
Today, for example, I bumped into one of my own American style "Pas possible" moments. I have been dragging around a US document in need of my notarized signature for weeks. Every time I seem to have a free moment to attempt to get the darn thing notarized something stands in my way (I have to work, I don't have my passport with me, blah blah blah). Notary services are only performed at the American Consulate offices here in Paris. The French, I have learned, gave up this racket of notarized signatures about 20 years ago - if you want a signature, put pen to paper and just do it - that's the streamlined method in this country now. But noooooooo, we Americans love this whole notarized signature exercise; that will be $20 dollars please, or $35 as it happens to be here on the American soil of the Consulate.
Well, so, I digress, The American Consulate is oh so conveniently open between 9 am and Noon - on weekdays only of course. This is just perfect for those of us who happen to have a job. Today I didn't have to be at my client until 10 am. Perfect, I thought. The Consulate is not too far from my client, if I get there at 9 am when it opens and all the stars align just right, I should get in and out of there with my notarized doc in hand in time to jump on the Metro and be at my clients by 10am.........or so I thought.
I marched up to the gate at just after 9 am this morning and saw my first (and last) good sign - a line of about 3 people. During the summer months, the queue can extend to the street, Disneyland style. Lucky me I thought, I showed my passport and was waiting to be allowed through the checkpoint until the guard gruffly demanded whether I had a "Leeeptip" with me.
A what???? He gestured towards my computer case. Ohhhhhhh, a LAPTOP (why didn't you say so). Yes, of course I had my laptop, I was on my way to work. C'est interdit he seemed to relish informing me. Not allowed, no way, no how. One cannot enter the Consulate with a laptop. Never mind that once through the gates, you are thoroughly searched and must give up those other agents of terrorism - your cell phone, and water bottle (those darn exploding water bottles again!!). Laptops aren't even permitted to be kept next to these other heinous weapons.
I couldn't believe it. I looked around wondering if I should just stash my laptop in a bush somewhere and make a run for the Notary counter before I was late for work. Naw, there probably was a whole industry in resold computers found in the bushes around the Consulate. The guard, taking pity on me probably because I continued to plead in bad French instead of shouting in loud English like most American visitors unfortunately resort to, told me to go around the corner and leave my laptop at a cafe. I was desperate, I went to the cafe, hoping that the ring of laptop thieves didn't have their headquarters there.
Forget it, the cafe owner told me that they have over 30 requests a day to watch over laptops. I reluctantly gave up and abandoned my notary mission for the day. But I thought that the cafe owner was missing a great business opportunity. Laptop babysitting services - charged by the minute.
So, my second example of bureaucratic roadblocks came from one shared by my client today after hearing of my travails.
This is the mean one.
My client was born in Morocco. Before she had her French citizenship, she attempted to apply for a visa to visit the USA. She called the phone number provided for visas. Upon answering her call, the helpful agent demanded a credit card number right after the "hello". Yes, as in, "Hello you have reached the US Visa services line, can I please have your credit card number." Without giving your credit card number to pay a 15 euro fee, no one will talk to you about what forms are necessary for a visa application. After her shock, my client dutifully gave her number. The agent began listing the necessary documents when all of a sudden, the connection was lost. Darn cell phones.....Well, my client of course called right back 10 seconds later and was told to give her credit card number again. Wait a minute, you were just talking to me and we were cut off, she explained. So sorry, but I cannot continue this conversation until you give me your credit card for an additional 15 euros - Them's the rules ma-mm. My client felt a punch into the sensitive flesh of her dignity. She swallowed and paid and received her forms.
But she never made the trip.
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