Visas.... again
I’m sitting in the UK Home Office Border Agency Public Enquiries Office (that’s a mouthful) waiting for what I think will be stage 5 of the visa application process, not counting the 4 or so people who stopped me for information before I even made it to stage 1. The scary thing about this last stage is that my number is no longer up on the board, possibly explained by the subtitles on the video message on the wall that says “biometric results can take up to 3 (!!!) hours to return”. (These results include my fingerprints, taken for the first time ever.) So it looks like I’ll be making myself comfortable. The young, very serious lady on the video now is saying (according to the transcript underneath) that I could have some crayons and paper if I wanted, but I think I’ll just stick with writing this and eating my cheese and cucumber sandwich (seriously the best option that was available in the wee cafeteria).
It is hard to believe that I have been here for 5 years nearly. The immigration officers at Manchester Airport have been asking me for some time now what I was going to do after October. At least this last time I had an answer for them (I have an appointment for renewal). I think that it should be straightforward; I certainly seem to meet all of the necessary criteria. But who knows, the UK like so many other places are getting paranoid about immigration, the conservative government has made some outlandish promises to slash numbers from outside the EU and things are just generally getting tougher. A worry for me, because my employment with Rio Tinto is based on me having the continued right to live and work in the UK. (A pleasant looking gentleman is now telling us that he hopes we will have a positive view of the PEO and welcomes the filling out of a customer service form. I think I’ll do that and mention that forewarning of a potential 3 hour wait would be welcome.).
The benefit of going through all of this is that not only will I have no problems entering the UK (my alternative option would be to come in and out on a tourist visa, on which I’m allowed 90 days in any 6 month period), but I won’t actually need a French working visa. Shades of Italy... being an intra-company transfer from an EU country where I have the right to live and work to the French office of that company is all hunky dory. I think I will still need some sort of residency permit in France, but that should just be a matter of registering with the police or something. (The Deputy Director is now telling us how important it is to her that the PEO offers an efficient and customer friendly service... well certainly everyone has been very polite. Frankly though I’m seeing some potential efficiency improvements here and there...)
Naturally a very multicultural audience here, although surprisingly a few Brits as well... I can’t work that out, maybe baby’s first passport? Lots of Russian/eastern Europe accents, a few Asians, the odd American, a few Africans. Everyone looking bit stressed of course and all are being very carefully well behaved. One of the Australian guys I worked with at Canga is now doing his last stint because his girlfriend was deported immediately after her renewal was refused. She was employed as something professional in a hospital, but that wasn’t enough to let her stay. I should be ok though; the grandmother link still seems to be good. (If I want, apparently there is a prayer room and a mother and child room on the first floor according to a rather motherly looking lady, but how could I leave this room and risk missing my number being called? I might start to regret that diet coke soon.)
Hey, my number’s at least on the board now under “Biometric Case Consideration”. Only about 10 people ahead of me, so hopefully I’ll get out of here before closing time... fingers crossed!
Postscript 1: my number mysteriously moved backwards in the queue and now, some 4 hours after I first arrived, the screen’s gone blank and there seem to still be a lot of people around. Somebody came round with a wonderfully old fashioned clipboard taking numbers.
Plus I’ve been told that I can’t plug into a socket in a government building (security? stealing electricity? ) although I did manage to sneak enough juice for another hour or so on the computer. (The slightly chubby young gentleman on the video is gently explaining that if my application fails I will not, alas, be able to reclaim my £850).
Postscript 2: It's ok, they've got speakers in the toilets so I can still hear my number being called out.
Postscript 3: They called me just as I finally gave in and decided to fill out a customer survey form. And I got it! No problems. In fact, I was a bit peeved that they didn’t want more information – not even various marriage certificates obtained at some expense. Still, can’t complain, Rio paid for everything else :)
