The waiting game

Apparently I broke "the code" so badly in my last post, that no one really knew what to say at such a flagrant display of social ineptness. Fortunately for all of my readers, I want to share something with you today that I'm sure a lot of my readers, especially those who have had to deal with the Kafkaesque bureaucracy that is the USCIS, can relate to. And for those of you who are lucky enough to have just said, "the what?", just see this post as a way to experience some nice German schadenfreude.*

Anyway, besides apparently having the tenacity of a terrier, the social graces of a hippopotamus, I also fall a little short in the patience department. And although I have no problem explaining the same thing over and over and over again to a confused student, if you make me wait for something, I will be crawling up on the ceiling in no time. Especially if it's something that I can in no way control or foresee how long it might take. So if a plane is delayed by fifteen minutes, I'm fine. If my dentist tells me it will be another ten minutes, I'm cool too. As long as I know how long I have to wait, I am patience personified. But whenever I don't know how long something will take, I become an edgy bundle of nerves. And not just that, but my mind will, fairly quickly, have spun out an intricate tale of why something is taking this long, then figured out that all of that has obviously happened to me, a thought which will always end in the conclusion that I will, from that moment on, cease to know happiness ever again.

Oy, indeed.

Right now, my beef is with the US Postal Service. Don't get me wrong, I really like our mail carriers, and the ladies at our post office are always really nice, but why does mail take so long in this country? Doesn't the postal service realize that some of us are waiting on really important things?

For instance, I'm still waiting on a package with Christmas presents from my brother, which obviously has gotten lost. Forever. Obviously. (and because this proves the unreliability of parcel service, you do realize that my brother will never ever sent a package again. Ever. Obviously.)

And then there is the case of the W2 that might be missing. Or  not. I received an email from the HR department that they mailed my W2 this past Saturday, and of course it still hasn't arrived. Now although my brain is currently somewhat calmed down by the thought that Monday was a holiday, I know it won't be long before it's decided that my W2 didn't just get lost, oh no, it was stolen by a bunch of thieves who will now use my identity to open up credit cards, acquire driver's licenses, and commit crimes, thus ruining my life forever.

But the case that takes the cake is my N400. As you may remember, I made a promise last December to mail that thing. Soon-ish at least. And I did. May the record show that I mailed it January 10 (which, as far as I'm concerned is a record for my little procrastinator's soul). And although I'm pretending to be all cool and relaxed about it, you all know I'm secretly on pins and needles. Especially since I haven't received the little green return receipt yet. Now the USPS website tells me the package was delivered on the 14th, which sets my mind off into an endless calculation, "Well, that was a week ago today. If they sent the stub back on Friday, then it should have been here by now. Really. But Monday was a holiday, so does that mean it didn't get sent until Tuesday? So then when should it get here?".

Then of course there is the fact that the check made out to the USCIS hasn't been cashed either. For those of you (blissfully) unaware of this; there's a $680 fee attached to applying for citizenship. So I wrote the check, had a minor aneurysm, and then included it in my package. Most other people's checks get cashed within a week. Mine hasn't, and you have no idea what this does with my already frazzled mind. Did they lose it? Is my package sitting on the wrong pile? Did it even make it to the right place?

It goes on and on. Because there's also the "O.M.G. I don't know when they will schedule my fingerprints/interview, so should I book any vacations right now? Or should I wait until I know those dates? But what if all the good tickets are gone then?", not to mention the worries about lost notices of action and other important paperwork sent through the mail. It really does never end. It's seriously a miracle I remember how to get dressed in the morning with all that raging through my head.

So as far as I'm concerned, the waiting game is not a game at all. It's serious, painful, and really messes with my mind. Now excuse me while I go outside and set up a tent next to our mailbox.

* For those of you not familiar with it, please check out this song from Avenue Q. If you're still not quite comfortable with the term "schadenfreude", this song will clear it right up for (listener discretion advised).