and if you don't like her eyes, you just get 'em annulled
I haven't used this icon before, and even though things eventually worked out okay, I feel like it matched the tone of my day pretty well, so here it is.
So, let's see. Peel finally got a response back regarding the Labour Market Opinion on Monday; yesterday I went by their offices first thing to pick up a copy of my offer letter on letterhead. Today, armed with said offer letter, the LMO response, a work permit application, a job description, 6 photos of myself, both of my diplomas, my resume, my certifications, my NJ background check results, and probably at least a dozen other documents I'm forgetting about, I went down to Niagara Falls. I parked my car (even paid for parking although I was the only car in the clearly-not-being-used-as-it-still-had-a-layer-of-snow-over-the-whole-thing lot), paid my 50 cents to go through the turnstile, walked across the bridge (or at least halfway; I did cross the international boundary line but didn't go all the way to the States) and came back so I could enter Canada and apply for my work permit. I got called up almost immediately after I arrived in the immigration building around 11:30; there was hardly a wait at all. And that is where things stopped going smoothly.
My immigration official, who looked a lot like Dianne Wiest, told me that we had a problem right off the bat because my offer letter didn't specify a beginning and end date for my position, and she couldn't give a work permit to an American for a long-term/open-ended/full time job. I had figured that might be an issue, and I knew the only reason they hadn't specified a start date was because it would be dependent on when my Canadian Criminal Record Check comes back. So I ask Ms. Wiest if I could call Peel and have them edit the letter to include dates and fax it over to immigration. She says yes, even though 'normally we can't do that'; I go outside and call Marybeth, my HR person at Peel, who is also my hero for today. She agrees to put a start date pending receipt of the CRC, and faxes it right over. Warns me that she's stepping out to lunch after that, but that I should call her when I'm done to let her know the result.
Naturally, Dianne Wiest has me sit in the waiting area for a good 45 minutes before calling me back up to the counter and informing me that the new letter is also not correct. What. She says that the way the letter is worded with the dates makes it seem as if my offer is open from March 1 to June 30, and that as long as I get the required documents within those 4 months, the job will be open indefinitely after that. So it needs to be revised again to specify that my employment will end on June 30, and also it cannot say that it's a full-time long term assignment. She lets me call Marybeth again, but of course she's at lunch and I cannot get ahold of a single useful person at Peel. Meanwhile, Ms. Wiest keeps telling me that if we can't get this resolved, she'll have to send me back to the States until I can get the correct documents, as if I need anything more substantial than a revision of a single sentence. She also calls me up at one point to argue with me about what category she has to put my job under, and repeatedly explains how my job title isn't one of the 4 example jobs under the psychologist category, so she can't put me under that. Frankly, I don't care what the hell category she puts me under, just as long as she gives me the damn work permit.
More waiting and waiting and waiting. Around 1:45, my lovely immigration officer tells me that if I can't get ahold of Marybeth then, that she will send me back to the States. I go outside to try and call her one last time, and miracle of miracles, she actually calls me as I'm calling her. She also does not understand why this lady was not satisfied with the first revision, but agrees to change it again and fax it over. And for this, I love her and want to shower her with gifts. Finally, upon hearing that the new offer letter is on its way, Dianne Wiest takes me into a back room to have my picture taken. "Do you want to use the pictures I brought with me? [You know, the ones that I paid for and got to match the specifications listed on your website?]" "No, we take our own pictures." Okay, so glad I paid for those, twice. (Note: they also didn't need the application I filled out; apparently that's only for getting a work permit by mail.) Whatever. More waiting, and finally, finally, she calls me up and hands me a piece of paper that she says I can take to the other window and pay, then bring the receipt back. I could've cried, I was so relieved. Three hours, almost exactly, after I walked into the immigration building, I left bearing a shiny new Canadian work permit.
I was so so tense the whole time I was waiting. I think she was training another immigration officer, because she kept explaining things to her. I kept hearing snippets of what was being said between them, but never enough to really know what was going on and whether it was good or bad for me. I alternately wanted to cry or throw up, and my leg muscles are still sore from how much I was clenching them while I was waiting. Three hours of being totally up in the air on something this important was really not fun. Anyway, I have the work permit now, which means that as soon as I get the Canadian Criminal Record Check (going to do that tomorrow), I can actually start working, which will be amazing. The work permit's good till June 30, but if Peel decides they want to hire me past that, I just have to mail it in for an extension. And now I pretty much just want to collapse.
Two random but awesome addendums to this entry: first, I saw a car from Virginia that had William & Mary plates today! Here, in Toronto! I was super excited. We were in traffic that was barely crawling along, and no lie, if I could have gotten my car right next to hers, I totally would have tried to get her attention to share my excitement about our common ground. Yes, I am that much of a dork, haha. Second, both Brad and I were exhausted tonight, because while I was sitting in terror at immigration, he was taking two tests and doing a lab. Fun day. Since neither of us had any energy, I suggested just ordering pizza and having it delivered. Pizza Pizza has a policy that if your food is not delivered within 40 minutes, it's free. Don't think I ever noticed that before, but I saw it tonight and noted it. Sure enough, our pizza took more than 40 minutes to get here, and I called the driver on it. They have it printed right on the receipt, actually, that if your food is not there by the specific time that is 40 minutes after your order was placed, it is free. The time on the receipt was 8:35; the driver checked his phone and saw that it was 8:48, and we got a free dinner. Awesome!
And that is all from me. Time to veg out and watch some tv until bed. Much love!
So, let's see. Peel finally got a response back regarding the Labour Market Opinion on Monday; yesterday I went by their offices first thing to pick up a copy of my offer letter on letterhead. Today, armed with said offer letter, the LMO response, a work permit application, a job description, 6 photos of myself, both of my diplomas, my resume, my certifications, my NJ background check results, and probably at least a dozen other documents I'm forgetting about, I went down to Niagara Falls. I parked my car (even paid for parking although I was the only car in the clearly-not-being-used-as-it-still-had-a-layer-of-snow-over-the-whole-thing lot), paid my 50 cents to go through the turnstile, walked across the bridge (or at least halfway; I did cross the international boundary line but didn't go all the way to the States) and came back so I could enter Canada and apply for my work permit. I got called up almost immediately after I arrived in the immigration building around 11:30; there was hardly a wait at all. And that is where things stopped going smoothly.
My immigration official, who looked a lot like Dianne Wiest, told me that we had a problem right off the bat because my offer letter didn't specify a beginning and end date for my position, and she couldn't give a work permit to an American for a long-term/open-ended/full time job. I had figured that might be an issue, and I knew the only reason they hadn't specified a start date was because it would be dependent on when my Canadian Criminal Record Check comes back. So I ask Ms. Wiest if I could call Peel and have them edit the letter to include dates and fax it over to immigration. She says yes, even though 'normally we can't do that'; I go outside and call Marybeth, my HR person at Peel, who is also my hero for today. She agrees to put a start date pending receipt of the CRC, and faxes it right over. Warns me that she's stepping out to lunch after that, but that I should call her when I'm done to let her know the result.
Naturally, Dianne Wiest has me sit in the waiting area for a good 45 minutes before calling me back up to the counter and informing me that the new letter is also not correct. What. She says that the way the letter is worded with the dates makes it seem as if my offer is open from March 1 to June 30, and that as long as I get the required documents within those 4 months, the job will be open indefinitely after that. So it needs to be revised again to specify that my employment will end on June 30, and also it cannot say that it's a full-time long term assignment. She lets me call Marybeth again, but of course she's at lunch and I cannot get ahold of a single useful person at Peel. Meanwhile, Ms. Wiest keeps telling me that if we can't get this resolved, she'll have to send me back to the States until I can get the correct documents, as if I need anything more substantial than a revision of a single sentence. She also calls me up at one point to argue with me about what category she has to put my job under, and repeatedly explains how my job title isn't one of the 4 example jobs under the psychologist category, so she can't put me under that. Frankly, I don't care what the hell category she puts me under, just as long as she gives me the damn work permit.
More waiting and waiting and waiting. Around 1:45, my lovely immigration officer tells me that if I can't get ahold of Marybeth then, that she will send me back to the States. I go outside to try and call her one last time, and miracle of miracles, she actually calls me as I'm calling her. She also does not understand why this lady was not satisfied with the first revision, but agrees to change it again and fax it over. And for this, I love her and want to shower her with gifts. Finally, upon hearing that the new offer letter is on its way, Dianne Wiest takes me into a back room to have my picture taken. "Do you want to use the pictures I brought with me? [You know, the ones that I paid for and got to match the specifications listed on your website?]" "No, we take our own pictures." Okay, so glad I paid for those, twice. (Note: they also didn't need the application I filled out; apparently that's only for getting a work permit by mail.) Whatever. More waiting, and finally, finally, she calls me up and hands me a piece of paper that she says I can take to the other window and pay, then bring the receipt back. I could've cried, I was so relieved. Three hours, almost exactly, after I walked into the immigration building, I left bearing a shiny new Canadian work permit.
I was so so tense the whole time I was waiting. I think she was training another immigration officer, because she kept explaining things to her. I kept hearing snippets of what was being said between them, but never enough to really know what was going on and whether it was good or bad for me. I alternately wanted to cry or throw up, and my leg muscles are still sore from how much I was clenching them while I was waiting. Three hours of being totally up in the air on something this important was really not fun. Anyway, I have the work permit now, which means that as soon as I get the Canadian Criminal Record Check (going to do that tomorrow), I can actually start working, which will be amazing. The work permit's good till June 30, but if Peel decides they want to hire me past that, I just have to mail it in for an extension. And now I pretty much just want to collapse.
Two random but awesome addendums to this entry: first, I saw a car from Virginia that had William & Mary plates today! Here, in Toronto! I was super excited. We were in traffic that was barely crawling along, and no lie, if I could have gotten my car right next to hers, I totally would have tried to get her attention to share my excitement about our common ground. Yes, I am that much of a dork, haha. Second, both Brad and I were exhausted tonight, because while I was sitting in terror at immigration, he was taking two tests and doing a lab. Fun day. Since neither of us had any energy, I suggested just ordering pizza and having it delivered. Pizza Pizza has a policy that if your food is not delivered within 40 minutes, it's free. Don't think I ever noticed that before, but I saw it tonight and noted it. Sure enough, our pizza took more than 40 minutes to get here, and I called the driver on it. They have it printed right on the receipt, actually, that if your food is not there by the specific time that is 40 minutes after your order was placed, it is free. The time on the receipt was 8:35; the driver checked his phone and saw that it was 8:48, and we got a free dinner. Awesome!
And that is all from me. Time to veg out and watch some tv until bed. Much love!