Thursday 23 October 2003

Interview with a bureaucrat

We had The Interview today.  You know, the interview we've been dreading and stressing over since we lodged the application (Tuxedo pretends he's not dreading or stressing but I can tell). 

I couldn't see any reason whatsoever how/why they could turn us back. They just couldn't.  We've been together too long, we're married which has to count for something even these days, we've got too much goddamned evidence.  And this is what was really pissing me off about The Interview; having to justify and explain a deep intimate personal relationship to a total stranger.  Oh yeah yeah, I know there have to be rules and processes and procedures and they're there for a damn good reason but ... it comes down to having had such a bad experience with the UK Immigration bods.  I just do not want to go through all of it again.

Looking on the bright side, The Interview would be the final step.  Did I ever hold onto that thought (through anxiety dreams and mild panic attacks and all the rest).  Which was damn stupid; I knew that at the time.  There would not be any problem.  It was just the principle of it all.  Justifying.  Explaining.  Opening one's soul and showing all the (figurative) green wobbly bits. 

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We fronted up at DIMIA at our allotted time and waited.  Waited some more.  In one of those really dead waiting rooms, no magazines to read, just other bored waitees watching some daytime TV with glazed expressions.  I was getting a little glazed too, even consdered playing with the box of kids' toys, when we were called.

Our Interviewer was okay, I guess.  He did his job, he wasn't too awful.  But oh yeah, the whole soul-baring stuff and justifying like hell, it was all there.  I felt like a criminal in the dock.  Very stupid but that's how it is; you're guilty until proved innocent.  I wouldn't like to be someone actually doing this for dodgy reasons, yeesh you'd need lessons from poker players and defence lawyers for months.

We went through everything - even though we'd included statements galore and histories of the relationship, even wedding photos, in the supporting documentation.  How we'd met, what had attracted us to one another, when we'd started to feel, well you know, when we'd begun discussing marriage etc if we had or was it a surprise, how we managed arguments (the fuck? we don't have arguments for a start but ... ), what about politics/religion/finances/household chores, what we thought of the other, how we'd describe the other to someone* ...  He was this far from asking us about our sex life, I swear, but I derailed that particular train with some babble. 

Its difficult enough to explain what you like about some guy, what appeals, to your best friend let alone some stranger who's looking at you like you're a total worm.  So yeah, that was tough going.  Two hours of the Justify Yourselves groove going, too.  Jeez.

I was actually pretty articulate and well behaved, although I began to feel a leeetle belligerent toward the end, but I felt like I was babbling and gabbling and running off at the mouth as never before.  Nerves, erk. 

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And then it was over, more or less and bar a couple of bits of paper and passport-stamping over the next couple of weeks.  We made it through.  And did we go celebrate like the mad passionate fools we are?  No we did not.  We were so ... stunned is the best word I can come up with, even Tuxedo which surprised me, we couldn't even make a decision about whether to have lunch in town or go to a restaurant or a pub or ...

So we went home.  You better believe we're a genuine married couple, Mr Interview Guy. 

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*and what did I say you may ask?  That my husband was loyal and thoughtful and caring, and great fun and fantastic company, he makes me laugh, I can talk to him about anything and trust him with my life.  So there.  And Tuxedo said some pretty ear-burning stuff too.  Awwww.

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