Sarcasm is difficult to decipher through written text (just one more reason I don’t care to blog). Without seeing a subtle smirk or hearing the inflection of a voice, it takes some extra work on the part of the reader to correctly identify and interpret the writer’s true intent. All that to say, I feel the need to clarify that I am being completely serious here…but for the lack of waiting room décor and furnishings (which were obviously standard government-issue), we could not have been more impressed with the US Citizenship and Immigration office that we visited last week for our fingerprinting. It singlehandedly redeemed our opinion of governmental service providers (Ryan thinks this statement is over the top, but he was impressed nonetheless).
We arrived about 8 minutes before our scheduled appointment to find “a lot” of cars parked in the lot and in the streets surrounding the little nondescript warehouse-type building. We had read on our appointment summons that “cell phones, cameras or other recording devices” were not allowed. Ryan shed his phone, and I left my camera in the car, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving my phone behind since the kids were back home with a babysitter . So, I just left mine stuffed in my purse, silenced, but on.
As we were entering the building, there was a sign on the door about the cell phones. I didn’t stop to read if it said “not allowed inside the building” or “no usage” or what. But, I wasn’t too worried since the thing was quietly stuffed at the bottom of my purse. No problem.
Two steps inside the door, I saw two uniformed guards with a metal detector and airport x-ray machine. Possible problem.
I pled ignorance, saying that I had seen the sign on the door about cell phones but had been moving too fast to read it…were they not allowed at all inside the building? The guard asked if we were here for fingerprinting, and I said that we were. He said that we’d be fine as long as it was silenced. Whew. Almost flunked fingerprinting before it started.
One of the guards (a 60 year-old Caucasian man) could see that I was all flustered about the cell phone thing and about the unexpected x-ray. I was hurriedly trying to get metal out of my pockets and retrieve paperwork from my purse, not wanting to hold up the line or irritate the men with firearms. He kindly assured me that there was no rush and invited me to take my time. Then, he inspected our appointment summons and saw that we were there on an orphan petition. He asked what country we were adopting from. When we told him, he smiled and asked, “How are you doing today?” In Amharic…the official language of Ethiopia. We recognized it but were not smart enough to answer him. Graciously he floated us the Amharic line for, “Fine, thank you.” We assured him that we’ll take a crash course and pick up few key phrases before we travel. A nice touch for him to take an interest in us.
As we rounded the corner and followed the officers’ directions to the “last door on the right,” it was like we stepped into another world. We, as American citizens, became the distinct minority. There were probably 100 individuals and families sitting in various corners and sections of the waiting room. Many were quietly speaking their native language to each other, and some were dressed in attire from their culture of origin. I realized that these good folks were not here to be fingerprinted for orphan petitions. They were immigrants pursuing American citizenship and were waiting for their official interviews by the USCIS officials (thus the restrictions regarding recording devices). Nerve-racking, I can only imagine.
When we made our way to the other end of the waiting room, we stood in front of a half door with a sign that said something to the effect of “Please be advised that due to our scheduled volume, wait times may exceed one hour.” Nice. The clerk asked for our appointment summons, gave us some paperwork to complete, and handed us numbers. We sat down with clipboards and filled out the short sheet of information. It didn’t take more than three minutes. And, I had no sooner put down my pen, than she called our numbers. As it turns out, we were about the only ones there just for fingerprinting. The extended wait time is for the citizenship interviews.
So, we hurried back into the office and offered up our digits. There were two technicians, and they took us simultaneously. It was the same drill as before when we were printed by the local police department for our FBI background checks. All four fingers together, then each finger and thumb “rolled” individually. The clerks were so quick and professional (and mine was very friendly…we chatted about how many fingerprints he rolls in an average day, etc). They completed our forms, told us the next steps, and sent us on our way.
In case you haven’t been convicted of a crime lately, perhaps you didn’t realize that there is no ink involved in fingerprinting these days. Even our local PD has gone digital. They have this fancy screen on which they roll your fingers and voila! Your fingerprint image shows up on a screen in front of you. Amazing and a little terrifying. Not sure I’m ready for this type of technological biometric business…a step closer to imbedding ourselves with microchips if you ask me.
But all in all, fingerprinting was a success. We expect our CIS approval form sometime next week. Then, the whole adoption dossier package goes to the KS Secretary of State for certification.
Sarah
