The French Visa Process is a Nightmare: Part II

My first time applying for a Visa at the French consulate in DC did not go well. I figured the lack of preparation on my end could have been better back in 2013 and that was why I had so much trouble. So this summer, I decided that I needed to be more detail-oriented this time, more careful. More something. I would be sure my second visa application went off without a hitch or I’d die trying. 

Admittedly, I acted like a crazy person. I took every step I could think of to cater to the French Consulate People. I made my appointment 8 weeks in advance. I combed through lists of documents I would need. I had multiple folders, labeled in intricate detail. I had prepared documents no one had even asked for. I looked over their website a thousand times and double checked that I had my ENVELOPE. In a word, I was obsessed. This application was going to be perfect so that no one could have the satisfaction of yelling at me. I was wrong. 

I thought everything was going great until I got an email from the French Consulate People (who I will now refer to as the FCP) on July 22, explaining that “due to technical issues,” my appointment for July 31st had been cancelled. Ok. I was cool. Stuff happens. Maybe the FCP forgot about a dentist appointment they had that day. I’m not here to judge. I sent them an email back, rescheduling for August 2nd. I did not think about the fact that August 2nd was a Sunday and the FCP were definitely not gonna work on a Sunday. This fact would become abundantly clear to me in their response:

Yikes. It's pretty safe to say that they had gotten their panties in a wad. I had enough experience at this point, to know that this is just the way they are. But still. I mean, come on, FCP. Get it together. I had never before received such an unprofessional and downright rude email. It's not surprising or anything. It's just annoying. I did not send a snarky email back, mostly because I thought they might withhold my visa. So I replied (after many sassier versions):

Their response? A simple, “Indeed.” 

Ok. You still with me? Everything was back on track. This time I drove myself to DC for what could only be a wonderfully pleasant experience. My goal was not to cry. I arrived at the consulate, got my “visa” badge, took my number and my seat and waited. I got this. Finally, my number was called and I walked up to the first guy. I remembered him from last time. He was the guy who angrily told me to “Stop CRYING!” Awesome. 

So there I was. With mountains of paperwork neatly arranged in my folder, my passport, my passport sized photos. And two. Count ‘em. Two. Envelopes. (One was a UPS and another USPS.) He asked for each document from my collection, which I gave to him. One my one, my documents were scrutinized, showed to the lady next to him, and then paper clipped together with the others. He asked for one that was definitely not on the list. Small victory for me. (Yay!)

Don’t get me wrong. I was not feeling confident. Actually, I was trying very hard not to hyperventilate. The man took my picture with a camera perched above his booth. After giving me a suspicious look, I was finally told to sit back down and wait to be called up again.  

After another 20 minutes of sitting with the other people waiting, I was called up to a lady’s booth. One look at her, smirking behind her glass box, I knew I had a problem. “You cannot smile in your passport photos!” She yelled,  “You need to get new passport photos taken! And your ENVELOPE is wrong!” I was trying desperately to stay positive. “Ok,” I said, “How about this envelope?” I asked. Remember how I had two just in case? “NO! It is WRONG!” And then that woman looked at me and said, “Did you even look at the website?” 

 I replied, “Yes I did.” It was a stand off. There should have been old-timey western music playing. “You need to get new passport pictures taken and go to the post office for an EXPRESS USPS ENVELOPE! Stamped and prepaid!” She held all the cards and we both knew it. Looking right into my eyes she sneered and said, “Be back by 12:30.” I looked at my watch. It was 12:05. 

Long story short, I met up with my wonderful cousin and we ran around DC and got passport photos taken and my prepaid ENVELOPE from the post office in Georgetown. We went to CVS and to a passport photo place. I dropped everything off at 2:00 when the FCP came back from lunch. Things could’ve been worse, I thought. And I didn’t cry, so there’s that. 

About two weeks later, my passport arrived at my house. Inside, there it was. “French Visa” written across the top of the page, my face grimacing back at me. Only the picture of me wasn’t the one I bought for $35 at the passport place. Oh, no. It was the one the grumpy man took after he went through my paperwork. Whatever.

*Don’t let grumpy, sometimes downright mean Visa People keep you from going abroad. It’s totally worth it. Let them be grumpy. Let them be power-hungry weirdos. And get your visa anyway. Be polite, be direct, and most importantly, do your best to be prepared. But you still might not have everything right and that’s ok. In a few months, you’ll be traveling around having a great time and they’ll still be sitting in their glass boxes calling out numbers.