I mentioned in a previous post that I had trouble entering the country because the guy at immigration didn't believe that I was neither paying student nor paid teacher. Just like at home, it's all about the Benjamins . . . or . . . Yeatses. He let me through telling me to go to the location on this green card (not "green card") within a month and pay €150 for . . . something. He wasn't specific.
I go in for attempt #1 about two weeks ago, hoping I can quickly find out what the heck I need. As I walk in to the immensely crowded room, I realize that it would take 45 minutes to get a question answered, so I come back another time.
Attempt #2 came this Monday. I had the day free, so I went down to the GNIB full of optimism and important documents. The office, which closes at 8pm, stopped giving out tickets just before 1pm when I am a tantalizingly close second in line to receive this golden ticket, therefore nullifying a 45 minute commute and 45 minute queue. I ask the lovely man a quick question: does he have any idea what it is that this man at the airport was talking about. The answer is no, but if I come back again he can finish my registration. Hooray! Damn.
Attempt #3 was Wednesday afternoon. School closes early for rugby and I had nothing to do for the final period, so John let me leave early so I could get in line quickly and get ticket. that is, of course, unless they run out of tickets again while I'm standing in line. Screw this. I'm going to the Yeats exhibit at the National Library on Kildare Street.
Attempt #4 was Thursday morning. I woke up and went straight to the GNIB first thing in the morning. At 8:30am, a half hour after opening, I get ticket 188. Luckily I can leave the building with the system they have there, but ticket 188 probably isn't going to be served until after noon. Let's go wander. When I come back I finish a chapter, and act, and a scene in the three texts I brought with me. I also avoided the glances of a well-groomed young Chinese man who kept smiling at me. Most of you know that I love the gay community, just not in that way. At 1:30pm, 5 hours after getting my arrival, I leave the GNIB with a new (thankfully free) stamp on my passport. I am now legally able to teach until November 28, more than a month after I will leave Blackrock College.
After research I find that the man at the airport who was either hard of hearing or hard of understanding wanted me to get a GNIB card because I'd be a student staying in the country for more than 90 days. I will be in and out in 70 days and gave him the documentation to prove it. I am a student at Duquesne University in America and also showed him the documentation to prove that.
An H-Dip back at Blackrock has been reading about immigration. Some articles from the Wall Street Journal apparently has some interesting views on the process - get rid of it. He says that the people who work at immigrations actually do nothing. They don't provide a product. They don't provide a service. They just take salaries from the government; physical resources in forms of booths, buildings, paperwork, and uniforms; and time from the people queuing for hours on end.
Today's story is brought to you by the number 4 and the letter Q.
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