Today was a day to forget. We had an appointment to sort out the second half of our visas. This involved having our fingerprints taken and getting our “RNE” number. This entitles us to get our permanent visas for Brazil, open bank accounts, start to pay taxes and as far as Steve is concerned, the most important of all, joining the golf club.
To give you some back ground. Normally, after getting the first part of the visa, (the CPF) , (which we did in March, in New York, ) you arrive back and present yourself to the Federal Police about a week later to get the RNE part.
(Steve says I have not quite got the technicalities right - but why spoil a good story with the facts?)
Well, it turns out that staff at the Federal police had been selling RNE numbers for a not inconsiderable fee and having been found out, were sacked. The ones that hadn’t been involved in this racket then came out on strike to support the ones that had. The result is that having got our first part in March, we had an appointment to get the second part at the end of June. Trouble is, you can’t leave the country without getting the second, and as I am off to the States tomorrow, and Steve on Saturday, we needed to get the RNE sorted.
So this morning, we made an emergency appointment to get fingerprinted etc etc.
The day actually started well. The discussion with Marcelo went something along the lines, “Marcelo, how long to get to the Federal police?” The reply, “About 2 hours”. “Solange,” ( Steve’s secretary.) “How long to get to the Federal police?” “About 45 miniutes”. We compromised, allowed about an hour and a bit, and we arrived at 8.30, half an hour early for our appointment.
The trouble started when Sergio, (relief and trainee driver) parked in front of the café opposite the Federal police building, blocking the entrance to a car park. A bit daft to say the least and the cashier of the car park started gesticulating and shouting, leaving no doubt as to his meaning. Marcelo & Sergio disappeared with the car whilst we headed to the café to wait. The next time I saw them, Marcelo was wearing his bullet proof vest – not a good start.
We apologized to the garage owner, who also happened to own the café where we were having breakfast and waited for the lawyer.
BMS had paid a lawyer to basically expedite the process. As it turns out, they need not have bothered. The lawyer arrived, we checked in and deposited our papers and were told that the process basically entailed signing a document ( 20 minutes to a one hour wait) followed by fingerprints with a further 1 – 3 hour wait. ( Average time 2 hours). So we waited, and waited and waited.
The lawyer announced that after 2 and a half hours, she was off to other meetings but would leave her side kick to look after us and to do any translating. The side kick had started working for the lawyer on Monday so had about as much idea of the process as we did.
Well. It turns out that today was a bit of an unusual day. There were very few people on duty and the place was absolutely heaving. About a year ago the Brazilian government gave an amnesty to Bolivian illegal immigrants to become legal, so the place was literally full of Bolivians. Wives and children in tow. Then on Wednesdays in particular it is “Mormon” day and the local Mormon Temple bring literally bus loads of what can only be described as pilgrims who are on temporary visas to get their fingerprints done.
By 3 pm (and we were still waiting to sign the first piece of paper (20 minute wait)) the fat lady sang. Or to be more presice,the fat lady screamed. It turns out that this woman had been in the queue since 12 o’ clock to deposit her papers. At around 12.15 a sign went up to say that the counter clerk would be back by 1 pm. In fact the sign didn’t get taken down until 2.15 , by which time the line was almost out of the building. Then, at 3 pm, the shutter went down and no more people were to be checked in that day. It turns out that the fat lady, was 8 months pregnant and was the next in line when the shutter went down. Having been standing for 3 hours, only to be told that she was not going to be processed, she totally lost it. And I mean “lost it”. Joan Sutherland would have been given a run for her money. The entire place heard what she was saying. Even the two of us who are still struggling to understand Portuguese knew exactly what was going on. More police arrived and bullet proof vests were definitely the order of the day.
So by 4.30 we still hadn’t signed the pieces of paper that we should have signed 20 minutes after our arrival. The lawyer by now had returned from her meetings or shopping trips and was in serious danger of losing face.
Steve, having started the day in a pretty calm manner, and having cancelled all his meetings was beginning to become concerned. After all, the golf club membership was on the line here. I was still okay but worried that the dog had been sitting cross legged for 9 hours.
Steve finally called his secretary who in turn called the head of security.
Here is where “ it’s not what you know but who you know” takes precedence. It turns out that the head of BMS security knows several people in the Federal Police. I have no idea who he called or what favours he called in. All I know is that within about 5 minutes we were having our finger prints taken. We bypassed the stage about signing various documents and because it was so sudden, we were totally taken aback and all I saw were two UK passports being waved in the air and the names “Su-ee Mer-hickee” and “Shtee-hee Mer-hickee” being called. We clambered over everyone to get to the front of the line.
Thank you Solange and Pinheiro.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment