Another trip to the “Regiokantoor” (Regional Office).
Here’s what I needed to gather this time:
- My declaration from the driving bureau
- The letter from the tax office saying I was getting the 30% ruling
- The letter form my company that they sent to the tax office explaining how special I am and requesting the 30% ruling.
- Two passport pictures
- My residence card
Unfortunately, I got the same lady as last time. She looked at my papers and said, “You need to provide the originals.”
“I can’t. My company has to keep the originals for their records for the tax agency. They called to confirm this.”
(Much sighing and eyebrow raising and leaning back in the chair.)
“You must provide the originals.”
“Listen, I would if I could, but I can’t. There are originals. You saw them two days ago. They exist. These are copies of them. I can’t give you the originals. Can’t we just get on to the next step.”
“I have to consult with my colleague.”
Eventually the colleague (the smart guy I spoke to the first time) came by. He recognized me, made one more attempt to ask for the originals. I explained I would if I could but my company has to keep them, can we please just try to move forward and see what happens?
“Okay. We try.”
Finally. Thank you Solomon for solving this imponderable Gordian knot of conflicting bureacracies. Unfortunately, no bureaucracy likes to be shown the limit of its power, and I suffered a little for this minor victory: from there on the woman only spoke Dutch to me, forcing me to ask her, each time she spoke, to speak in English.
The papers are in the mail. I will receive either a license or a letter explaining why I should fuck off. I predict it will come down to a decision of some minor bureaucrat who will have to decide if he wants the pleasure of using the big red “Rejected” stamp, or the aggravation of having to deal with the paperwork again when it comes back.
I put it 60/40 on the red stamp.
You know they engineer those things to have handles like phalluses for a reason.