You Have Entered the Biometrics
So the other day I went to the biometrics appointment for my UK visa. First of all, who came up with this name biometrics. It sounds so Sci-Fi and silly. It’s just a fancy way of saying that they’re going to take your photo and fingerprints. Now that I’m officially in the “system” what will “they” do with that information. (Don’t you love my use of quotation marks?)
When I first walked into the Biometrics Center everything was roped off and I had to wait in a line at the door to speak to the security guard. We weren’t allowed to bring cell phones or cameras into the building. I don’t know why this would be. Are they afraid you’d take a picture of one of the cracked plastic chairs in the large drab room that looked like any other drab government waiting room. It could have been the DMV, if the people in the DMV were required to dress like Target workers. Everyone in the Biometrics Center had on red polo shirts and khaki pants.
When I filled out my online application there was a problem with my name. The computer kept combining my maiden name and current name into one crazy long name. When I tried to correct it it would always revert back to the original mistake. Finally I decided to forget it because I thought that anyone with common sense could look at the application and clearly see what the mistake was. Why did I think that the people in the Biometric Center would have common sense?
When I showed the security guard my passport and appointment form he shook his head at me and said the name didn’t match. I explained the problem to him and showed him my old passport with my maiden name on it. After much explaining he sent me to stand in another line.
The woman behind the counter there scrutinized my passport and appointment form, turning the pages in my passport book like she’d find an answer to the problem somewhere in there. “I have to talk to the supervisor,” she finally said. She disappeared into an office behind the counter. After a few minutes she came back and handed my passport and appointment form back to me along with a slip of paper with a number on it. I guess the supervisor gave her the go ahead to let me get photographed and fingerprinted.
Before I could sit down my number was called and a technician took my forms and furrowed his brow at them. “Your name is wrong. I have to talk to the supervisor,” he said. He disappeared into the office behind the counter. When he came out a few minutes later he started trying to enter my name into the computer and he kept saying that my name was too long to enter into the computer. Then the screen with black and he had to switch computers. It didn’t take long for him to fingerprint and photograph me. “I have to get the supervisor to check my work,” he said. He disappeared into the back office again and came out a moment later with the supervisor.
Apparently, if you’re the supervisor you are not required to dress like a Target employee but maybe you should be. The supervisor wore an over sized gray polo shirt and super tight black jeans, kind of 1985 style. She was the same complexion as me but her hair was dyed a harsh brassy blonde. She wore large heart shaped earrings and a heart necklace and several heart rings.
This is who everyone in this place is deferring to instead of using there own common sense? I thought. I mean really, if she doesn’t know that that’s a really bad hair color and that you shouldn’t outline your lips in dark brown and fill in the middle with frosty pink lipstick, how does she know what to do about my messed up name on my appointment form.
She clicked through the computer screens quickly her acrylic nails tapping on the keys. “Okay,” she said. Then she disappeared back into her office.
