This is how immigration should work. As a legal resident living in Paris, all of your most…read moreimportant paperwork and inquiries pass through this inpenetrable island fortress. You're not even going to a 'bureau of immigration', like you would even in a police state like China; you're going to a militarised police compound on an island, with sub machine guns, and thick bulletproof doors with submarine like security signals, and all that. If you have some business here, it should spell a very bad day for you.
It doesn't. There is a reception desk with civilian ladies answering questions and giving you directions within the compound. Let's say you have a question about something really complicated, like that you've applied for a carte de séjour, but it hasn't arrived by the time your visa has expired, and you need to leave the country on business. No problem! Somewhere in this compound someone has the answer, and instead of giving you the typical French 'Non, c'est pas possible' they instead tell you exactly where you need to go to have your question answered that day.
Yes, when you get to the appropriate office, you have to take a ticket and wait, but you should always bring a book on such occasions. When it's your turn, you are greeted by a compitent, professional, and impeccably polite officer who speaks English. Mine was a lady officer who was also pretty... this is too much!
The first question you get is basically, 'OK, so did you do all the sh* that we told you like 10 times to do?' They know you haven't. You haven't bothered to changing your address. Didn't you get something in the mail eight months ago about a medical exam, or some such nonsense that you piled underneath all the other things you're putting off? Meh, it's OK, she'll sort you out. Did you forget to bring the one document you need? Meh, it's OK, here's her email address, scan it and send it to her when you can.
10 mimutes later: 'Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Daniel?'
'Um... no... not really, no..' I mean, I suppose I could use a fist-bump and to hear that I'm special and that everyone loves me... there's also that cabinet in the bathroom that won't close that you keep meaning to fix... but, no, she has just solved every problem that one could reasonably pose to her.
Upon leaving, you feel shame for having maybe let her down for not doing all those things before. 'Argh.. I'm so irresponsible. .. I'm really going to make an effort to follow all the laws in the future.'
A simple act of professionalism, kindness, and humanity is a thousand times more effective than a sub machine gun, and they understand that here. This is a rare gem in the world.
