Passports: A Rant
Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:10 pm
"First, let us kill all the lawyers." --William Shakespeare
OK, the situation is pretty simple. I have no passport. Mrs. Bug has a passport, but it's expiring soon and we both wish to hit Mexico sometime next winter. Since we don't plan on taking a ship or driving to our destination, we have to fly, and that means having a passport.
Mrs. Bug's passport expiration date is inconveniently during her set of chemotherapy. Meaning, get it done before chemo (and the loss of hair) or wait another eight months after the start, which is too long.
So, we figured we'd get it done now, pre-hair-loss.
We went to the State Department website, got the appropriate forms, filled and printed those out ahead of time. We went to a local photographer who advertised in the phone book as doing passport photos. Two sets of photos, neat as you please.
We got our ID papers: birth certificates, SSN cards, driver's licenses, the works, and had everything all nice and packed together as we hit City Hall.
You'd think we were set! Ha!
First up: in total opposition to the State Department's assurances, the local government would not take plastic. So we withdrew cash from a local machine, got in line again, and were told they wouldn't accept THAT either. Reasoning: they had to send the application through the mail, and it's long-standing Post Office tradition that sending cash through the mail is a Bad Idea(tm).
I'm fine enough with that. It's logical. There are corrupt postal employees. But why, for crying out loud, can't the local government take the cash and issue their own check?
Heh, didn't get an answer for that. So we drove home, got the checkbook. Wait in line. Present documentation again, with checkbook in hand.
Snotty Bureaucrat: "ZOMG! THESE PHOTOS AREN'T RIGHT!!1ONEONE"
Us: "Er, we got 'em done at a passport photo place in town. Here's the receipt."
SB: "THE BACKGROUND IS GREY!"
Us: "So?"
SB: "IT HAS TO BE WHITE OR OFF-WHITE!"
Us, looking at the photos again, thinking: "Huh, looks pretty off-white to me."
Now really, why this SB had to be so, er, snotty, I have no idea. You have someone else take these photos because the photog is supposed to know the rules. We are not photographers. If we were, we'd have done it ourselves, instead of paying twenty-five bucks for a guy with a nice camera, a proper shooting room, digital printing, and Government-Approved Passport Photo-Cutting machines on hand. No kidding, I looked at the machine, it even had a stamped seal on it.
So at this point, Mrs. Bug is hopping mad. We figured, what the hey, we'll send in my photos since mine were deemed 'barely acceptable' by the SB, and have the photog re-do Mrs. Bug's as those would 'obviously be rejected'.
Oy, the mouth on this lady.
I suggested to her that perhaps she should contact this place of photography business and inform them of the proper settings. Oh no, can't be done, 'we're a government agency!' Verbatim quote. Well, since she can't do anything, howsabout she provide me with the rules, preferably in hard copy? I was expecting a no there, but I should have known better. Of course she had papers to push! So now I have a neat copy of said rules.
...I used to wonder what drove people to go postal and shoot up federal places of employment. Now I know why. I'm a bit steamed myself, but nowhere near as peeved as Mrs. Bug. See, I'm still gonna have hair if my photos get rejected by the State Department, so I can re-take at any time. Not so for Mrs. Bug.
We were even nice to this bureaucrat, too. Both of us worked with the public, and we know it's best to be nice to clerks. We also expect 'em to reciprocate, which did not happen here. It was as if we had somehow Descended From On High to Personally Ruin Her Day.
Gads. Now I'm holed up in the lair and Mrs. Bug is upstairs blowing off steam. I have been instructed to stay down here for a while, and I know better than to go upstairs for a couple-three hours. She calms down better if she's alone.
Perhaps things might have gone better if we'd simply blew up in that broad's face. I know I was brimming with smart-ass comments, and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Bug was too. Ah well.
OK, the situation is pretty simple. I have no passport. Mrs. Bug has a passport, but it's expiring soon and we both wish to hit Mexico sometime next winter. Since we don't plan on taking a ship or driving to our destination, we have to fly, and that means having a passport.
Mrs. Bug's passport expiration date is inconveniently during her set of chemotherapy. Meaning, get it done before chemo (and the loss of hair) or wait another eight months after the start, which is too long.
So, we figured we'd get it done now, pre-hair-loss.
We went to the State Department website, got the appropriate forms, filled and printed those out ahead of time. We went to a local photographer who advertised in the phone book as doing passport photos. Two sets of photos, neat as you please.
We got our ID papers: birth certificates, SSN cards, driver's licenses, the works, and had everything all nice and packed together as we hit City Hall.
You'd think we were set! Ha!
First up: in total opposition to the State Department's assurances, the local government would not take plastic. So we withdrew cash from a local machine, got in line again, and were told they wouldn't accept THAT either. Reasoning: they had to send the application through the mail, and it's long-standing Post Office tradition that sending cash through the mail is a Bad Idea(tm).
I'm fine enough with that. It's logical. There are corrupt postal employees. But why, for crying out loud, can't the local government take the cash and issue their own check?
Heh, didn't get an answer for that. So we drove home, got the checkbook. Wait in line. Present documentation again, with checkbook in hand.
Snotty Bureaucrat: "ZOMG! THESE PHOTOS AREN'T RIGHT!!1ONEONE"
Us: "Er, we got 'em done at a passport photo place in town. Here's the receipt."
SB: "THE BACKGROUND IS GREY!"
Us: "So?"
SB: "IT HAS TO BE WHITE OR OFF-WHITE!"
Us, looking at the photos again, thinking: "Huh, looks pretty off-white to me."
Now really, why this SB had to be so, er, snotty, I have no idea. You have someone else take these photos because the photog is supposed to know the rules. We are not photographers. If we were, we'd have done it ourselves, instead of paying twenty-five bucks for a guy with a nice camera, a proper shooting room, digital printing, and Government-Approved Passport Photo-Cutting machines on hand. No kidding, I looked at the machine, it even had a stamped seal on it.
So at this point, Mrs. Bug is hopping mad. We figured, what the hey, we'll send in my photos since mine were deemed 'barely acceptable' by the SB, and have the photog re-do Mrs. Bug's as those would 'obviously be rejected'.
Oy, the mouth on this lady.
I suggested to her that perhaps she should contact this place of photography business and inform them of the proper settings. Oh no, can't be done, 'we're a government agency!' Verbatim quote. Well, since she can't do anything, howsabout she provide me with the rules, preferably in hard copy? I was expecting a no there, but I should have known better. Of course she had papers to push! So now I have a neat copy of said rules.
...I used to wonder what drove people to go postal and shoot up federal places of employment. Now I know why. I'm a bit steamed myself, but nowhere near as peeved as Mrs. Bug. See, I'm still gonna have hair if my photos get rejected by the State Department, so I can re-take at any time. Not so for Mrs. Bug.
We were even nice to this bureaucrat, too. Both of us worked with the public, and we know it's best to be nice to clerks. We also expect 'em to reciprocate, which did not happen here. It was as if we had somehow Descended From On High to Personally Ruin Her Day.
Gads. Now I'm holed up in the lair and Mrs. Bug is upstairs blowing off steam. I have been instructed to stay down here for a while, and I know better than to go upstairs for a couple-three hours. She calms down better if she's alone.
Perhaps things might have gone better if we'd simply blew up in that broad's face. I know I was brimming with smart-ass comments, and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Bug was too. Ah well.