Battleing the Red Tape Monster

Man, do immigrants have it tough or what?

Last week I was cycled through various public buildings in order to secure a visa to work and live abroad in the upcoming year. The granite structures ranged from the central police precinct to something called the Justice Building

I assume the Justice Building is the place where justice originates from. I imagine wearing a black cape.

I had to show various forms of identification, had to sign onto a list with my reason for coming and I had to wait in small little rooms lit by the flickering of a tired neon light who just wanted to get some rest. The light seemed cranky, and I was cranky and the guy who was helping me out? Well, guess what? He was cranky too.

We all just needed more sleep I suppose.

Little processing fees seemed to pop up at every corner like molehills in a freshly mowed lawn and I could feel my energy drain with the dollars in my bank account. My hand was stamped as I was ushered through turn styles much like the entrance of a night club, but unlike a night club, when I finally got through the craggy bouncer, the throng of others waiting and the various ID checks, there was no pulsing music, no excited ambiance and certainly no stiff drinks.

The last difference was especially appalling because I have found that once the red tape of any government establishment is navigated, you could use a stiff drink.

OK, I am exaggerating... Horribly.

The whole thing probably lasted less than thirty minutes, but at the end of the day it was pretty bureaucratic and if I had not done extensive research before I went as to what I should bring, the whole thing could have been truly painful—and this is coming from a guy who has been a citizen his whole life and has no criminal record.

I don’t have a better solution as to how the system should work. Part of the reason for having extensive hoops to jump through is to catch the people who should be caught. The unsavory characters in this world. The whole issue of red tape is probably just a necessary evil.

Still makes me think, if it can be such a pain for a citizen, what must it be like for someone here from another country. Someone who was fleeing a life of poverty to set up something better? They don’t have the little plastic cards that validate their presence, they don’t have the language skills to successfully navigate the bowels of public buildings and they have nothing in the way of practical experience to apply to the process.

Man, do immigrants have it tough or what?

The love you give comes back in the end.