I am so bummed! I mean I feel like a really missed my calling! I should have been a thief.
I have learned about some of my very interesting hidden talents since moving to Uruguay. One of which is my inability to be finger printed. Everyday we have to clock in and out of the school. There is a little machine by the reception desk. You simply put in your chosen finger and your print indicates that you were actually at school. The little box either give you a check or an x depending on if your prints were read properly. This sultry voice comes on and amorously tells you “thank you,” or in my case “please try again.” This little box was the bane of my existence for the first two weeks of school. There were days I had to “please try again” so many times that I ended up giving up and texting our HR person, Julie that I had arrived or was leaving and the time. People would line up behind me and groan knowing that I was going to be at the hateful little box for at least a minute trying to get my fingerprints to read. Finally, I got so fed up with the thing and poor Julie got fed with all of my texts that she ended up giving me a code and password.
I thought all was well, until I went to immigration to finalize my ID card for Uruguay called the cedula. This is the next step towards becoming a permanent resident. I got through all of the questions just fine. Explaining my mother’s full maiden name was interesting. You think Kimberly Caitlin Coyle is tough for Uruguayans, try Sanda Edwina Short. At least my father’s Edward Michael kind of translates.
Then along came the fingerprint part. This poor woman in charge of my case pressed, lubricated, dried, rolled, and lubricated my fingers some more until we were both wildly exhausted and frustrated (euphemism? Maybe. Hehe #mindofaninthgrader). And I still was only able to produce partial prints. So off I went to the ink station. They were hoping that old-fashioned ink would make my prints stand out a bit more. NOPE! Same problem. No matter how many times the poor girl rolled my finger across the ink pad, the result was the same. And I had Meet the Teacher Night that night, which meant I had to scramble back to school from downtown looking like I had just been fingerprinted. Great first impression!
So I reiterate…I should have been a thief. I would never have to wear gloves because even if they caught me, they would never be able to get a full print.
Despite my fingerprint disability, I was still able to get my cedula. So I am official! One step closer to becoming a permanent resident and being able to buy weed in the pharmacies. Never mind. You need fingerprints for that as well.