vis a vis a visa

Sorry to disappoint all of his fans, but this blog is not going to have any further mention of Michael Jackson, his music, his passing, or his pedophilia, although he was only a week older than I am. I am sorry that he struggled with an addiction to painkillers and I'm sure we'll hear in the media circus in the coming weeks that it contributed to his demise.

Instead, I am reporting in on a subject much closer to home: the Visa situation. As many of you know from previous episodes last summer and fall, obtaining special migrant worker status from the UK Home Office and visas from the British Embassy in New York can be a difficult task, mostly due to human error. Last summer Hubster mailed an application to the Home Office in London where he charged the fee to a US credit card. The application and all its supporting materials were returned unprocessed and we were informed that the credit card number did not have the right number of digits. It turns out that UK and US credit cards have different numbering systems, but how can one fill in an application with a UK credit card number if one has not moved there yet due to a lack of visa?

The situation was rectified by us paying the UK solicitor and the UK solicitor paying the Highly Skilled Migrant Worker Scheme application fee. The application materials, including original college diplomas, certified letters from banks detailing our assets, etc. were resubmitted. We were told that in the interim (five days?) the number of applications had gone up enormously and that we now might have to wait up to fourteen weeks for a reply. So we hunkered down for a long wait.

Half the summer went by and I was using my phenomenal psychic superpowers to check on the status of the application. I came up with a mental picture of the application materials slipped down the back of someone's desk and wedged up against a wall. "Shall we call and enquire?" I asked Hubster. "No" he replied, "it says right on the application that you MAY NOT call to enquire about the status of your application." Several more weeks went by. Finally, he decided to follow up with a phone call. The Home Office had no record of our application. It turned out that the application with supporting materials had been "misfiled", i.e., was probably down the back of someone's desk.

In the interim, we were advised to get TeenE a student visa so that she would be able to enter the country and participate in school field trips that might require a passport.

Several months later (in October, AFTER we had moved to London for TeenE to start school, but before David started to work), his Migrant Status was approved and he and I had to make separate trips to New York to obtain the actual visa. When an application was filed on my behalf, somehow the wrong form got used, and we wound up over-paying for a separate HSMP visa rather than the dependent spouse visa that I was to obtain. It all worked out in the end, however, and my visa was issued during a nail-biting several days in Manhatten, and we were eventually refunded our overpayment.

Fast-forward to June 2009. It was time to add TeenE as a dependent to Hubster's main visa.
All new letters from the banks certifying our now-income were obtained, as well as original birth certificate, etc. TeenE had to go back to the "application support center" in Boston to get her fingerprints redone (so they can ensure that it is actually the right person applying, rather than ensuring you have not had a fingerprint-transplant). The application was readied by Hubster after consultation with both the UK and US lawyers. I made a quick scan of it, and was struck by the amount of money being charged. It seemed like the high, overpayment number, rather than the lower, correct dependent number. "Are you sure you are using the right form?" I asked Hubster. "YES" he declared. So we made the appointment for TeenE in Boston and submitted the form electronically to the British Embassy with a cc. to the NY lawyers.

tick tock tick. Some time passes. I do not remember how much, an overnight, maybe, or a day or two. Then I get a phone call from Hubster, who is back in London by this time. Oops, the wrong form was used. IF ONLY THERE WAS A CLUE! Like someone who senses something is not right, and brings it to the attention of those in charge, only to be assured by her Hubster via three lawyers that all is well and correct. Hey, what do I know, right? It is almost "as if" Hubster really doesn't want us to have those visas...

So I was instructed to go to the Belmont public library to print out the NEW biometrics appointment slip for a week hence, although I was told to keep the appointment for this week, and have the fingerprints associated with the NEW appointment number, although we would be cancelling or not using the NEW appointment. I cleverly also printed out the NEW correct visa form. Of course, the street in Boston where the fingerprint place is located was entirely under construction, so I had to send TeenE in to the Application Support Center unattended while I circled around looking for a place to park. I decided to park illegally in a Commercial Vehicles Only zone right under the nose of al the policemen standing around watching the construction. When I got inside the Center, TeenE's fingertips were already being processed and I had to explain to the non-native English-speaker what the situation was with the NEW (next week) vs. OLD (right now today) appointment numbers. We made it out alive in under ten minutes and escaped from the Commercial Vehicles Only zone without a parking ticket.

I guess here is the place to mention that I left the house without TeenE's passport. I had taken it out of the stack of paperwork in order to staple a new passport-style photo to the NEW correct visa form. While just about to get onto the highway to Boston, my cell phone rang. It was Hubster, calling from London. "Do you have the passport?" "YES, I HAVE THE PASSPORT" I snipped, thinking to myself "He must think I'm an idiot". Stopped in a jam at the entrance to Storrow Drive, I had TeenE check the stack of papers just in case. The passport was NOT there. So we high-tailed it back to the house and retraced our route back to Storrow Drive, arriving on the dot of 2 pm for her appointment.

The next portion of the saga involves me attempting to send the completed packet of paperwork (with Passport, correct application form with photo stapled, bothe OLD and NEW biometrics appointment slips as duly stamped by the Application Support Center, etc.) to the lawyer in New York.

Son had taken the car to Needham that morning, as NeedhamSis had hired him to paint their back steps and it was the first day that week with no rain. I hoofed it down towards the knitting store, as FedEx informed me their were several FedEx collection boxes in that area.
FedEx Boxes, yes, FedEx envelopes, no. So I wound up walking to the Post Office (checking every FedEx box I passed, all of which were labelled FedEx Express ONLY (no FedEx Ground). I really didn't care if the application flew or drove to New York, but there were no envelopes anywhere. I filled out the paperwork and was soon at the counter talking with postal employee Thom, who is a Rock fan and who has checked out the Abbey Road webcam. I pulled out my wallet to pay the $20 and 90 cent postage fee, and.... no wallet. Thom graciously allowed me to come back the next day (with cash!) and got the Express Overnight Delivery Before Noon the Next Day package into the outgoing bin for me.

So despite the attempts at self-sabotage from all fronts, the application apparently left Belmont. No word has been received from the lawyer as to its arrival, although perhaps a summer Friday afternoon in Manhatten slows things down a bit.

Keep your fingers and toes crossed for more developments.