The screens showed which numbers were being interviewed at which windows. S timed them "number 232 has been at window 17 for 15 minutes", she would say. After a wholesome lunch of 2 bags of salt and vinegar crisps we sat and waited. Then we walked around, to stretch our legs. Then we stood and waited, because we didn't have seats any more.
S was trying to see if there were consistent differences between the different windows. That way we would know to hope not to get window 14 (say) because they took longer (or maybe dubious types got called to Window 14). I sat and read through the blurb which Corporation of Future Employment had sent to the US Immigration Service, including the Annual Report. I've never read even half of an Annual Report in my life, but this one wasn't bad, in places. One part of it was about an analysis of invading Iraq and Afghanistan. It said "It was a really fucking stupid idea, and if anyone had thought about it for more than 5 minutes, they would have realised this". Well, OK, it didn't say exactly that, but that was the gist of it. Right wing think tank? Pah!
The numbers got closer to our number (remember we were 296, for maximum drama) - it something like 289, 290, 293, 187, 195, ... 299 [!]. But our number did come up, and we made the long walk to our window (number 17). It turned out, as we walked past the lower numbers, that some windows really were windows, and some were little rooms.
Ours was a window. We went to the window, and had to be re-fingerprinted (this time to make sure that we were the same people that went to the other window). Our forms were checked, and our grilling began.
"How old is D?" (An easy starter). "He's 4, I replied with confidence."
I was expecting trouble at this stage. D's passport has a photo taken when he was 6 months old. His visa photo is obviously of a 4 year old. This could have been any random baby.
"How old is A?" (Aha, trying to lull me into a false sense of security.) "He's 4 too." A and D, for those that don't know are monozygotic (identical - although they aren't actually identical, but they are very, very similar) twins. When I got their passports the first time, I handed over the photos at the Post Office - "That's A and that's D" I told them, purposefully. "No, wait, that's D and that's A", which I thought was very funny, but they didn't. So I didn't try that this time.
"What's your job going to be?" she asked next. I explained, including a bit about teaching, that caused some confusion "Who are you going to be teaching at Corporation of Future Employment?" I explained that, despite not being a university, CFE thinks it's a university, and so has students.
"And are you a nice statistics professor?" Aha, the killer question. "Because I didn't like statistics when I was at college".
"Ooh, yes, I'm very nice."
"Well, my professor was nice, I just didn't like statistics."
That didn't seem like a question, so I stayed quiet.
She clicked a few things on the screen, scribbled on some forms, and said "We'll send your visas in the post."
We walked out, triumphant, but not yet complete. We had to deal with the couriers who actually do the business of sending your visa out. This cost £14.50. I had a slight concern that they would require cash, and another that it would cost that per visa - there being 4 of us, that mean we had to be sure of having enough cash. But they didn't, and it wasn't. They were very efficient - they sent a text message, as promised, the day before the visas were delivered, so that we were warned and could make appropriate arrangements, and they came on Thursday. (We went to the embassy on the Friday, and Monday was a bank holiday, so that was a reasonably impressive turnaround.)
And here, in all its glory, it is:
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