Angels galore

The scenic location of the HSBC building on the Auckland waterfront was lost on me.  I usually enjoy the sight of the old ferry building looking so staid and solid amongst all the high-rises.

My memory was having a good day, I remembered the Australian Consulate is on the 7th floor.  I was hoping it was the 7th floor of their current location and not the previous one.

Going up the escalator to the foyer I passed this colourful hanging artwork.  

 photo by Tiffany Singh

Had I stopped and asked for directions from the concierge I probably wouldn't have got past that point.  It didn't even enter my mind.  Somehow I knew when I'd reached the lifts but what had the shape of lift doors appeared to be more artworks.  Artworks that matched the hanging installation.  And there were no lift buttons near them.  So there I am, not even realising I'm doing my bewildered old lady act again, trying to admire these artworks whilst thinking nah, too much for me, don't like them and another female voice asks what floor I'm going to, and wouldn't you know it, she's going to the same floor and says, "Come with me."  And as if my magic, one of the artworks parts and reveals itself to indeed be a lift.  My new guardian angel explains how the lifts work, seems awfully complicated to me.

When we get out of the lift (another minor miracle she works on the same floor) and she learns I'm visiting the Australian Consulate and have no appointment she tells me I have no chance of getting in there, their security is "next level" and no-one gets in there without an appointment.  That is news to me.  I think I've followed the directions on the webpage and have come to lodge my passport renewal application in person as it says.  And anyway, I've tried for three days to ring hoping it was possible to arrange to post my application and each time after holding for over an hour a voice tells me they are unable to service my call today.  I might add that their on hold music has almost robbed me of the wish to proceed with my application.

Anyway...the consulate office is through glass doors off to our right and a large (very large) and rather surly looking security guard can be seen on the other side.  I tell my angel I'm going to bang on the doors until he looks up and sees me and she becomes quite agitated and beseeches me not to set off the security alarms.  What's left of my common sense comes to my rescue.  I stand in front of glass doors and wave my arms in the air instead.  My angel, still by my side,  is a bit disturbed by this.  What did she think might happen?

The guard hauls himself to his feet, scowling, comes over and presses the button to open the doors and my angel starts to beg for my entry.  I think she has underestimated me, I've still got it when it comes to talking.  Eventually the guard gives up explaining there's no admission without an appointment, says he will see if he can find someone to interview me, my angel says she will wait for me to take me back down in the lift again.  And the guard - did I say he was surly? my mistake - puts an arm on my shoulder and tells her he will take care of me.  And that he did.  A very nice lady came from somewhere in the depths of the building to take care of my application.  And when I was ready to leave the guard escorted me back down in the lift.  It did dawn on me that maybe he just wanted to make sure I was gone.

But the thing is.  I keep thinking about those lovely people who helped me.  Where have they all been in the past when I've been lost?   No-one rushed to my aid when I was in Thessaloniki airport in Greece trying to understand the announcements, hoping like hell I was lining up for the right flight.  Or when I was trying to get a flight attendant to understand me in Uruguay. 

Do I really look that old and helpless now?

 

Here's my passport photo, taken the day before my expediation.  I think I look more like someone who shouldn't be messed with.  And it would take a brave person to tell her she shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition.