Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Today we went to the Ministry of Employment to sort out our passes for Singapore. I thought this would be a simple and efficient process. And so it was, apart from when the building tried to eat my wife.

I'm not at my best before a cup of coffee in the morning, and the pair of us spent ten minutes milling around the outside of the building before locating the entrance. Which we'd just walked past.

That should have been a sign for caution, but we ignored it. My wife walked forward, the automatic doors opened ... and then closed before she'd got through. Jammed between two panes of glass that were trying to nomnomnom her, she squawked and struggled but couldn't free herself, until I stood in front of the sensor and the doors opened again. Naughty building!

We took the lift to the fourth floor. Well, we took the lift to the third floor and got out, then got back in again. Did I suggest already how stunned we were?
Getting the passes was incredibly quick, and involved a woman stapling things together, and occasionally scolding me because my HR lady had failed to write her name on one of twenty pages. There were an awful lot of staples.

After they scan in the photos you provide, and then run a process over them that drains all the life from your face and replaces it with abject misery and acne, they take your thumbprints. My hands were too dry to get a good scan, so she produced a bottle of lotion and told me to rub it in.

Had we just parachuted into a remake of The Silence Of The Lambs, where Buffalo Bill was a middle aged woman telling me I was going to 'rub the lotion in, or else I'd get the hose again'? If I end up being turned into a skin suit, you read it here first.

We scarpered, and I went to the office, where I managed to slam my head inside a cupboard. What with minor door mishaps and comedy lotion references, I was quite prepared to either catch fire, or have a grand piano land on my head on the way home, but fortunately I just lost my peripheral vision via a pre-migraine aura, and spent the evening lying on the bed in the hotel room, groaning quietly.


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