Paper Trail

Somewhat later than anticipated, we finally handed in the paperwork today for Sarah’s application for a residence permit.

We took tram 2 down to the Johan Huizingalaan and first had to combat the ongelooflijke lul on the front desk to obtain a number for the waiting room. I wanted to see someone to ensure that we had completed the application to a satisfactory degree, but this dick told me to simply deposit it in the letter-box downstairs. I told him that I had a question regarding contradictory information, to which he replied that I should not hand in contradictory documentation. That’s the kind of smart-arse answer you get from people in these positions of petty power over here.

The strategy here is to force the unwilling, unhelpful uncivil servant down the path of least resistance under penalty of lots of hassle. Since he essentially hates his job and doesn’t like to help people, he’s also lazy and will do anything to get rid of the people he’s supposed to be helping. This usually means fobbing them off with bad information, but if you simply refuse to go away, his strategy fails. Instead, you tell him what you want from him and make it clear you’re not going anywhere until your wish has been satisfied. Egregiously lazy, the civil servant will then make the neural connections required to realise that the easiest way to get you out of his face is simply to give you what you want and send you on your way. Consequently, we were given a number and allowed inside.

Why does everything bureaucratic have to feel like running a marathon over hot coals?

My advice to anyone reading this: don’t ever move abroad, apply for a passport in a foreign country, have a child in a foreign country, get married in a foreign country, marry a foreigner, or bring a foreign spouse to your country. Unless, of course, you want all the hassle that goes with these things. Few of us ever makes these choices consciously, of course.

Anyway, we finally got to see someone and then handed in Sarah’s application, minus the proof of registration of our marriage (since they won’t register the marriage without permission from the immigration service, which is pending) and minus the proof of my income. Since I’m not working, I have no income. It’s that simple. On the other hand, we have ample funds to live, so I’m hoping this will be taken into account. Hopefully, someone somewhere is more concerned with the intent of the requirement to demonstrate regular income, and less hell-bent on enforcing the letter of the forms. After all, who really cares whether there are regular deposits to your account, just so long as there is plenty of money in it and you won’t be a burden on the state?

Well, we’ll see where the ship strands, as we say here.