Passports and Mystery Math…

Mallory and I were returning some stuff the other day and as we were leaving I saw that there was no one at all in the photo shop near the store entrance. I’ve been procrastinating about getting my passport; part of my delay being that I have to arrange to get a photo taken, and this small task seems insurmountable in this world of too many things to do with not enough time and one car.

So, seeing an opportunity, I seized it (my mother didn’t raise any stupid children) and went into the photo shop, dragging Mallory behind me. She muttered something about ‘starving to death’ but I was a woman on a mission and the details of life were pushed to the back of my mind.

The time when we entered the shop was 6:20PM. I walked up the counter and asked the price for getting passport photos done, along with the amount of time that it usually takes to complete. The woman told me the price and said ‘I only do them until 6:30’. Ahhhhh….ok, I thought. Let’s go. Her response made no sense to me then, but over the next little bit it started to click in.

She directed me over to the mirror. Foolishly, I thought it was so I could make sure I looked stunning. She had other ideas – ‘here’s some powder’ she said. ‘You have to wipe all that shine off your face…there’s not allowed to be any shine in the picture.’

Oh. Shine. I was dismayed by how much powder I had to apply before Psycho
PhotoShop Woman told me I was in the clear. Mallory, of course, was over in the row of chairs splitting a gut. She announced that my nose looked fake. Great! Who cares? so long as the fake nose has no shine.

Finally we got down to taking the picture. I was all smiles with my fake nose intact…’no smiling’, she said. “They don’t like smiles’. Okie dokie. No smiles, no shine, and a fake nose.

The picture, finally, came out of the little machine. I was, needless to say, relieved. It was pushing 6:30 and the Psycho PhotoShop Woman had made it pretty clear all the way along that she only did this until 6:30. Then, horror of horrors, she pulled the picture out of the little machine and said ‘oh no, this one isn’t any good’. ‘Look at your hair – it’s throwing shadows…shadows aren’t allowed’. Mallory reminded me that ‘your hair is always an issue’. Yes, I know. Really I do.

So, back to the chair, fake nose in place and no smiling. I remove my coat thinking that the collar might be making the light bounce off my hair. Psycho Photo Shop Woman thought that was a great idea. She spends precious minutes looking into the camera at me, with a concerned look on her face, then she put the camera down, and started pressing on the sides of her head like she was experiencing a great deal of pain.

“Could you maybe push in the sides of your hair like this?” she said, and continued to demonstrate. “Maybe if you pull it down some too it won’t be so much in the way”. Oh my good grief. Had I not already paid, I’m pretty sure I would have left. But, I did need the photo, and I had paid, so I started mashing my hair down, and pushing in on the sides of my head as though I was having a hemorrhage or had won the lotto. Mallory is laughing silently…I just want to go home.

At long last, an acceptable picture… no smiles, no shine, no shadows, and mashed down hair… and, apparently, acceptable to the government of Canada. All I know is this: it wants to be. I didn’t look like an alien when I arrived but Psycho Photo Shop Woman made sure that mission was accomplished. I’ll be embarrassed to show the picture at the border, if I ever do follow through on the passport process.

I was going to write something about my second bass lesson – hence the name Mystery Math, but this is getting long so I’ll write that one soon.

Stay tuned… and remember, if you can’t have what you want, then want what you have.

Helen