Who needs rude public servant receptionists where there is Cindy?

After sitting in traffic for well over an hour, I walked to the National Printing Corporation to purchase two passport forms  at two bucks a piece. I have no idea why the forms were not available at the immigration office. As for the receptionist at the NPC, when I handed her all the money I had, a hundred dollar bill, she rudely demanded I get “smaller money from the vendors or something”. My annoyance was similar to how I felt last month when the electoral department sent me over to the NIC building to get a one-page letter whose main message was: “This letter should be presented to the Electoral Department.”  

After debating that it should never have been my responsibility in the first place, I still had to find $4 for the previously mentioned forms, so I decided to get my passport-sized photos first. Not many options were available at 8 a.m. so I walked towards a sidewalk sign that said: “Passport photos done here.” I quickly realized the sign wasn’t standing in front of a door; there was only a stool and a table. The outdoorsy studio uses Voyager’s dusty blue wall on Laborie Street as the photo backdrop.

Cindy Alcindor was the photographer. She briefly scanned my clothes, hair and earrings and asked me to sit on the little stool. “Take off your glasses, look at me and tilt your head slightly to the left,” she instructed with occasional doses of “darling” thrown in. She showed me the result and asked me if I was satisfied. Before I could respond, she said: “Don’t worry, I’ll fix your hair for you.” She picked up her laptop and soon my usually uncontrollable hair was passport symmetrical.

I explained to Cindy that I had to go to the NPC to buy some forms and then I’d be back for the pictures. But she’d already figured it all out. About seven years ago she had set up her business on a sidewalk adjacent to Constitution Park where the grey-haired Justices of the Peace were on hand, so that it would be a one-stop-shop for all passport and visa requirements. She directed me to a JP propped up right next to her stool with his own passport forms for sale. While he filled in my forms and signed and stamped everything, Cindy, her hands in cotton gloves, was trimming my four photos. For all of that I paid just $20. Meanwhile the JPs sat in wait for Cindy’s long line of patrons. Oh, the JPs all had change regardless of the dollar bills presented to them.

“I try to cater for everyone so I think that’s why I always have customers,” Cindy told me, with a clear understanding of how frustrating is the normally simple task of filling in forms and taking pictures that has been complicated by the public service. Cindy explains to her customers all they need to know about their hair, jewellery and clothing. The public service receptionists would do well to learn a few tips from Cindy about customer relations.

Cindy started out as a studio photographer, then she turned her hand to weddings. She sat on the idea of her present work situation for about two months before she took the plunge. Now she says she thrives on the level of satisfaction from her customers.   –