30 September 2004 20:37
After picking up a "visitor pass," I walked up a flight of stories to the "first floor." I figured this out later (the sign "first floor" was a clue). Meanwhile, I blissfully thought I was on the second floor, to which I had been told to go. After all, I had entered on the ground level and proceded up a flight of stairs. What could be more logical than for me to now be on the second floor? Right? Wrong. The hallway came to a T. Noting a sign on the left wall that had an arrow under "Work Permits" pointing to the T, I deduced that work permits would be a left and not a right. A sign on the wall facing me pointing left, would of course, have been too obvious--thus insulting the intelligence of every person who walked through that hallway.Turning left down another abandoned hallway, I came to a door that had scrawled in chalk, "IN - Pull". I dutifully pulled. Noting that a left turn would bring me to a dead end, I turned right. I passed numerous janitor's closets, restrooms, elevators, stairs, and electrical rooms. But no rooms for use as an office. The architect for this building needed (among other things), and education on architecture, aka efficient design. Finally, down at the very end, there was a series of rooms on the right. I walked into the reception area and, according to the helpful instruction of the sign on the wall, marched over to the guard behind "window 1".
He was very prompt in telling me that work permits were to be gained on the second floor, jabbing a finger upwards to help illustrate. This was actually necessary, because it helped shatter my illusion of reality, and prevented me from protesting that I already was on the second floor. I did an about-face and headed back for the stairs. I should have used the elevator, because I got behind a lady who was intent on walking in a very very liesurely manner.
What is the proper social etiquiete here? I couldn't pass her without being uncomfortably rude. But at the same time, walking up a flight of stairs and down twenty yards of hallway behind a slow person is excruciating. Both for me, because I want to be wherever I'm going yesterday, and for her, because how comfortable can it be to have a person stalking along behind you at a precise twelve feet in distance, trying to walk as quietly as possible to not be intrusive. I don't know how uncomfortable that is, because I never seem to walk slower than the people behind me. Ah, but if I'm walkign with company that is slow, and people are slowed behind us, I do find that very unnerving. But I can't walk with most people anyway, I'm either too fast or too slow. Usually the former, I walk in fits and starts. "Strolling" isn't one of my strong suits.
At the top of the stairs my intelligence was promptly insulted by a "Work Permits" sign, arrow pointing right. Why, this completely prevented me from preambulating down the hallway to the left to see if maybe that was the correct direction. Which, by habits I may very well have done, just to avoid having to walk behind Miss Slow. Next to the "Work Permits" sign was a "Second Floor" sign, which I think I took very well, albeit somewhat resignedly. (no pun intended). The hallway dead ending on me again forced me to follow Miss Slow into a waiting area. She went through a locked door, the first digit of which was 4, before habit made me turn my eyes as she keyed the code in. I forked left and made for "Window 1". This was my third time through my request, and I was getting better at it. But what did I get for my improvement? Redirected to "Window 2". Sigh.
At window two I made some progress after some initial setbacks. For starters, round four with my spiel was the most polished yet--however. Content-wise it was polished, delivery-wise it was very poor. I never deliever spiels well in the first place. Delievering them to females is all that much worse. I stammer, stutter, slur, lisp, and suffer dyslexia to no end. That's to females. To males I simply stammer, stutter, slur, lisp, and suffer dyslexia to a very distant end. But she procurred for me an application, with an added bonus. She actually told me where to turn it in and what order to do it in.
First I fill it out (duh, but you never know). Then I go to a bank and pay the processing fee (ha). Then I take the reciept and the application back to the Ministry of Labor and Social Security (this'll be visit #2). Then I go home. Weeks and weeks and months or years later, they notify us that I'm approved (whoohee). Then I'll go to a bank and pay the permit fee (ha). Then I'll take the reciept to the Ministry of Labor and Social Security (this'll be visit #3, provided I haven't had to revisit them to find out what's taking so long), and they'll give me the form telling me it's legal to work here, which I've been doing for two weeks now (oops).
But walking out--right, left, down stairs, right, left (the chalk said "OUT -- This way Out" this time), right (oh, there's the sign that says "First Floor". Thanks, I'll just go down one more flight of stairs to the "basement" and walk out into the parking lot.
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