I had a panic attack (not literally) the other day. I have packed everything into storage and I realized that I had no idea where my passport was.
NO FREAKING IDEA!
First I thought: It's with my contract and all the stuff I took down to Houston.
Then I found the contract and the stuff I went to Houston with and it wasn't there.
Then I thought: It's with my shot records.
Then I found my shot records and it wasn't with them.
Then I freaked out considering the possibilities that I packed it into storage, I threw it away, that I'd never find it, that I'd have to face all the consequences of breaking the contract . . .
I fretted about it for about 5 hours when suddenly it came to me in a flash!
It was (of course) in my scanner. I had scanned a copy of the visa to send to India. I had never taken it out!
I'm a freaking genius!
(she said tongue in cheek)
Friday, May 26, 2006
I figured it would take a few weeks to get the cash in my little paws, but the check is waiting for me at my aunt's house right now!
Yeah! I had been concerned about my depleted bank account. I hadn't paid my rent, my last bills, and I still don't know how much I'll have to fork over to get Buzz to India.
I went to my apartment manager to confess my delinquency in the rent (for May) because apparently she hadn't noticed that I never paid. (Kinda flakey) I told her I was moving out and that I hadn't paid the rent, but I would pay it in July when I got my first pay check. She said, "Oh, you're leaving today? Well, I guess I don't have to evict you then."
Living in the ghetto is so quorky.
Later as I was moving out more things she said, "Listen, so you don't get in trouble, and I don't get in trouble, let's just say you moved out on the 1st, and forfited your deposit."
I said, "FINE BY ME!"
I mean, the dog ate the bathroom carpet, I figured the deposit was gone anyway.
Yeah! I had been concerned about my depleted bank account. I hadn't paid my rent, my last bills, and I still don't know how much I'll have to fork over to get Buzz to India.
I went to my apartment manager to confess my delinquency in the rent (for May) because apparently she hadn't noticed that I never paid. (Kinda flakey) I told her I was moving out and that I hadn't paid the rent, but I would pay it in July when I got my first pay check. She said, "Oh, you're leaving today? Well, I guess I don't have to evict you then."
Living in the ghetto is so quorky.
Later as I was moving out more things she said, "Listen, so you don't get in trouble, and I don't get in trouble, let's just say you moved out on the 1st, and forfited your deposit."
I said, "FINE BY ME!"
I mean, the dog ate the bathroom carpet, I figured the deposit was gone anyway.
In other news:
The insurance company called and all is well with the car. They came out and did an inspection of the damage. It was kind of funny. The guy looked at the car with all the dents and dings and missing pieces. It was dirty and packed full of stuff to take to storage, there may have been ketchup on the front left fender . . .
He made notes of everything, I showed him the damage. He said, "Is this part of it?"
I said, "No, that's where I ran into a fence, it starts here and goes to here."
He said, "Oh . . ." and wrote down some more stuff.
I figured he was going to give me some rediculously low estimate because of how bad the car looks in general and because it's old etc. But he came up with a sum greater than that which I paid for the car origionally.
Heck yeah! And that just for minor damage. I mean if I had a new car I would want it fixed, but for a old car that's already banged up in the first place . . . I took the cash!
It worked out well for all concerned. I had already agreed to sell the car to my aunt, so I told her about the damage, dropped the price in half and now we are both happy that I got hit by a granny.
The insurance company called and all is well with the car. They came out and did an inspection of the damage. It was kind of funny. The guy looked at the car with all the dents and dings and missing pieces. It was dirty and packed full of stuff to take to storage, there may have been ketchup on the front left fender . . .
He made notes of everything, I showed him the damage. He said, "Is this part of it?"
I said, "No, that's where I ran into a fence, it starts here and goes to here."
He said, "Oh . . ." and wrote down some more stuff.
I figured he was going to give me some rediculously low estimate because of how bad the car looks in general and because it's old etc. But he came up with a sum greater than that which I paid for the car origionally.
Heck yeah! And that just for minor damage. I mean if I had a new car I would want it fixed, but for a old car that's already banged up in the first place . . . I took the cash!
It worked out well for all concerned. I had already agreed to sell the car to my aunt, so I told her about the damage, dropped the price in half and now we are both happy that I got hit by a granny.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
I got about 50 miles from Houston when some 74 year old granny decided to run me off the road with her newer and better Buick.
She wanted to be exactly where I was. She bumped me off into the median. I was having flashes of my last accident, going through the median, going into oncoming traffic . . . then I saw the retaining wall and I thought, “Great, now I’m going to run into that wall and smash my car into tiny bits.”
It’s amazing how many thoughts you can have in just a few seconds.
I (praise God) was able to stop before I smashed my car into the retaining wall and/or tiny bits.
The offending Buick kept going!
I had enough presence of mind to write down the license plate number.
Then she stopped on the other side of the road.
I sat there and recuperated for a minute. No airbag had come out, I looked at the car, just a cracked fender, dented door and messed up paint.
I got back on the road and drove over to where the other Buick had stopped.
I wondered as I got out of the car why the other driver wasn’t getting out the car.
Then I saw a handicap tag hanging on the mirror.
As I got closer I saw that it was an old lady with peachy-white hair.
She was very upset.
She kept apologizing and crying and I almost said, “Its okay.” Then I thought, ‘It’s not okay! She just ran me off the road!’ So I said, “Well, it was an accident.”
Almost immediately there was a police officer there.
Just behind her was a tow truck.
The officer took our information while the tow truck driver looked at our cars.
The officer gave the old woman a ticket, the tow truck driver said our cars were both okay to drive.
That whole incidet just added to my bad day.
I got back in the car, and started driving.
After that I saw a police car at least once every mile for the next 20 miles. I was definitely going the speed limit by that time, so I was again shocked when the officer turned his lights on and came after me.
He was a cute little guy, and he said, “I pulled you over because you are not displaying a front license plate.”
My day was getting badder and badder.
I’ve been driving that car for four years; I’ve never had a front license plate.
As a matter of fact I had been misinformed about this law. I had been told it had been changed. But it hasn’t changed; the bill didn’t go through . . . I got a warning. I told him I didn’t have a drill to put it on (True) that the bracket I bought didn’t fit the exiting holes (True) and that the plate was in my trunk. (Nearly true) I think the plate it actually between the trunk and the back seat.
What I wanted to say was, “I don’t care! I’m selling the car and leaving the country in a matter of weeks!”
I said, “Yes, thank you officer, I’ll remember to put it on.”
Amazingly enough I made it home with out being yelled at, run off the road or stopped by the police again.
She wanted to be exactly where I was. She bumped me off into the median. I was having flashes of my last accident, going through the median, going into oncoming traffic . . . then I saw the retaining wall and I thought, “Great, now I’m going to run into that wall and smash my car into tiny bits.”
It’s amazing how many thoughts you can have in just a few seconds.
I (praise God) was able to stop before I smashed my car into the retaining wall and/or tiny bits.
The offending Buick kept going!
I had enough presence of mind to write down the license plate number.
Then she stopped on the other side of the road.
I sat there and recuperated for a minute. No airbag had come out, I looked at the car, just a cracked fender, dented door and messed up paint.
I got back on the road and drove over to where the other Buick had stopped.
I wondered as I got out of the car why the other driver wasn’t getting out the car.
Then I saw a handicap tag hanging on the mirror.
As I got closer I saw that it was an old lady with peachy-white hair.
She was very upset.
She kept apologizing and crying and I almost said, “Its okay.” Then I thought, ‘It’s not okay! She just ran me off the road!’ So I said, “Well, it was an accident.”
Almost immediately there was a police officer there.
Just behind her was a tow truck.
The officer took our information while the tow truck driver looked at our cars.
The officer gave the old woman a ticket, the tow truck driver said our cars were both okay to drive.
That whole incidet just added to my bad day.
I got back in the car, and started driving.
After that I saw a police car at least once every mile for the next 20 miles. I was definitely going the speed limit by that time, so I was again shocked when the officer turned his lights on and came after me.
He was a cute little guy, and he said, “I pulled you over because you are not displaying a front license plate.”
My day was getting badder and badder.
I’ve been driving that car for four years; I’ve never had a front license plate.
As a matter of fact I had been misinformed about this law. I had been told it had been changed. But it hasn’t changed; the bill didn’t go through . . . I got a warning. I told him I didn’t have a drill to put it on (True) that the bracket I bought didn’t fit the exiting holes (True) and that the plate was in my trunk. (Nearly true) I think the plate it actually between the trunk and the back seat.
What I wanted to say was, “I don’t care! I’m selling the car and leaving the country in a matter of weeks!”
I said, “Yes, thank you officer, I’ll remember to put it on.”
Amazingly enough I made it home with out being yelled at, run off the road or stopped by the police again.
In other news:
I was driving through Boyd, TX (population 1,281) a few days ago and I got pulled over for going 57 in a 45 zone. I was literally 100 feet from the 60mph sign when the officer put his lights on. I was already past the sign by the time he pulled me over. He gave me a warning.
So, with that warning in mind I drove to Houston the next day to get my visa from the Indian Consulate. I set my cruise control and kept to the speed limit all the way there. I only nearly ran into a semi once on account of playing with the radio.
I got to the consulate without any major issues. (Except that they had changed the name of the road the Consulate was on, but I figured that out.) I got there, took some time to find the right building, the right floor, the right suite. I found the door and I read a sign that said, “Hours: 9:00 am to 12:30pm and 4:00 pm to 5:00 pm.” The time according to Mickey was approximately 2:15pm.
I walked around a little more and found the receptionist, who informed me that they only take visa applications in the morning. It’s a long drive to Houston, and I wanted my trip to have a purpose so I made my case known. She said if I was willing to pay an additional fee of $35 I could get it that day.
Fine, I was willing. So I waited until 4:00 when the office was supposed to open again.
I was still waiting, along with about 100 Indians at 4:40. Finally the window opened and it got to my turn, they told me to sit down and wait until everyone else had gone through.
(Houston traffic is a known horror this was my thought at rush hour.)
Finally, my turn again. I gave the woman my passport, my contract, my application. She said, “You must pay an extra $35 for this.”
I said, “OK”
She said, “You can only have a one year visa.”
I said, “I only want a one year visa.”
She said, “This contract only says one year.”
I said, “Okay.”
She said, “You marked five years on your application.”
I said, “No, I didn’t”
She looked at it again and said, “Oh.”
She said, “You want a business visa.”
I said, “Employment.”
She said, “You marked business.”
I said, “I wrote ‘employment’ in the blank.”
She said, “You marked business.”
I said, “I want employment, I didn’t know there was a difference and there’s not a place to mark ‘Employment’.”
She left. 10 minutes later she came back and gave me my visa. It said, “B” as in “Business.” I took it back and said, “I wanted “E.”
She said, “I asked you and asked you! You said Business!”
Someone came up behind her and asked her what was wrong (Since she was yelling at me.)
She said, “I asked her and asked her! She said Business, now she wants Employment!”
I was shocked!
Honestly I know I may have marked business, but I also wrote employment, I said, employment, the contract said employment. And maybe I’ve lived a very sheltered life, but I have never come across an Indian national as rude as this woman! (Maybe she was American who knows?)
So she took the visa back and 10 minutes later she handed me another one.
I looked at it and said, “You have the wrong dates on here.”
She said, “No, we don’t.”
I said, but the contract starts June 1. This is dated for tomorrow.
She said, “WE decided the dates.”
Then she left.
She was unhappy, I was unhappy. Good job mean Indian woman!
I was driving through Boyd, TX (population 1,281) a few days ago and I got pulled over for going 57 in a 45 zone. I was literally 100 feet from the 60mph sign when the officer put his lights on. I was already past the sign by the time he pulled me over. He gave me a warning.
So, with that warning in mind I drove to Houston the next day to get my visa from the Indian Consulate. I set my cruise control and kept to the speed limit all the way there. I only nearly ran into a semi once on account of playing with the radio.
I got to the consulate without any major issues. (Except that they had changed the name of the road the Consulate was on, but I figured that out.) I got there, took some time to find the right building, the right floor, the right suite. I found the door and I read a sign that said, “Hours: 9:00 am to 12:30pm and 4:00 pm to 5:00 pm.” The time according to Mickey was approximately 2:15pm.
I walked around a little more and found the receptionist, who informed me that they only take visa applications in the morning. It’s a long drive to Houston, and I wanted my trip to have a purpose so I made my case known. She said if I was willing to pay an additional fee of $35 I could get it that day.
Fine, I was willing. So I waited until 4:00 when the office was supposed to open again.
I was still waiting, along with about 100 Indians at 4:40. Finally the window opened and it got to my turn, they told me to sit down and wait until everyone else had gone through.
(Houston traffic is a known horror this was my thought at rush hour.)
Finally, my turn again. I gave the woman my passport, my contract, my application. She said, “You must pay an extra $35 for this.”
I said, “OK”
She said, “You can only have a one year visa.”
I said, “I only want a one year visa.”
She said, “This contract only says one year.”
I said, “Okay.”
She said, “You marked five years on your application.”
I said, “No, I didn’t”
She looked at it again and said, “Oh.”
She said, “You want a business visa.”
I said, “Employment.”
She said, “You marked business.”
I said, “I wrote ‘employment’ in the blank.”
She said, “You marked business.”
I said, “I want employment, I didn’t know there was a difference and there’s not a place to mark ‘Employment’.”
She left. 10 minutes later she came back and gave me my visa. It said, “B” as in “Business.” I took it back and said, “I wanted “E.”
She said, “I asked you and asked you! You said Business!”
Someone came up behind her and asked her what was wrong (Since she was yelling at me.)
She said, “I asked her and asked her! She said Business, now she wants Employment!”
I was shocked!
Honestly I know I may have marked business, but I also wrote employment, I said, employment, the contract said employment. And maybe I’ve lived a very sheltered life, but I have never come across an Indian national as rude as this woman! (Maybe she was American who knows?)
So she took the visa back and 10 minutes later she handed me another one.
I looked at it and said, “You have the wrong dates on here.”
She said, “No, we don’t.”
I said, but the contract starts June 1. This is dated for tomorrow.
She said, “WE decided the dates.”
Then she left.
She was unhappy, I was unhappy. Good job mean Indian woman!
Official announcement:
I’ve taken a job in Bangalore, India. I will be leaving at the end of May. I have a one year contract. I will be working for a placement company which will place me at Microsoft as a Language/Culture Trainer. I will work with Indian Microsoft Software Engineers to help them better relate to American customers.
I chose this job over an offer from Korea because I figured that although I will make less money than I would have in Korea, this was a good opportunity to live and work in India, to work in the business sector of the ESL profession, and I like the food and the millions of sparkly, shinny things that I know I can find in India.
I’ve taken a job in Bangalore, India. I will be leaving at the end of May. I have a one year contract. I will be working for a placement company which will place me at Microsoft as a Language/Culture Trainer. I will work with Indian Microsoft Software Engineers to help them better relate to American customers.
I chose this job over an offer from Korea because I figured that although I will make less money than I would have in Korea, this was a good opportunity to live and work in India, to work in the business sector of the ESL profession, and I like the food and the millions of sparkly, shinny things that I know I can find in India.
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