Recovering: The Permanent Passport

So getting my passport turned out to be pretty efficient in the end. The temporary passport got me to Rome and London, and within a few short weeks the permanent version was done. Of course, for all the effectiveness demonstrated by the American Passport Authority, I still had to rely on the French Chronopost system (which is sort of like FedEx) to get it to me.

The application for a passport required a self-addressed French Chronopost envelope, which does not come cheap. For that price I expected first class delivery directly into my hands, but what I got was a letter in the mail: We could not reach you. Your package is waiting in our office, please contact us to make delivery arrangements. Call this number, at a price of 15 centimes a minute.

After translating the letter and a little bit of grumbling I called the number. "We couldn't get into your building" they informed me politely. "We need your door code."

Ah, all they needed was the door code. I recited the number, and asked when they could make the delivery.

"Monday morning, 9h00."

"Great."

"You'll be there?"

"No." I have a job, duh.

"Then we can't make delivery. You need to be there."

Argh!

Finally, we agreed that they would send the envelope to the Conflans post office, where I could pick it up at my convenience. The next day I left work early and fled to the post office, just in time to see the gate close in front of my face. A man stood behind the door as he lowered the gate, and I've lived in France long enough to know how to get him to help me; I pouted.

He eyed me skeptically, but accepted the Chronopost letter I stuffed through the gate. He retreated to the back room and returned a few minutes later: We don't have it. Have you tried the other post office?

Oh, the OTHER post office. The one that WASN'T on my side of town. Which was also closed at this hour. Shoot.

The next day I called Chronopost again and made no attempt to hide my irritation as I politely asked exactly to which post office they'd sent the envelope. Confirmed: the OTHER post office.

Another early departure from the office, another trip to another post office where a bored clerk finally handed over the precious envelope. I ripped it open before I even walked away from the counter, tipped the contents into my hand then into my purse, and ditched the Chronopost envelope on the way out the door. Done.