A Pakistani cab driver was the lone witness to my unexpected tearful outburst yesterday morning.
I went to the Philippine Consulate in Al Qusais for two reasons:
I went to the Philippine Consulate in Al Qusais for two reasons:
- to submit the marriage documents on behalf of my brother and his wife as it was nearing the deadline for submission already.
- to get a special power of attorney form for my friend Michael
I was reluctant to make this trip for again, two reasons:
- At their wedding, it was decided that it was Leslie's sister who will be submitting the documents
- I had a job interview scheduled at 2 p.m. that same day and my brother only told me the night before. I did not want to be bothered with any activity on an interview day.
After much pleading and prodding, I finally agreed. Anyway, I was just going to fall in line, submit the documents and ask for the form. It should not be taking too long.
Was I wrong! At the satellite office, lots of people were milling about, queuing for different purposes. The line at the Visa section was short and I was second in the queue. Fine, this should be over in ten minutes max. Unfortunately, the person in front of me had lots of questions about marriage documents. I was getting impatient but tried to put myself in the guy's shoes. I let it pass.
Finally, my turn came. The guy in the counter reviewed the papers and said that even the marriage documents needed to be reproduced. He needed five copies each for the three-page marriage document. I asked if there was a photocopying machine in the office. The guy said that they have but it would be more expensive as they charge 2 dirhams per page. I would be shelling out 30 dirhams for 15 pages. I told him that I needed to call my brother first.
Kuya said that since there was nothing else that could be done, I might as well proceed with photocopying the documents there. I called up Leslie and told her of my predicament. She said it was too expensive and maybe I should just have it photocopied somewhere else. I asked the deadline for the submission. She said she didn't know. I felt my temperature matching the scorching heat of the sun.
Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I lined up at the cashier to pay for the photocopies. I was about to pay when I got a call again. It was my kuya and his wife on conference. They said that I should just go ahead and pay 30 dirhams. I got annoyed and said, "I'm already paying for it!!!"
Now, the photocopying machine is in the nearby main building. There was a small crowd in front of the main door. I asked if this was where I should go for photocopying. The person said I just have to open the door, look for the person-in-charge, hand over my documents and the official receipt and wait for the person to call me back. I was to position myself at the front door to receive my docs and the photocopies.
Realizing that this will take a few minutes, I ran outside the gate to tell Mr. Cab Driver to wait for a few more minutes. He asked how long he should wait. I said 10-15 minutes. He asked about the taxi meter. I said he should not worry because I will pay.
I waited, waited and waited at the front door. The others have already received the documents and new batches of people were joining the crowd. I was getting really, really impatient! I started ticking off the things that I still needed to do before my interview: marinate the porkchops, cook them, cook rice, take a bath, dress up, put on makeup. I was shaking my head in disbelief. Surely all these had to happen on the day of my interview!
Finally, I received my papers but the girl just handed them all to me without fixing them! I rush back to the satellite office and arranged the papers. Someone else was still talking to the guy I talked earlier. I groaned. How much longer will I have to wait?
Fortunately, not for long. I apologized to the guy because I did not have a stapler. The documents were now ready for submission! Now for the form...The guy said that there were many kinds of power-of-attorney forms. Michael did not tell me which one I was supposed to get. I was irked. I told the guy that I would have to make another call to clarify. The form was to be used for a loan. The guy said that for forms, I needed to line up anew. Sensing that I was getting annoyed and harassed already, he just handed me the forms. I smiled and said thank you.
I ran to the cab and apologized to the driver. By then, I was already in a foul mood. I was not going to have enough time to do everything! Anger was already starting to gnaw at my whole being. I tried to distract myself but well, anger got the better of me. One large tear rolled from my left eye. I stubbornly wiped it away. In my mind, I was chanting, "Do not cry in the cab. Do not crryyy in the caaaabbb!". The more I said this, the more I felt like crying. I was arguing with myself. Why was I even very angry? Why was I allowing anger to get to me?
Not finding valid answers, I could not contain myself anymore. I let the tears flow, and with them, all my raging thoughts. Why must I do errands on a very important day? Why do I need to cook for the boys? Why do I feel like I am an errand girl? I cried intermittently from Al Qusais all the way to my home in Bur Dubai. And in between these angry thoughts, I was fretting over how I will look in the interview later that day. Surely, I can't be seen with puffy eyes! I was really upset because everything was all messed up! Instead of focusing my energies on the interview, now I even have to psyche myself to get over that morning's events and let go of my fury.
At this point, the cab driver could not help but ask why I was crying. He asked what happened and if I wanted tissue. I initially declined because I already had my hanky. However, seeing his earnestness to help, I got the two tissues. In a broken voice, I try to explain the sequence of events. Mr. Driver became my sounding board and tried to cheer me up. It was all so surreal. I could not believe that I was making a mess of myself in a cab and he was trying his best to calm me down. "Everything will be all right.", he said. Inshallah, it will.
We arrived soon after. I gave the poor cab driver a tip and apologized for all the drama.
This is my first real crying bout in Dubai. Funny how my first real cry was out of anger and not out of homesickness. Meanwhile, life goes on. It just has to.
Was I wrong! At the satellite office, lots of people were milling about, queuing for different purposes. The line at the Visa section was short and I was second in the queue. Fine, this should be over in ten minutes max. Unfortunately, the person in front of me had lots of questions about marriage documents. I was getting impatient but tried to put myself in the guy's shoes. I let it pass.
Finally, my turn came. The guy in the counter reviewed the papers and said that even the marriage documents needed to be reproduced. He needed five copies each for the three-page marriage document. I asked if there was a photocopying machine in the office. The guy said that they have but it would be more expensive as they charge 2 dirhams per page. I would be shelling out 30 dirhams for 15 pages. I told him that I needed to call my brother first.
Kuya said that since there was nothing else that could be done, I might as well proceed with photocopying the documents there. I called up Leslie and told her of my predicament. She said it was too expensive and maybe I should just have it photocopied somewhere else. I asked the deadline for the submission. She said she didn't know. I felt my temperature matching the scorching heat of the sun.
Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I lined up at the cashier to pay for the photocopies. I was about to pay when I got a call again. It was my kuya and his wife on conference. They said that I should just go ahead and pay 30 dirhams. I got annoyed and said, "I'm already paying for it!!!"
Now, the photocopying machine is in the nearby main building. There was a small crowd in front of the main door. I asked if this was where I should go for photocopying. The person said I just have to open the door, look for the person-in-charge, hand over my documents and the official receipt and wait for the person to call me back. I was to position myself at the front door to receive my docs and the photocopies.
Realizing that this will take a few minutes, I ran outside the gate to tell Mr. Cab Driver to wait for a few more minutes. He asked how long he should wait. I said 10-15 minutes. He asked about the taxi meter. I said he should not worry because I will pay.
I waited, waited and waited at the front door. The others have already received the documents and new batches of people were joining the crowd. I was getting really, really impatient! I started ticking off the things that I still needed to do before my interview: marinate the porkchops, cook them, cook rice, take a bath, dress up, put on makeup. I was shaking my head in disbelief. Surely all these had to happen on the day of my interview!
Finally, I received my papers but the girl just handed them all to me without fixing them! I rush back to the satellite office and arranged the papers. Someone else was still talking to the guy I talked earlier. I groaned. How much longer will I have to wait?
Fortunately, not for long. I apologized to the guy because I did not have a stapler. The documents were now ready for submission! Now for the form...The guy said that there were many kinds of power-of-attorney forms. Michael did not tell me which one I was supposed to get. I was irked. I told the guy that I would have to make another call to clarify. The form was to be used for a loan. The guy said that for forms, I needed to line up anew. Sensing that I was getting annoyed and harassed already, he just handed me the forms. I smiled and said thank you.
I ran to the cab and apologized to the driver. By then, I was already in a foul mood. I was not going to have enough time to do everything! Anger was already starting to gnaw at my whole being. I tried to distract myself but well, anger got the better of me. One large tear rolled from my left eye. I stubbornly wiped it away. In my mind, I was chanting, "Do not cry in the cab. Do not crryyy in the caaaabbb!". The more I said this, the more I felt like crying. I was arguing with myself. Why was I even very angry? Why was I allowing anger to get to me?
Not finding valid answers, I could not contain myself anymore. I let the tears flow, and with them, all my raging thoughts. Why must I do errands on a very important day? Why do I need to cook for the boys? Why do I feel like I am an errand girl? I cried intermittently from Al Qusais all the way to my home in Bur Dubai. And in between these angry thoughts, I was fretting over how I will look in the interview later that day. Surely, I can't be seen with puffy eyes! I was really upset because everything was all messed up! Instead of focusing my energies on the interview, now I even have to psyche myself to get over that morning's events and let go of my fury.
At this point, the cab driver could not help but ask why I was crying. He asked what happened and if I wanted tissue. I initially declined because I already had my hanky. However, seeing his earnestness to help, I got the two tissues. In a broken voice, I try to explain the sequence of events. Mr. Driver became my sounding board and tried to cheer me up. It was all so surreal. I could not believe that I was making a mess of myself in a cab and he was trying his best to calm me down. "Everything will be all right.", he said. Inshallah, it will.
We arrived soon after. I gave the poor cab driver a tip and apologized for all the drama.
This is my first real crying bout in Dubai. Funny how my first real cry was out of anger and not out of homesickness. Meanwhile, life goes on. It just has to.
