Monday was my long awaited and stress inducing interview to change my FM3 to an FM2. The final step before actually being handed the booklet that allows me to live here (almost) hassle free for another year.
Part of that process is getting fingerprinted all over again. Thus the green thumbs!
My interview was conducted by Manuel. (not his real name) He was the first agent I dealt with over 5 years ago. Usually a nice, friendly, helpful guy. Not so yesterday. I don't know if he had a wild hair crosswise or what but he was just plain mean. The interview went like this.
I take a chair in front of his desk in a tiny little office space shared by another guy. The office is so small that the chair sits sideways to his desk. He shuffles through my papers, types some stuff into the computer, which I can't see. Then he turns his attention to me and says
blah, blah, blah, blah pierna derecho blah blah blah blah derecho?
To which I responded
Perdon? (excuse me?)
He then raises himself up stiffly in his chair and haughtily says to me, in English
You have lived here long enough now. I am NOT going to baby you and speak English. You either understand Spanish or not.
Ok then. I never asked him to speak English to me and the only reason I could not understand him was because he asked me that question as fast as he possibly could. On purpose, I think, so he could give me his little speech. I wanted to say
Listen you little presumptuous, officious twerp, I could certainly understand you if you had the decency to speak clearly, distinctly and courteously to a foreign guest in your country. And it is none of your business or concern how difficult or easy my life is based on my ability to speak Spanish.
Instead I said. in Spanish
I'm sorry. I didn't hear you clearly and didn't understand the question. Could you please repeat it?
Whereupon, in Spanish, he replied
do. you. still. have. tattoos. on. your. right. leg. and. right. chest?
I said yes. (like I would have had them burned off since last year or something?)
Then he typed some stuff into the computer again, printed out a page with all of my basic information, tossed it over to me and said to review it and sign it at the bottom. That completed, out came the ink pad.
He fairly yelled at me to push my thumbs into it and press them into the correct spaces on the form. Then he sat there to see if I would do it right. Since one of the places was actually in my new FM2 book, I read where to put left and right very carefully. Of course, he was telling me to hurry up at the same time.
All in all, I was glad to get out of there and was just boiling mad. At least it is all over for another year. My lawyer will collect the actual FM2 book for me once the pictures I gave them have been attached.
Why does Immigration always have to be so stressful?