This time I'm writing about someone else's passport photo.
I was in line at a suburban NZ PostShop. All I wanted to do was post a parcel but the line was very (very) long. Of course there were only two tellers, one of whom was tasked to take a passport photo for a young woman of about twenty. All of us in line had nothing better to occupy our time, so we watched the goings-on.
A long narrow white screen slowly rolled down from the ceiling. Hey, neat. Does new technology know no boundaries?
"Stand in front of the screen please?
The young woman obeyed. This attractive customer looked as if she had never had a bad photograph taken of her in her life.
"A bit more to the right?" sing-songed the teller.
The young woman shuffled over to the side.
"Maybe back to the left, just a bit?
Duly noted, and done.
"Could you raise your head? Not that high. Down a bit. Could you pin your stray hair back?"
The young woman changed position to fish in her topknot for a hairpin. The orders - an even longer list than before - rat-tatt-tatted out all over again. Finally ...
"Step back please - "
Snap! The camera clicked. It clicked again.
The young woman peered over the counter as far as the restrictive security panel would allow her to look into the computer screen. Oh dear, something was wrong. . NZ PostShop woman tut-tutted. "I'll try again. Back to the wall please.""
The rigmorale rolled out once more. More rejected photos. And then a third attempt-
Step forward please. No, back! No, forward-"
A guy behind me in line muttered, "Now raise your leg-"
"-wave your arm," another person chortled.
"Do the hokey-pokey," called out someone else.
The young woman and the teller peered at the photos. Apparently, they were not going to be good enough for the passport people. The red-faced customer exited the PostShop having been told to try the chemist around the corner.
Poor woman. I've been there, I've done that. But, thank goodness, not in public.
Here's the main street in Kilbirnie, Wellington.