Monday, February 16, 2009

Crying Gets You Everywhere...

Crying. So many songs have been written about it, be it Big Girls Don't Cry or I'll Do My Crying in the Rain. Today the theme was "Don't Cry For Me, UAE Embassy". I had to go to London this morning to get some work documents stamped by the aforesaid Embassy and had done all my research to make sure there would be no hiccups as I landed at 09.25 and had to fly home at 17.00 - a whistle stop trip if ever there was one.

I planed, trained and taxied to the Embassy with my parcel of documents and trusty bank draft to cover the ridiculously high fees they were charging and went it. So far, so good. Until the nice man behind the counter told me that the draft was £40 too much. What's the problem sez I? We can't take it, sez he, toddle off back to Dublin and get a new one like a good girl. Eh, I don't think so pet. I've got to have these blasted papers sent off by Fedex this afternoon and no excuses or I'll be in for a right tongue-lashing when I get back to the office.
I begged, I pleaded, I tried to reason with them, but the Embassy was not for turning.

Eventually I went for the last resort - floods of sobbing, mascara running, pink-eyed tears and not just for effect, these yokes had to be sorted or I was in line for a P45. Them some auld cow (to quote Mammy Dearest) presented her big ugly jobsworth mug at the desk and hissed at me that she could not alter the procedure and that was that. Her accounts were so precious that they couldn't cope with an overpayment as it would send the whole house of cards tumbling down. Bitch. After a few minutes, one of the nice ladies slipped me a post-it with an address - the main Embassy around the corner and told me to get over there. So I trudged up the street, another Kleenex clutched in my hand and snotting for Ireland and rang the bell. God love the poor man who got to talk to me because I was incoherent. A few minutes passed and I hiccuped out my sorry tale - he told me to have a nice sit down and leave it with him. The receptionist, god love her, kept coming over to me with tissues - I was half expecting a Mammy hug, she was so sympathetic. So I sat, and I calmed down enough to stick the tissues back in my bag... then I realised I'd no makeup with me to repair the flood damage! The nice man came back to me, told me Jim (aka him) had fixed it and to go back to the Auld Cow who promised to play nice this time.

So, back to the other office, where the nice people were still lovely and the Auld Cow was nowhere to be seen. I was told to return at 2.30 and they'd have everything ready for me. There was nothing to be done but take a walk down to Harrods to persuade a nice makeup lady to repaint my ravaged face. Big love to Leah at the Bobbi Brown counter who put a hex on the Auld Cow for me and turned me back into a human. After all that drama, I richly deserved the glass of wine with my lunch!!!

On the way home from the airport, I called into see Little Sis and Lulu who I hadn't visited in ages. Lulu was transfixed when I explained where I was today - she kept repeating it to her Mum - Mammy, Auntie Peefa was in a car, on a plane, on a train, in a taxi, in more taxis, on a train, on a plane and then in her car to see me!!! Funny how it's all about you when you're nearly 4

1 comment:

  1. u poor thing :) tho sometimes its good to ahve a good cry and get all the tears out!!!
    glad u got everything sorted though my dear!