I'm Pissed...and I'm Bloody Happy About It

So we received yet another communiqué from our friends at the Department of Homeland Security. (That’s immigration to you and me).

This time we got yet another request for more information. After almost two years, they’ve decided now that the copy of our marriage license was not good enough, and we have to send off the original.

This ads yet another 90 days to my wait for a work permit as “No work permit may be issued until 90 days after this information is received”.

This puts me at Work Permit ETA at May 14th. Almost two years, one month, to the day that I first stepped foot into the country.

It’s a bit of a bugger, but to be honest, it’s a huge relief.

Why?

Because last time I heard from them, they told me that I needed to send them a bunch of forms (The ones that prove I took and passed a medical before I entered the USA). The problem was that I had already sent these forms, and didn’t have any more copies of them. (Let’s just say that since then, we get two notarized copies of every form we send them).

So here was the deal. I could either:

1. Get on a plane back to England, go to London and ask the doctor for another copy (These forms can’t be mailed from the doctor). This has the added complication in that my Visa has expired. Although I’m perfectly legal in the USA as long as immigration is processing my status change…if I leave the USA, I’m not allowed back in…so I’d have to go back through the whole Visa process (2 years and about $40,000, including phonecalls and airfare)


2. Take another medical over here, one that would cost about $500, and send in the new forms (Which we could in no-way afford).


3. Write to them, explain the situation, and hope for the best.

We went with option ‘c’…the only one we could do.

Now, not to badmouth them, but immigration is not ‘free’ with its information. You see, the onus is on me to get all the information I need. So if I write to the processing staff explaining the situation, they’re quite within their rights to say: “It’s not my job to explain the process to you, we asked you for information, and if you don’t provide it within the time limit, we’ll deny your application.”

In other words, I don’t hear anything until an Immigration Enforcement Officer turns up on my doorstep, takes me to an Immigrant Detention Center (read: Jail), until someone arranges passage back to England for me.

Let’s just say that my parents are coming to visit in April, and I was starting to have serious doubts as to whether I’d still be over here by then.

So basically, despite the fact that it was yet another delay, it means the other problem is solved, and I’m safe again.

Phew!

In other news, today I found myself holding a piece of paper up to my webcam that read:

“Mum and Dad. Puppy Ate Headset. Start Text Chat. The Button is At the Top of This Window.”

Yup, the little bastard chewed through the cord that I foolishly left dangling from the desk.

But as I told them, once I dug out my old crappy mic:

“I’d rather have a pup that destroyed a $15 headset, and learned his lesson…than one that craps all over the house.”