My Interview Experience

[Slade&Natasha 7]

Going into the interview I wasn’t nervous at all, more like anxious to finally get it over with. My 4 year old was with me thus my husband and I had decided it would be best if munchkin and I took a taxi to the embassy. Pulling up to the building, I wasn’t surprised to see the usual non-immigrant visa queue stretching down the street. I scooped up my daughter, placing her on my hip and struggled to walk up to the embassy as we were totally laden with documents.

The people in the non-immigrant queue were howling and screaming ‘get into the queue!’ at me; I ignored them completely, walking around them to talk to the guard. Upon stepping through the little gate that leads to the guard’s post to wait for him to emerge, the man at the head of the non-immigrant queue reached for my elbow. I instinctively swung my kid away from him and onto my other arm, as he angrily questioned ‘Woman! And where do you think you're going?!’

‘Clearly, not where you are!’ I curtly responded and moved in closer to the guard’s post. Fortunately the guard stepped out at that time or things could have become really awkward. I offered up our passports and appointment confirmation, explained that we were there for an 8am immigrant visa interview. He ignored the confirmation, took the passports and went back into the guard shack. About 30 seconds later, he emerged again and directed us to the embassy door. So, child in tow or not, my advice is to ignore the howls and screams, and proceed directly to the guard shack.

After turning off my phone and checking it with security, we next queued at the security check, which in all actuality, I think we could have cut as well (privileges of having a kid in tow). But we weren’t in any particular hurry and it was moving at a rather fast pace, so I figured there was no sense in jumping the queue.

Proceeding into the embassy, I decided to ask for some directions because I couldn't see any signs pointing us the Immigrant Visa section (straight, left, left again). We did find some, when we were half way there, and once arriving in the right place, looking around, I saw a few people, restrooms at the back of the room, some photos of happy families. Both windows were closed, although it was already 8am.

I was surprised when around 8:15, two very cold, clearly aggressive women sat down behind the windows. They were Russian, middle-aged, and from the moment I heard them talking to each other, quite obviously dissatisfied with life. They called out our surnames and gave relatively clear instructions on what to do next. Now, I wish I had simply remained cool for the next few stages, but I was completely unfamiliar with their internal procedures, and they were completely unforgiving of my unfamiliarity!

First I had to pay for our applications at the cashier window – $404 each. I paid in rubles, but I think they accept dollars too. I'd recommend having the exact sum on you because (just like every other point of sale in Russia) they don’t keep much change. I was lucky that a woman in line could break a bill for me.

As soon as we were done at the cashier window, we returned to our seats. Contrary to what some had reported here about people with kids being cut some slack and getting to go first, we had to wait our turn. Finally our time came and we approached the window, my daughter already quite restless and loud, though still behaving well.

The brunette clerk on the other side of the window coldly demanded my documents one-by-one. I could see the list she was referencing, but rather than asking for the documents in the order listed, there was no logic to the order she was asking the documents in. My documents were already ordered by the list on the website, and this arbitrary order forced to dig for each one she requested. When we got to tax returns, she wanted 2010, but I had 3 years on hand and I made the mistake of asking if she needed just 2010 or if I should get the others ready too.

“Do you have a hearing problem?!” she hissed.

Her rudeness caught me off-guard. Not that I'm sensitive, having lived in Moscow for so long and whatnot, but they must be aware that what they say is quite muffled behind the glass, not to mention it was loud on my side… but whatever.

She continued, “What were you doing before we opened the windows? You should have gone through all your documents and had them in proper order, ready for me!”

As politely as I could manage, I replied “I have everything with me, if you’ll just give me a moment. As you can see, I’ve got two of these big stacks and want to make sure I give you the right documents.”

Flipping through the stack, I located the 2010 tax return, extricated the 45 pages of it from the rest, and calmly handed it to her.

Hardly missing a beat, she barked “Marriage certificate!”

I slid it under the window, and not even glancing at it, she lopped the stack of documents on top of it before barking again “Translation of your marriage certificate!”

“Uhm..” I said, confused.

“Give me the translation of your marriage certificate! You don’t have it?! These are things you go over on the sofa with your husband in the evening before the interview, so you don’t come here unprepared!”

Mustering all the self-control I could to keep my eyes from rolling and my middle finger from extending, I responded: “Look.. I did go over all of this with my husband last night, albeit it wasn’t on the sofa, it was in our kitchen, actually. And if take a look my marriage certificate, you’ll see that I got married in San Francisco. Being it’s already in English, are you saying I need it translated into Russian?”

I thought I detected a snort as she furiously flicked through the document stack, even more anger building up in her face. Meanwhile my daughter was pulling on my hand, signaling a rather pressing need to “powder her nose”. I took a deep breath and attempted to maintain my composure as the document collection process continued in much the same manner. At the conclusion, she directed me to another window where I was to be fingerprinted. But after making my way to the opposite side of the hall, preschooler on hip, I discovered it was closed. I returned to Ms Congeniality, who insisted I go back to the window for fingerprinting. I did, and discovered – no surprise – that it was still closed. I could sense my daughter’s nerves on the rise, as she could no doubt see her mum’s frustration building. That, and the fact that she hadn’t had a chance to use the restroom in the past two hours. Upon seeing us return a second time, Ms. Congeniality said: “I told you to go to that window! Don’t you understand?!”

I put my daughter down, moved closer to the window and said “IT. IS. CLOSED.”

She grabbed the phone and angrily punched a number in, apparently to no avail.

“Fine, then go to this window!” as she slid a paper to me

I scooped up my daughter again, and headed to this other window which - as it turned out - is located practically on the other side of the building. There, I got fingerprinted by a nice American lady who couldn’t stop smiling at my daughter. We returned to Ms. Congeniality, optimistic that we were one step further towards our visas. Unfortunately, upon our return she said that the fingerprints didn’t go through, and that we’d need to go back. I fought the urge to sigh, picked my 18kg kid up again, and went back to the fingerprinting station. This time the fingerprinting was successful and the American woman was actually very apologetic.

For the umpteenth time we returned to Ms. Congeniality, and must admit that at this point I was terrified about what else could go wrong with the rest of my interview. She gave me a hard time for not filling out an appointment application for my 4 year old, and refused to admit that there was no such option on the website; all I could do was add my daughter as a ‘+1’. Furthermore, she scolded me for not filling out a separate Pony Express slip for her and then insisted I do it on the spot (which in turn screwed me over later – just how, you’ll find out below). She sent me to the non-immigrant section (crazy, right?) in order for the woman handing out appointment numbers for all the non-immigrants to write in the Pony Express office address on there, even though I had it on me, in my appointment application. It was such a pointless thing to be forced to do, that the woman in the non-immigrant window couldn’t even understand why I was there. Problem was that I couldn’t explain it either, except that possibly Ms. Congeniality was relishing in her ability to redirect her anger and exercise some authority. Much could be understandable, but not when it involves an innocent 4 year old, up since 6am, hungry, thirsty and in urgent need of a bathroom.

There are no words to describe the relief I felt when Ms. Congeniality finally told me to sit down again and wait for an interview. I quickly inferred the interview was to be given by an American, because I could see foreign-looking people in the background preparing to sit down at those very windows. Ironically, the interview itself was a breeze – the female officer was lovely and very polite. She asked me very basic questions at first, but soon realized I speak English quite well. At that point, she switched into a slightly different tone of voice, more like a conversation, I'd say. I mentioned that I currently live with my husband (we used DCF, as he’d been living and working in Moscow for almost ten years), to which she asked if we had lived together before getting married. I replied that yes, we had been living together since May of last year, and could show her our lease agreement if she wanted. She smiled and said there was no need at all and that we were “just talking” for now and she'd let me know if she needed any documents from me. This put me at ease even more and I suddenly wished I hadn’t stressed so much at the beginning of it all, when Ms. Congeniality was making me run the obstacle course. Clearly, the inferiority-complex-ridden Russians are there to simply go through document check-lists, and whether their American managers are aware of it or not, jump at any opportunity to give the applicants a hard time. So, should anyone come across this - keep your cool, you'll be done with this stage quicker than you know.

Back to the interview… I was asked if I’d met any of my husband’s family and if we were flying into Texas, as that was the address which we had put onto the application. I explained briefly whom I’d met and that the address is actually my husband’s parents’ home address. It’s the only official address he had in the States since he owned no property there. We made chit-chat about the small town where my husband’s parents live and I said I didn’t really get to see much of it because we were driving up to a lake-house where they usually stay that time of year. But that I did get to go to an awesome outlet mall nearby whilst on the way there. We reminisced about food in the States and she told me I needn’t miss it so much because she was approving my application! During all this, my daughter was totally hamming it up (as she often does with new people she meets) and the officer complemented her on how cute she is. I explained that we had a trip coming up the next week (to Korea for a wedding) and I really needed my passport back ASAP. She told me I needn’t worry and was certain I’d have everything back in time. With that, I thanked her, smiled and my daughter waved goodbye to her.

Little did I know.. my adventures didn’t quite end there.

I ended up having my passport delivered unexpectedly by an impatient Pony Express courier to my home address, although I had clearly marked ‘pick up’ in my appointment application. I ripped open the package and saw my passport there at the bottom, along with a thick, sealed manila envelope, but no sign of my daughter’s passport. Nervous, and fearing it had been lost somewhere, I asked him about it, saying I was expecting two passports and continue to poke around the cardboard envelope in search for it.

“I don’t know! Open the other envelope, it’s probably there.” he said to me, clearly irritated and frustrated by the fact that I was asking any question at all.

I had been having a killer week – oral surgery, antibiotics, sleep deprivation, illness, a cranky kid, an impending move, an irate landlord, and last but not least, anxiety about receiving my passport in time for our (non-refundable) trip to Korea. Not thinking, I took the courier’s instruction, and ripped open the manila envelope. I didn’t see a passport, and so set it aside. I got a call from a Pony Express courier later that evening, telling me that she cannot leave the package at the office and needs to deliver it to me (I had clearly marked ‘pick up’, not delivery on all the documents!!).

I didn’t realize my heinous mistake until later that evening. I wasted no time, and getting basically no sleep at all due to all the nerves, I went back to the embassy the next morning at 7:30am and managed to quickly work my way through all the various security checkpoints. First, I spoke with the guy at guard shack outside, briefly explaining what happened, and I got the go-ahead from him to continue on. The woman inside was less understanding but I still managed to convince her to give me a chance to talk to someone – she made a phone call and in summary explained what I had just told her. She told me she had to wait for a call back that would determine whether or not she could let me in. It was the longest couple of minutes of my life I tell you, but finally the phone rang and all I heard her say in response was “Okay, no.. I’m not sure, got it, no.. okay.”

She then looked at me, gave me a surprisingly warm smile and signaled it’s okay for me to walk through. As fast as I could, I worked my way to the Immigrant Visa section, briefly patted myself on the back for even getting to that point with zero documentation, but reminded myself that still, the plan was to get ahold of the same woman who interviewed me last time. That if I had to face Ms. Congeniality or any of her kind, at best they’d make me beg for it, at worst, they’d send me all the way back to square one.

The moment I saw my officer walking into the door, (I had remembered what time she went in last time, which is why I was there so early).. I ran up to her, introduced myself again and said that although she probably doesn’t remember me, I was at an interview with her last week and I was hoping she could help me. She replied that “of course I remember you” and let me continue. I explained that something terrible had happened, that I made an embarrassing and stupid mistake and explained exactly how it happened. She nodded sympathetically and told me I needn’t panic at all, that there was no need to be upset, that it was an honest mistake and it actually happens all the time. She explained to me that she’ll take the package upstairs, will have her colleagues look at the documents, reseal it, and return it within a few minutes. I thanked her over and over again, profusely apologizing for what happened, but she just smiled and said that everything would be okay.

As it turned out, I got it back about 20 minutes later from guess who… Ms. Congeniality! When she first sat down at the window, it was obvious she recognized me instantly, though confused why I was there. She was going through the same identical process she had been going through last week, when in the midst of it, another woman came up to her, and said something quickly. Ms. Congeniality knitted her brow and shook her head, took a familiar manila envelope out of her hands, and shooting me a look of putrid disdain, broadcast my surname over the PA system. As I walked up to her window, she chucked the resealed package at me and didn’t say anything more. I ran out of the embassy as quick as my feet would carry me, almost forgetting my mobile phone in absolute disbelief of the luck I’d had. That concluded my experience with the Moscow Consulate, though I must say my move-related adventures didn’t quite end there. But that’s another story, for a different kind of forum!

[james&olya 1,121]

I wonder if my Olga had to deal with this same rude woman! She had normal US currency with her to pay the fees but was told by someone that she had to have 'russian' dollars or rubles, 'american' dollars could not be accepted! Olga had to leave, go to a nearby bank and exchange the dollars with a substantial penalty and return. She had to use all of their spare cash to make up the difference and didn't have money left for buying food for herself and the two kids. I had wondered about her story and couldn't understand how something like that could have happened but your account of this woman's nastiness and hostility might explain it!

[AmyWrites 593]

#######, this is kinda scaring me, I hope to start the DCF process soon! But hey you got the visa and that's all that matters in the end so congrats, and thanks for the very very informative post. How long did this process take for you? 4 months?

Edited March 5, 2012 by AmyWrites

[Slade&Natasha 7]

How long did this process take for you? 4 months?

One month.

[AmyWrites 593]

One month.

Yeah, I saw, read wrong first

[Slade&Natasha 7]

I wonder if my Olga had to deal with this same rude woman! She had normal US currency with her to pay the fees but was told by someone that she had to have 'russian' dollars or rubles, 'american' dollars could not be accepted! Olga had to leave, go to a nearby bank and exchange the dollars with a substantial penalty and return. She had to use all of their spare cash to make up the difference and didn't have money left for buying food for herself and the two kids. I had wondered about her story and couldn't understand how something like that could have happened but your account of this woman's nastiness and hostility might explain it!

Well, the cashier was actually very polite - just unable to give me change because their till was empty in the morning, she even checked her own purse to see if she could break my big bill, but no luck, so we had to ask people in line. I'm very certain that they were accepting dollars at the time (saw people pay in 'em), as for the 'Russian dollars', I'm not sure I understand that.. I didn't see anyone having any issue with paying in dollars but then again, don't quote me on that because I wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on around me, too focused on my own thing. The nasty woman who was collecting documents is in no way related to the cashier you go to when paying though, I'm certain of that.

[james&olya 1,121]

Well, the cashier was actually very polite - just unable to give me change because their till was empty in the morning, she even checked her own purse to see if she could break my big bill, but no luck, so we had to ask people in line. I'm very certain that they were accepting dollars at the time (saw people pay in 'em), as for the 'Russian dollars', I'm not sure I understand that.. I didn't see anyone having any issue with paying in dollars but then again, don't quote me on that because I wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on around me, too focused on my own thing. The nasty woman who was collecting documents is in no way related to the cashier you go to when paying though, I'm certain of that.

But the impression I got from Olya at the time was that she was informed BEFORE she went to pay that she had to have 'russian dollars' or rubles. I have tried to figure out what could possibly have been meant by 'russian dollars' but nobody seems to know! Hearing your story about someone actively trying to make people miserable there is the first possible explanation that begins to make sense! I will ask her more about this now and see who it was that informed her of this 'requirement'. At the time it was a very upsetting thing for Olga but we had even more stressful things to deal with just after her arrival here with her 2 y/o daughter developing seizures!

[slim 1,525]

Holy cow! What a write up. Thanks for sharing.

[sea-monkey 13]

Don't think you'll escape this behavior once you're an American. The DMV is full of these people Other govt agencies also.

[Slade&Natasha 7]

But the impression I got from Olya at the time was that she was informed BEFORE she went to pay that she had to have 'russian dollars' or rubles. I have tried to figure out what could possibly have been meant by 'russian dollars' but nobody seems to know! Hearing your story about someone actively trying to make people miserable there is the first possible explanation that begins to make sense! I will ask her more about this now and see who it was that informed her of this 'requirement'. At the time it was a very upsetting thing for Olga but we had even more stressful things to deal with just after her arrival here with her 2 y/o daughter developing seizures!

You've got me curious now! I cannot possibly fathom what she could have meant either - but I do agree with that part, there are people out to make others quite miserable there. Sorry she had to deal with that, but something tells me she wasn't the first and I definitely wasn't the last, I do hope it will improve though

[Slade&Natasha 7]

Don't think you'll escape this behavior once you're an American. The DMV is full of these people Other govt agencies also.

It's hardly my first time living abroad, I've met all sorts of people and animals, but thanks for the heads up.

[Bad_Daddy 2,209]

US embassy workers are some of the worst imo. They were rude jerks in Minsk, and no better in Warsaw. How these people keep their jobs is beyond me.

[Slade&Natasha 7]

US embassy workers are some of the worst imo. They were rude jerks in Minsk, and no better in Warsaw. How these people keep their jobs is beyond me.

My guess is that by the time people are actually done with dealing with them, they're just not bothered enough to pursue reporting them or their behaviour, ya know, too happy at the fact that everything is finally over. Besides, fact of the matter is - one bitchy worker leaves, another comes to take their place. All they ever do is stare at papers and people who are going off to have better lives than they currently have (presumably), so they're somewhat envious, I guess.. thus they jump at any chance they get to exercise some so called authority

[Tanya and Barry 59]

Don't think you'll escape this behavior once you're an American. The DMV is full of these people Other govt agencies also.

Or a McDonald's in any 'diverse' city...No "May I help you?" Just a "yeah."

[Tanya and Barry 59]

Thanks OP. That was an interesting read...