I finally got my récepissé yesterday! I can check off one more box on the paperwork road to Brazil.
The journey was anything but smooth, however.
The first thing I did when I got to work was bring the list of required documents to HR. I needed a copy of my work permit, something called an "attestation", and some other stuff. I handed the list over, told the tragic story of my dossier being lost, and asked (begged) for a quick collection of the papers.
The HR girl squinted at the list and said, "I don't know what this is." She handed it to another girl, who handed it to a third. They didn't know either. I quivered on the spot and wanted to yell, "But you knew what it was in January the first time I asked!!!"
"Can you come back on Monday?" she asked. No, I said, I couldn't. I needed it today.
Instead, I agreed to come back after lunch. At 1:30 I dashed upstairs to HR and was mildly surprised to be handed a sheaf of papers. Incidentally, they were not the same papers I was given in January, but I wasn't about to argue.
By 2:30 I was on the road to the prefecture. I stood in the same line for an hour, and as luck would have it, got the same guy behind the window. He remembered me, which might have been a bad thing considering the near tantrum I'd thrown the day before. Again, I felt sorry for him, having to deal with cranky foreigners all day. He had sad eyes and looked physically exhausted. He reminded me of a sour version of one of the Wiggles.
Anyway, no matter how bad I felt, I was on a mission. I slapped down the envelope of meticulously color photocopied, collated, and paperclipped documents onto his counter and gave him a look that said "You know what I want."
He nodded morosely and took the envelope to a back room. A few minutes later he returned and said, "I need a copy of your current carte de sejour" (which, by the way, is NOT on the list). I pulled it out of my bag and held it out for him. He pointed to the photocopy machines on the other side of the room. I gave him a new look that said "Now I know you have a copy machine back there, buddy. Let's save us both some time." but it didn't work.
So I fished 10 centimes out of my bag, copied the carte, and returned. "Ah," he said apologetically, "I need both sides". As I walked back to the machine, digging through my bag for another coin, I wondered what would have happened if I didn't have the right change - would I have been sent away to come back tomorrow?
The grumpy Wiggle took my copies and disappeared again. When he returned he said nothing, but flopped into his chair and took out a blank récepissé form. I leaned forward in anticipation. Was this it? Had I done it?
As he put the form through the printer and trimmed my ID photo, he asked where I was going. I said I was going to Brazil for work. He smiled sadly and said I must have a good job, the only place he got to visit was his counter at the prefecture.
Finally he slid my finished récepissé across the counter. He hadn't asked to see my flight information or letter of intent to visit Brazil at all. "That's all?" I asked incredulously. You're actually going to give it to me?
"Ah, the French administration is beautiful, no?" he said with a sarcastic smile.
"Yes, well, every time I come here I have to return 2 or 3 times."
He pointed to the long line behind me and said, "But most people have to come 5 or 6 times."
So I guess I should consider myself lucky.
Next stop: Brazilian consulate!
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