I'm a bit reluctant to tell you just how easily I'm frustrated by life here at times. Over all, I enjoy living here. People are incredibly welcoming, the food is amazing, and studying langauge never fails to be interesting! However, once in a while a situation comes along that sends me into a pissy mood. Yesterday I encountered one such situation....picking up my visa. Having submitted all the needed paperwork last week, I went to office to collect my passport and new one year visa. A simple task you say? Let me give you the blow-by-blow.
1. Woke up early, walked 15 minutes to the bus stop, rode 40 minutes, then get off and walked another 10.
2. Arrived at the office, found my line (the 'Collect passport' line) at which point some moron appeared out of nowhere and with Ninja quick skill, cut in front of me. I LOOOOOOATHE cutters. It was here my pissyness began.
3. After giving a stink eye to the man in front of me, my turn came. Handing my receipt to the lady, I gave a courteous hello. Grabbing my receipt, she found my passport, then had me sign my name in this enourmous Passport Book of Life. Then without looking, she pointed to the next line over...the "Charge" line.
4. I got in line and continued my laserbeam stink-eye into the back of that cutter's head...that big dumb head...taunting me as if to say, "sucks to be after me, you dumb whitey."
5. My turn came. Money out and ready, I handed my receipt to the clerk. She grabbd it rather abrasively, typed something on her screen and then printed me another receipt. Before handing it to me, she applied the ubiqutous red stamp. (no business is conducted
without red stamps). I offered my money, but she waved it away. "Where do I go now?", I asked? The man standing nearby pointed to a sign. Thankfully, it was all in Chinese, enabling me to once again to put on my "I'm an idiot foreigner. could you please translate?" face. "Down the street to the bank", he said.
6. I took my receipt down the street and got in yet another line. At my turn I handed my red-stamped receipt and money through the slot. After processing my payment, she printed another receipt, applied yet another red stamp and passed the
receipt back to me.
7. Returning to the visa office, I returned to the 'Charge' line (the Cutter omni-present...silently scoffing at me) where I handed my red-stamped bank recipt to the man standing there who then gave me yet another receipt (red stamp graciously pre-applied).
8. I took my red-stamped receipt back to the 'collect passport' line and handed it to the nice lady who inspected it as uninterestedly as possible. In the final, dramatic scene, she picked up my passport and without looking tossed it across the counter at me. I had no other choice but to laugh.
Though passport/visa in-hand, I left feeling somewhat defeated. I tried to console myself with KFC....to no avail. The coffee was Nescafe and the egg tarts were soaked in grease. Still seeking consolation, I had heard of a fast food place that allegedly serves beef hamburgers. Passing by, I went in, silently hoping that a beef hamburger would be a soothing balm to my culturally troubled soul. Alas. It was less than average.
Now I was indeed frustrated. Yet a bit of time and distance from that situation helps give a little perspective. I entered into that visa office as a foreigner. Sure. Business was not conducted in a manner I found eficient or familiar. Sure I wanted to complain, but what good will it do? I'm in a country with thousands of years of history, culture, and ways of doing things. Am I arrogant enough to think they should do things MY way? I hope not. Anyone who knows me knows I couldn't set that office up any better. So I'm left with the reality that I am a guest here and should do my best to conduct business in the ways asked of me. And in that, I had better develop thicker skin. I had also work on my ninja skills to intercept dumb ninja cutters.