Chaos in the Ranks

There were about ten sets of people in front of us waiting their turn to see the receptionist. There are rumours that people have brought the wrong documents and are being sent to the library to get internet access to edit and reprint their forms and get them photocopied. These copies are something which we don’t have. Spying a photocopier by the wall at the end of the line, I find a coin, copy our forms, and return to our place in the queue. We’ve been travelling all day to get to this appointment; there’s no way that we can afford to re-schedule another one. I later think whether these people are just starting a rouse to try and get other people out of the queue, or at least create a context that there’s only a limited number of visas available. We reach the front of the queue and show our appointment to the receptionist. She looks at our paperwork and gives us a number and invites us to sit in the lounge, where we chat to a young man who’s applying to teach English overseas. Then we’re called. There are very few questions asked, and after exchanging our passports for a receipt we’re free to leave.