Immigration: Choose your OWN adventure

Grab a cup of coffee, sit down and settle in.  Here begins the saga:

At the risk of "complaining" at my own peril, let me preface this "rant" with a little preamble.  Anyone who has ever moved anywhere knows that there is a certain (plethora) of red tape and the like one must navigate (while trying to appear somewhat graceful) through, over, or under.  I can assure you, from what I hear from our American friends, that it is certainly NO difference immigrating to Canada.   From banking, to shipping, to work visas, to social insurance....  I think by the time we are ready to leave again, the paperwork end of things will just be wrapping up and we'll have to do it all over again.

Let me paint you just a few simple pictures.  Jordan's seven boxes of materials (which he shipped to his office since we had no address at the time) got stopped at the border in "no-where-us-canada."  We were told that the boxes could not be shipped and that we would have to go through the boxes, itemize them with such details as the make, fabric, thread-count of all materials.  Really.  How exactly do we do that?  Fly up to "No-where-us-canada-border" and just open the boxes and spend several hours itemizing and detailing the items of seven boxes.  Hmmmm...  Not sure how that is going to happen.  Turns out, it was a quick fix.  We just reshipped to our personal address.  OH!  Now you don't need all that info.  Tada!  Wait, the boxes somehow ended up in Calgary instead. ????

Then there was Jordan's documentation to get his work visa. He had "everything he needed" apparently, until he went to fly through.  "Oh.  You need your degree.  Nope, not a photocopy.  The actual thing."  So Jordan had to fly all the way home, take the degree off the wall and out of the FRAME.  Oh, it's GLUED onto the backing.  Maybe he'll just bring the framed degree with two 70 lb suitcases full of clothing PLUS two carry-ons.  Ok, maybe not.  

Good times.  And just like every other time in Jordan's life, someone screwed up his name on official paperwork while he was coming through.  From insurance to banking information, it's always "Jordon," "Gordon," "Porter" or "Davis." No one quite gets it right.  So neither of us should have been surprised when immigration wasn't any different.

Once the mistake was made, it is not easily undone.  The saga began at the Social Insurance Office (recommended by unnamed co-worker).  There were signs posted on the door saying "NO FOOD" beside a sign with a big gun and a X through the middle.  Jordan entered a room full of people lounging about, some sleeping on the benches and thought, "Greaaaaaat, this is going to be quick."  Not sure what all those people were doing, but Jordan's name wasn't long being called.  He was informed that someone had entered his name incorrectly and that he would have to go to the immigration office to change it in the system.

Saga continued when he went, the next day, to Destination #2: Immigration Office in Alexandria.  He was told upon his arrival that this particular office only did finger prints and biometrics.  He proceeded to Destination #3 the Immigration Office in Fairfax (30 minutes away), but he had to have an appointment. Deciding to forgo said appointment, Jordan just showed up unannounced. He had to go through airport-like security this time and was never asked whether he had an appointment.  He managed to find an officer who was not meeting with anyone. He told him the whole story (incorrect name on paperwork, trip to Social Insurance office and Immigration office in  Alexandria, etc) and although he was sympathetic there was nothing he could do.  But he could go to Dulles airport (another 30 minutes away), and they can sort it out for him.

Next, again on the same day, Jordan proceeded to the Dulles Airport (Destination #4) which is the size of the West Edmonton Mall and found an agent (down a random corridor at the far end of the airport) who disappeared for awhile with his passport, leaving Jordan twiddling his thumbs.  Jordan ponders the resemblance of this sojourn to the "Choose your own adventure books" that were around when he was a kid.  The agent returned to inform him that indeed he had come to the right place but that he would need to return Monday to Thursday between the hours of 2pm and 4pm, the designated "fix the errors time."  The happy gift and the bottom of this empty cereal box of an adventure?  Jordan got to spend the next hour fighting his way through 5pm traffic on a Friday afternoon to get home.

The next week he proceeded to Destination #4 (again).... between said "hours" only to find that that the "real" hours were between noon and 2:00.  Agad!  Jordan headed down the corridor to a row of chairs outside a locked door to wait.  There were no numbers to take to wait.  He had to knock on a door that said it is closed and no one came to answer. Finally, after barricading the door for the elusive agent who kept disappearing, he was able to chase down someone who agreed to help him.  He returned to tell Jordan that he should sit.  "This is going to take awhile."  It took an hour.

Well, apparently the saga is near over and he is able to pick up his social insurance number next week.  "All you have to do is pick it up."  Yes, I am sure.  Like it's that easy.  On the plus side, between business trips, paperwork drama and tying things up at home, no one knows who "Jordan" is at work.  "Jordan, who?"

Any other crazy immigration adventures out there....?