DMV Redux
Day after day after day has ticked by with us hearing nothing from USCIS regarding our file. Is it complete? Were we not-so-patiently waiting only to get another misinformed letter dictating unnecessary corrections to our paperwork?
After yesterday's mail revealed another fruitless day of waiting, I couldn't stand it anymore. I dug deep in my email where I had stored the most precious of info offered up by another frustrated adoptive parent - an actual, real telephone number to the person I needed to talk to at USCIS. The fates must have aligned just right at the moment D. dialed, because he got her on the phone. On the first try. And she had .... no.... idea.... where our paperwork was - she never received it from the flunky I spoke with a week ago. So, D. conferenced me in and I answered her questions - who did I leave it with? what did she look like? what time was I there? and so on...She then commented matter-of-factly that our paperwork should never have been sent back to us in the first place, because, the rest of it was stamped "Paid" . Fast forward to today...the paperwork has been found, and a fingerprint appointment has finally been assigned.
Where was it, you ask? In a bin. On the flunky's desk. Waiting to go upstairs. With one other piece of paper from another file. And the flunky doesn't walk upstairs with the papers until the bin gets full. Completely full. Who would have thought that a few flights of stairs would grind our adoption to a screeching halt?
After yesterday's mail revealed another fruitless day of waiting, I couldn't stand it anymore. I dug deep in my email where I had stored the most precious of info offered up by another frustrated adoptive parent - an actual, real telephone number to the person I needed to talk to at USCIS. The fates must have aligned just right at the moment D. dialed, because he got her on the phone. On the first try. And she had .... no.... idea.... where our paperwork was - she never received it from the flunky I spoke with a week ago. So, D. conferenced me in and I answered her questions - who did I leave it with? what did she look like? what time was I there? and so on...She then commented matter-of-factly that our paperwork should never have been sent back to us in the first place, because, the rest of it was stamped "Paid"
Where was it, you ask? In a bin. On the flunky's desk. Waiting to go upstairs. With one other piece of paper from another file. And the flunky doesn't walk upstairs with the papers until the bin gets full. Completely full. Who would have thought that a few flights of stairs would grind our adoption to a screeching halt?