Oh Canada... my home and native land can be such a pain in the ***

I'm going to talk about something here, which I have avoided talking about for a couple of reasons:

1. Everyone else is talking about it already, and if there's anything I'm not -- it's a joiner.
2. It has the ability to reduce me to a pile of quivering fists, guttural exclamations and sometimes tears of pure frustration.

I'm going to talk about the Passport Office.
More specifically, I'm going to talk about the currently EXCRUCIATING process of wrenching a new passport from their tightly clenched, constipated... I think you know where I'm going with this -- There was this time, once, where my cat ate a piece of tinsel, and it didn't quite make it through the other end -- well anyway, now you've got a picture to go along with it.

In my short life, I have come up against the Canadian government more times than seems really fair, considering I am a law-abiding citizen with an impeccable and morally righteous track record. I'm not a drinker, a smoker, I don't do drugs, or overeat -- I don't weigh heavily on the health system, or any other system for that matter. I pay my bills, I brush my teeth, and I have been known to be ferociously patriotic.

And yet. Many of you will remember the time a few years ago when I was AUDITED. Suddenly I was paying rent! Paying rent? A 21 year old going to university is paying RENT? Better expend taxpayers' money investigating that one...

Earlier this year, I filled out an application for a new passport. As I don't know anyone in Vancouver -- or at least no one who has known me for longer than 2 years. I had to send it home to Ontario to get it signed. My dad then sent it off to the passport office by registered mail so that he could confirm that it was received -- which it was, on February 1st. I finally received it last Friday -- the 4th of May.
Yes, you're right, that IS a ridiculous length of time.
But you know? I wouldn't have even really worried about it except that in between sending the application and receiving my passport I got a job -- a job that requires I sign up for the provincial healthcare and the extended health benefits of my employer -- a process that REQUIRES either my PASSPORT or my BIRTH CERTIFICATE, which were both, until Friday, being held hostage by the Passport Office.

The reason I have decided to recount this is because today in the Vancouver Sun I read this editorial about a pleasant passport experience. This made me think that a) this guy really is insane, b) maybe the reason I have such a hard time with anything governmental is because I'm me. Can I really be this unlucky? Or have I been added to some blacklist? Is this the reason no one will give me a credit card?

Clearly my paranoia is alive and thriving. But wait, there's more. Passport Canada currently has a promised 10 week turnover for passports because of its giant influx of applications. Okay fine, I get it, at least they've warned people, and what else am I going to do? HOWEVER -- for those of you who aren't up on your Sesame Street lately, let me just break that down for you: February 1st was a Thursday. May 4th was a Friday. Which brings us to the grand total of 14 weeks and 1 day. Also, since some ditsy girl called me on a Sunday late in April ("Hello Ms. H, we have your passport application here" --- "Um... bravo?"), I KNOW they are working weekends.

Then -- THEN! -- when the passport finally arrives, I eagerly rip open the envelope and take out my passport, shiny and new. I then shake the envelope but nothing else emerges. Where are my other documents you ask? The originals of my last passport and my BIRTH CERTIFICATE?? "Oh, those? Those are being sent separately. Unless it came from the Hull office. If it didn't come from the Hull office you're SOL. We trust this information has been useful to you."

TRUST NOTHING.

It seems to me that, apart from MYSELF, the common denominator here is that question -- that never-ending, vicious cycle of a question that governmental bureaucracy can never even begin to answer: "But, why?" Amazing how these government procedures have the ability to reduce us to the behaviour of two-year-olds -- that we must constantly demand explanations, and point out how ludicrous their operations are. "But... WHY?"

The Canadian government, ladies and gentlemen, the number one national source of forehead smacking.

(And I'm still waiting on the return of my documents.)