Working permit

We had to go to the police station to obtain our working permit, me and 3 tour leaders.
We already had collected some paperwork: a bank account with 315 euro, a copy of our health insurance, a prove of our respective hotels that we are living there. Somebody else had already paid some taxes on our behalf and we also had the proof of that.
But many people ask for a working permit and there are long queues.
Therefore one of our colleagues had to go to the police station at 4 o’clock in the morning, write our names on "a" list and than wait in front of the door.
I didn’t know if I had to think of the long waiting queues at the refugee centres in Belgium or the parents camping in front of the school to enrol their kids in the Kindergarten.
When our colleague Sammy arrived there was already a list with 64 names so we became respectively nr. 65, 66, 67 and 68.
And then suddenly a certain "Christian" came, also he wanted to obtain a working permit. He called out the names of the list. Those who were not present, their names were cancelled. So we moved upwards with more than 20 places to places 41 to 44.
7:30 in the hotel, our Team Manager Miro picks us up to drop us at the police station. There is really a lot of people. Sammy is happy to see us, now he can go home, have a shower, take breakfast and come back. Plenty of time, the police station opens only at 10:00. And still more people coming…
Sammy comes back with a big white sheet so we make it ourselves comfortable on the grass. And as we are bored, some discussions start…
“This is so indecent, so poorly organised.” I am still thinking of the refugee centres and camping parents…
“And why do we need a working permit, we are Europeans!”.
I react: “Why shouldn't we? We are as foreigner here as Montenegrins are in Belgium. All countries require working permits for every foureigner.”
We keep an eye on the door, regularly people go in, regularly people come out. But nobody calls out our names.
It is about midday when we realise they are cheating us: “Those foreigners do not understand anything, so let them wait…”. Suddenly somebody takes it for us, with result. At about 12:20 Karen and Sammy are allowed to go in, Els and me, we still have to wait outside. But 10 minutes later they allow us inside.
And also inside the office there is a queue. And only 2 windows open. It takes about 7 minutes for one dossier, you can calculate how fast it goes…
Suddenly one of the clerks says: “You can all go out, we stop working at 13:00h.” At least we think she said, as a murmur starts and there is some movement in the group.
The lady behind me is pushing me in my back. I kindly ask her to keep some distance. Her answer is, according to the reaction of the surrounding people, not so very kind but I don’t understand it.
When the lady at the counter once again says that she will close at 13:00, some people leave, including the pushing lady.
We still wait: only one person in front of us. We agree we will say that we are together, the four of us. Would she then take our dossiers together?
Suddenly the “pushing lady” is back, but now she is attacking Els. Els is not as calm as I am and fights back.
In the meantime the man in front of us has gone, Karen gives her dossier to the lady at the counter. She opens it, starts to look into the papers and takes out one of them, saying: “I need this in Montenegrin”. Karen doesn’t understand. I look to what she is holding in her hand, take out my paper of the hotel where I live and show it to her: “Is it this what you mean?”
She takes over the paper, examines it and asks: “Who is Ilse Vandek…”?
“That’s me!”, I answer and I hand over my whole dossier. She gives Karen’s dossier back, accepts mine and starts working on it. After approx 7 minutes I get my passport back and she says: “Take a picture, there!”.
I do not know what to do exactly. Somebody helps me: "Go in there, they will take a picture of you."
I enter, another lady takes a digital picture, takes digital finger prints and a digital signature. “On 23rd of July you can pick up your working permit!”.
Amazing, I hardly can believe that everything is ok!
I join the others: because of that one paper the hotel they live in has made up in English, they have to come back tomorrow. Starting all over again: wake up at 4 o’clock, put the names on the list, wait in front of the police station’s door, queue up…
They are grumbling:” This is unacceptable! They DO understand English. Why couldn’t they accept the paper in English then?”
I reflect: how would it be in a Belgian police office if you give in a paper in another language. We in Belgium have the most difficult language laws on earth…
But I don’t say anything…