We are there. We are in the building. This is it.
It's a big building with lots of windows. It's very tall and the second floor is open to the rest of it. There weren't many people around. We walked through security and were told by a very nice security guy that interviews are upstairs. We walked by a big open room where several people were waiting in lines of chairs. Everything was really neat and clean. We went up the stairs and were immediately greeted by an extremely chipper lady. I mean, really GREETED! The building was so quiet, we didn't expect a big "Hi, how are you?!" She took our name and in return gave us one of those light up vibrating pagers (the first photo) like you find in restaurants. We laughed about it. Why wouldn't they use them?
As I mentioned before, the room overlooked the main entrance area. The room had offices on two sides with textured glass walls. There were several lines of surprisingly comfortable and clean chairs to wait on. Royal picked a spot facing one of the offices and away from the other waiting people. We wanted to talk. Talk about this all important last step in the process, how it was almost over!
The waiting groups consisted of three people: two people (usually man and a woman) and one very obvious attorney. We noticed it right away, as our attorney was unable to join us. You could hear people going over their paperwork, ironing out responses, asking questions. There were several hispanic groups and at least one oriental couple. It was neat, I felt a sort of bond with everyone. We were all ready for the same life changing appointment.
Our pager went off and we were happy because it wasn't even our previously set time yet, which meant we were going in early. A younger lady met us at the desk and we followed her through a door into a hall. And followed her. And followed her. The place was waaaay bigger than I had originally thought. The hall was never ending! Offices on one side of the hallway, all set up the same, all the doors open even though people were inside speaking. Finally she showed us into her office. It had colorful carpet and bright orange walls. Don't know what that's all about.
The office had a window on the far wall, then her desk, then lots of space and then three chairs (freakin' absent attorney). She had us sit. She wasn't pleasant, but she wasn't rude. She was quiet and never said anything extra. She had this huge stack of papers that she started looking through, occasionally she would mark something with a red pen. We sat there. She asked Royal's name. His birthday. His parents names. More marking with the red pen.
Then she got on the phone and started speaking to someone about the doctor Royal went to for his mandatory medical exam. She asked the person on the phone when they stopped accepting exams from said doc. She asked the person to send her that email.
I remember thinking, oh hell no. No you don't. See, they give you a list of doctors that they will accept sealed medical exams from. Royal had to travel an hour to see this guy, and it was ages ago!
Surely, they weren't going to reject us because they didn't have an adequate medical exam...
Part III.
All I can say is British Immigration is giving me the biggest headache and down right heart break ever..
Posted by: RaeAnne | June 25, 2009 at 06:22 AM
Hey RaeAnne, I'm so sorry to hear that! It's just a long frustrating process, isn't it?
Posted by: Kath | June 26, 2009 at 11:56 AM