Bonafide Resident, Again

I did the dreaded residence permit renewal drill down at our intimidating post office this morning. You know, I can browse the aisles in an old rundown paint store with my head held high in the dregs of Doha by myself while being eye raped by a multitude of male workers and customers hanging around, but send me to that post office and I become a total wuss. Maybe its the fact that you have to figure out on your own the ins and outs of the whole process and being a menial woman (wink!) that's no easy task. They have a "wait in line and pick a number" system, so that you can sit around and wait, again. Then when they do finally call your number, there's that fear of wondering if you have everything you need because they could have changed the rules while you were waiting in line. I used the word "dreaded" to describe the trip since it took me three trips to the post office before having everything right for my original residence permit two years ago. I don't have a reputation for being early (or even on time), so imagine how proud I was when I arrived this morning before any of the workers. Oh, wait, maybe they were late. After all the guy did stroll in at 7:42 even though the "working time" sign clearly said 7:00am. After doing the mandatory ghutra flip a few times and bellowing out a few yawns and stretches, he was ready for his first customer thirteen minutes later. Thank goodness I was number four because I could tell this was going to take a while. Each new employee that showed up had to be greeted with conversation, handshakes, and more conversation before settling back at the old workstation. You would think I would be happy with the interruptions, since it meant new blood to help out at the counter, but the two extra guys that showed up didn't do squat. I can't complain. I was still out of there in record time of one hour and only one trip. Now, I'm good to go for two more years.


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