Saturday, August 30, 2014

FINALLY got my work permit

When we first moved up to Vancouver, we went through the Peace Arch (super cool place, don't let the horrible .gov website make you think any differently) and tried to get the study permit for Max and the work permit for me. That didn't go as planned, but they were very nice about it and assured us that when we reentered after the wedding Max would get his permit and I'd be able to get mine as long as we had our marriage license, proof of funds, proof of Max's acceptance, and proof of his school program being paid for. They told us it would be fine. That we would both be able to get our permits. Even if I didn't have a job offer yet. That things would be fine.

Mmmhmm.

Then we flew back in.

Things were certainly not fine.

I went online to try to apply for a work permit. I successfully went through the process to BE APPROVED TO APPLY MY REQUEST to get a work permit. Quite seriously. They ask you a series of questions and then tell you that you might be eligible for X or Y type of work permit. Then the program sets up an account with the required paperwork for the application for the permit. I had to upload copies of several documents and download one they provided, fill it out, and reattach it. This is fine. I'm very capable of all of these things. I clicked to download the form.

IT WASN'T THERE. A full Adobe PDF downloaded and opened. Across the top of the document were the following two statements: "This form requires the latest version of Adobe Reader. Try downloading the latest version here." It just said "here." Like it could be a real link you could click. But it was a PDF. It was a whole PDF.

I thought maybe, just maybe, this actually was on my end. I downloaded and installed the latest version of Adobe Reader. I got the exact same form. I tried to download it on my phone. On Max's laptop. On my tablet. On Max's old MacBook. I then uninstalled Adobe Reader and installed a slightly older version, but one which they explicitly listed on a help session page. Every single time I got the PDF telling me to download Reader.

I figured I could email someone and let them know that the wrong form was out there. I wound my way through the contact us center to find the exact page for the problem I was having. If I had already submitted my application, they provided an email address I could contact. Otherwise, if I was still working on my application, I should navigate to my home page and click on the "Tell Us" link in the upper right hand corner. THERE IS NO SUCH LINK.

I am now frustrated beyond belief.

Meanwhile, I've been applying for jobs. Because I need a job.

I've had an excellent interview with a company I really like, and they ask what my work permit status is. I check online one more time to see if the form issue is fixed. 

It's not.

Of course.

I start to cry from frustration. 

Max asks what's wrong. We need to drive to the border. NOW. He grabs his keys and we head down to the parking garage.

The line at the border wasn't awful. We would have gone to a crossing with a shorter wait time, but I was worried about the ability of other facilities to file the proper paperwork. The guard at the US entry wasn't that bad. He asked a TON of questions. He was right in line with the personal inquisition of the DMV workers we encountered a few weeks back. Something about the States, man. 

We headed down to Blaine for dinner. This might be the cutest city in the whole of the United States of America.

In case you couldn't read it in that first picture:


WHERE AMERICA BEGINS. 

I just can't. It was too cute. We had pizza (well, Max had a calzone) at the local pizza place on the main street in town. It was picture perfect. I didn't want to leave.

We drove the 5 minutes to get in line to enter Canada. The line was just as exhausting and never ending as the line to enter the US.

We then encountered one of the most intimidating and accusatory people I have ever met.

Max handed him our passports and he asked where we lived. Max tried to answer.

"Vancouv-"

"Vancouver, Canada? Vancouver, Washington? I don't know which one you're talking about."

"Canada, sorry."

"Why were you in the States?"

"We just got dinner."

"Where?"

"Blaine."

"How do you two know each other?"

** My passport already has Burgess as my last name...

"We're married."

"What are you doing in Canada"

"I'm here for school, we're hoping to get her work permit now."

"When did you enter Canada last?"

Max - "A couple of-"

"I was asking her."

Cathy - "August 5th, after our wedding."

"Ok, where was the wedding, when was the wedding. I don't know what wedding you're talking about. I don't know where you were or whose wedding it was or what you were doing."

"Ok, sorry."

"No, it's fine, I just need to know the information."

"Ok. It was our wedding on Saturday, August 2nd, in Dallas, TX."

"Ok. Do you have anything to declare."

** It's important to note here that there is nothing else in our car. The back is empty, there's nothing in the back seats. I have my purse on the floor in front of me.

"Nope, nothing."

"No weapons, no food, no animals, no drugs? You didn't pick up anything when you were down South?"

** We had just been in Blaine for maybe an hour to have dinner....

"No, nothing at all."

"Alright, pull ahead and hand this form to the officer."

OH MY GOSH. That was by far our worst customs/border experience! Even the lady we dealt with when we forgot to declare the cats was nicer! The worst was really just the accusatory tone he had at all times and way he kept jumping on our answers!

I am now terrified that I'll just be deported and won't see Max or the cats again for a year. Shaking in my boots. Ready to pass out.

We park and head inside, go stand in the proper line and wait to be called to the front.

The nicest young lady comes up and calls us over. We hand her Max's passport with his study permit, my passport, and our marriage certificate, explaining that I'd like to apply for a work permit. She has the softest, friendliest voice I have heard in my entire life.

"Oh you JUST got married?!"

** OH GOD PLEASE DON'T THINK THIS IS A GREEN CARD MARRIAGE AND DENY MY REQUEST OR POSTPONE AND START AN INVESTIGATION

"Well congratulations! Alright have a seat."

I'm visibly sweating at this point.

Max tries to calm me down and we joke about the Border Security show I've taken to, saying we should have been at least 5 episodes by now (I'm honestly going to do an entire post on that show, because it's hilarious!). 

I see her walk over to the printer and finally I start to feel hopeful and relieved. She calls us back up to the counter.

And just hands me my passport with a work permit printed and stapled in it!!!!! WHAAAATTT!!!?!?! So exciting!

So now I can work in Canada. Theoretically.