The Darnedest Things

I was sitting outside the Service Canada Office in my home city the other day, waiting for it to open at some ungodly hour of the morning. My wife had to do a check-in on some government stuff and I was along for the ride. As the time for opening approached, activity could be noted on the other side of the glass windows and doors. When the clock finally struck the appropriate hour, two elderly and confused-looking Commissionaires opened the front doors for business and immediately transformed themselves into controlling, yet bumbling buffoons. They began directing the small sprinkling of clients, who were already waiting to speak to an agent, into various line-ups on either side of the entrance door. One line-up was for those who had previously booked and appointment. Another line-up was forming, which oddly enough, was not for those who HADN'T booked an appointment but rather, for those who did not need help with passport issues. The ‘passport’ line was eventually assimilated into the 'appointment line-up' and finally sent to a third queue which hovered around a nearby bench and which had a seemingly non-descript purpose. When we first arrived outside the office, fifteen minutes before that, we were second in line to enter the door. When all was said and done, we ended up first in line on the most-recently-formed 'non-appointment' side of the door. The family that was first in line prior to opening, was now last in line on the 'appointment' side of the door, even though they had no appointment. It was ultimately discerned by the smarter of the two Commissionaires, that this family should leave and come back at another time when the office was not as busy. Just a note on that one – there were still just seven people/groups in line in total. The problem, as far as I could tell, was that there were now four separate lines. The male of the Commissionaire species seemed visibly shaken at this point. Beads of perspiration began to emerge from between the furrows of his twitching brow. His attempts to appear as if he were in control of the situation, did not fool even the small immigrant children tugging on parent coat tails. At last he threw his hands in the air, muttered in deep frustration and went inside the office. He plopped himself down on his chair and, while drumming his fingers on his little desk, he stared off into space for several minutes. The female Commissionaire seemed a little perplexed with her partner in crime. However, in his absence, she seemed to muster some degree of coherence and clarity. As a result of her efforts, the individuals and groups in line soon became prepared to finally make their way into the office with a small semblance of order. Once inside the office they were directed to a 'common' line which merged all of the outside lines into one. This line led to a kiosk where it was discerned what the true purpose of their visit was. Each individual/group/family was then distributed to a large unified marshalling area where they could wait for one of the two working agents to become available to offer assistance to anyone with any query (appointment or not / passport or not).

I thought myself to be extremely fortunate that I did not have to visit a Service Canada Agent. I was able to sit back and enjoy the whole show from start to finish. I could not help but wonder though, what a newcomer to Canada must make of the confusion and disorder caused by the Commissionaires in charge of getting clients into the office. Would they think that this is what Canada is like? Would they then think twice about actually living in this country? I have travelled all over the world. I have dealt with immigration officials in at least 20 different nations. I have had to obtain visas and visa extensions in at least a dozen countries. I have had to renew my passport in two or three countries. There have been military-like officials in China and most South-East Asian countries, scary officious types in Australia and America. Most were young and strong and with side-arms displayed on their hips in case anyone forgot that they meant business. It seemed strange to me, that Canada would be represented by, and under the control of two thirds of some slapstick comedy team.

I also wondered what would happen if a group of Russian military officials were to witness the song and dance used to entertain the early-morning crowd outside this Service Canada office. They may just decide to send a message back to the motherland, advising that troops quickly pull out of Ukraine and divert their invasive attention to Canada. I am sure that they would look at the utter confusion caused by these government officials and then go on to contemplate that an overtaking of Canada would be a relatively easy task . . . and, the beat goes on.