Eff you Italian Consulate.

My ma, whose passion for customer service twice exceeds mine, came home today with a funny story...

Ma:  "So I called the Italian Consulate to get your sister that work visa today."
Me:  "Okay."


What? I was eating. Give me a break.



Ma:  "It cost me $3 a minute."
Me: (bar-b-que chicken falls out of mouth) ... (long pause) ... (puzzled look)

Ma:  "I called the Italian Consulate today.  It's an 800 number.  In order to get a student visa in Italy, you have to call the Consulate to make an appointment.  When you call, they ask for your credit card number, because it costs $3 a minute to be on the phone with them."
Me:  "Wait, so it costs $3 a minute to make an appointment?"

Ma:  "Yes.  The funny part was, I got charged for a minute while they waited for my credit card to be approved."
Me:  "Where is the Consulate?"

Ma:  "In Chicago."  (we live in Chicago)


Lesson learned.  If you're looking to speak to the Italian Consulate, send a postcard.  Bastards.