It’s hard to describe how windy it is in Boston today — the remnants of hurricane Wilma have blown into town, bringing with them gales that laugh at umbrellas and threaten to gust the little-framed off their feet entirely. I should know: I was out in the bluster and the brittle rain at 6:30am this morning, continually turning and turning about in the squall so that I could keep myself facing in a kind direction (one in which I was not actually having to breathe against the wind). Why did I put myself through this jollity, you ask?

Why, so that I could spend four and a half fun-filled hours in the Boston District Office of the “Goverment Agency In Charge of Aliens Like Me,” of course. See, as of yesterday more than 90 days had passed since I’d applied for my “Permission to Stay Out of Destitution” card, and I still hadn’t heard a peep out of the Powers That Be Weirdly Uncommunicative. This unfortunate circumstance entitled me — lucky me! — to apply for a “Temporary Permission to Stay Out of Destitution While We’re Working On It” card. So I thought I’d go down there early this morning to see if someone would be able to help me.

To make a long story (really. You don’t even want to hear about the evil photocopy machine and the horrifyingly boring 70 minutes that I spent in the waiting room, afraid to read in case I got too absorbed in my book and missed my number) only a very little bit shorter, the upshot of it all is this: An astoundingly merciful Jamaican immigration officer — whose initials, coincidentally enough, were “J.C.” — took one look at my receipt number and told me that

– my application had already been approved, as of September 19th (ARE YOU KIDDING ME) but

– the card hadn’t been processed yet because “you haven’t had your biometrics done.”

“Having your biometrics done,” painful as it sounds, actually involves nothing more complicated than a 10-digit fingerprinting and fancyfototaking, and I knew at once why I bloody well hadn’t had it done yet.

Because right in the middle of the helpful receipt notice I got from the Powers That BWU, the following exhortation appears, formatted exactly as I have copied it below:

“PLEASE NOTE -

USCIS WILL SCHEDULE YOUR BIOMETRICS APPOINTMENT. You will be receiving an appointment notice with a specific time, date and place where you will have your fingerprints and/or photos taken.”

Seems pretty clear, no? Clear as capital letters, as a matter of fact. “USCIS WILL SCHEDULE YOUR BIOMETRICS APPOINTMENT. You will be receiving an appointment notice with a specific time, date and place where you will have your fingerprints and/or photos taken.” I pointed this out to the immigration officer, and can you guess what she said? Can you guess, people? She said — wincing, to her credit — “Yeah… I don’t think they’re sending those letters.”

Yeah, I don’t think they’re sending those letters.

Thanks a lot, UNIVERSE.

So (I ask the apologetic Officer J.C.), if I had totally _ignored_ what The Powers TBWU had said, instead of actually _believing_ what they had said, I could have come in 5 weeks ago and asked for an appointment to have my fingerprints taken by a chatty Chinese lady who squished and slid and scanned my poor little pinky on the glass until it waah waah waahed all the way home, and my “Permission to Stay Out of Destitution” card would have been in the mail last month? And not only that, but my authorization approval has just been sitting there in the database since September 19th and nothing in the system beeped and said, Hey! Send this chickie a notice?

“Pretty much,” she says, efficently looking things up on the computer. “I don’t know why they do this, because it’s really unfair to the applicants.”

No, see, I get it.

They are testing to see how much you really want to stay out of destitution. Makes sense. After all, they don’t want people who’d be happy to be out of a job, idly wasting welfare monies! They want permanent residents of initiative, who’ll really fight for their right to work!

Fortunately, J.C. was not only sympathetic, but in the mood to get things done. She was especially concerned because, she said, without the biometrics information, The Powers weren’t going to schedule an “Are You Really In Love? Prove It!” interview for me and Ross. So she made some calls, printed me out an appointment notice, and sent me (in the spitting rain and driving wind) around the corner to get printed and pictured. She also nearly won my undying affection by telling me that when I came back she would go ahead and make me a “Temporary Permission to Stay Out of Destitution While We’re Working On It” card, since I’d already waited so long. I was about to kiss her feet, but then she checked the regulations again and frowned. She wasn’t allowed to make me a temporary card, because the approval for my permanent card was already in the system. (Which makes it kind of weird, don’t you think, that every time I called or went online to look up my case status, the system told me it was still being processed? I pointed this out, as well, and this time J.C. seemed frankly baffled.)

At any rate, now that The Powers TBWU know what every inch of the skin surrounding my upper phalanges looks like, I should be receiving my “Permission to Stay Out of Destitution” card in the mail within the next two weeks. J.C. even typed an email as I stood there (but to whom?) requesting that my card be sent to the production office A.S.A.P. This, although frustrating, at least gave me the relief of a definite timeframe, barring yet unforeseen colossal screwups.

Poor J.C. She seemed to feel genuinely bad about the whole thing. It seemed to me that half her job is spent dealing with the messes of applicants, and the other half dealing with the messes of the system. She did insist on checking in the computer to see if a date had been set for our “Are You Really In Love? Prove It!” interview, and apparently one had already been chosen this week… even though they’re not supposed to do that until you’ve had your biometrics done. Go figure! J.C. wrote down the date and time for me, and encouraged me to look on the bright side. If Ross and I had come in for our interview without me having first having been portraited and prodded, The Powers would surely have sent us packing rather than admit to a mistake on their part!

P.S. Called work, filled them in. They said not to worry, I’m worth waiting for. True enough. But ladies and gentlemen, now you know. An appointment notice from The Powers is not.