02/25/2007   English German
  Edition # 66  
San Francisco, 02-25-2007

The translation of "Fingerabdrücke auf der Polizeiwache" to

English is "Fingerprints at the police station.

Angelika Before I could start my new job, in addition to the mandatory TB test and proof that I can resuscitate someone, I also had to submit my fingerprints this time.

Through the FBI database, it was then ensured that there was nothing against me in the area of child abuse. I was already familiar with the procedure from the Tenderloin Childcare Center. They always sent us to the "Children's Councils" in San Francisco for the so-called "Live Scan," and the whole process was quick and painless.
Figure [1]: The main police station in San Francisco

In the "Live Scan," a method that has been common for a long time, fingerprints are no longer produced using ink. The individual fingertips are placed on a scanner, the fingerprints appear on the screen, and then they are swiftly sent electronically to the FBI.

Since we had already had to provide our fingerprints for our Green Card, I didn't think anything of it when I was asked to go to the police station in the courthouse on Bryant Street this time. After all, I had called the 1-800 number for the company "Identix Identification Services" and made an appointment, as my new employer instructed me. So, in a good mood, I went through the security check at the courthouse one fine morning and made my way to the police station.

Upon arriving there, I looked a bit bewildered because I not only encountered a jungle of hanging signs but also a long counter behind which a somewhat grim-looking young man with many tattoos was collecting fines from those standing in line in front of the counter. To the right, people were sitting on various chairs in front of a door labeled "Fingerprinting." I was a bit shocked to see a homeless person curled up asleep next to the chairs, especially since I was in a police station. I really thought I had stumbled into a Hollywood production. Bravely, I asked one of the people waiting in line for fingerprinting if they knew where I should report if I had an appointment or if I should take a number from the well-known number dispenser, to which they replied that they didn't work there. Thanks, very helpful. So, I tried my luck with a uniformed police officer who emerged from one of the various doors. He explained that I needed to inform the man behind the counter with the fines. I found this a bit strange, but I did as instructed, and indeed, the aforementioned man came out from behind his counter, led me past the line of waiting people who gave me a few dirty looks, and opened the door by entering a code.

Figure [2]: Michael, a friend of the police. (Only on the
film set of Universal Studios, haha!)>

In a flash, I found myself in the hallowed halls of the police station. A vast room with filing cabinets, office plants, and the occasional clatter of typewriters (no joke!) spread out before me. I felt like I was in the crime series "Cagney & Lacey." A friendly Black woman greeted me and asked me to take a seat. She immediately informed me that it might take a while because the computer responsible for FBI matters had just crashed. So, she first attended to the nice-looking young man before me, who had to stand in front of a large gray wall for a photo and whom she kindly asked about his probation officer. Did I mention that above the employee's desk hung a sign with the words "Sex Crime Unit"? It certainly got me thinking.

In the meantime, the guy I had spoken to about the fingerprint procedures was banging like crazy on the window next to the door and shouting that he had been waiting forever. He was actually next in line and had to stand in front of the ominous wall for the photo. When the employee asked him for his place of birth and residence, it turned out that the man was homeless and had been living on the streets for over a decade. She then immediately followed up with the question: "What's your location?" (meaning his usual place of stay). He replied: "24th and Mission!" Ah yes, the subway station near our apartment. I would have loved to watch this spectacle for hours, but unfortunately, it was my turn, and everything went smoothly.

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