There is a whole thing with sponsorship where you have to be specific in the “Nominated Title” of the occupation. Everything from Dog Trainer to Neurosurgeon are on this massive list. In that list you have to find your title and corresponding code. We picked “Office Manager”, even though thats not realllly what i do, it was the closest fit. So we geared my resume to be office manager-ish and had to write out a long ass report about my job description, what i would be doing long term, the way my role would develop, on-going training i would have to do, etc. it was like a college research paper devoted to “Heidi being an office manager in Australia”. We had to discuss why I was better for the job than an Australian, why I am qualified, why why why blah blah blah. We picked our Nominated Title and code from a list that is similar in length to the types of flora and fauna on the planet and also similar in length to the variety of ways you can cook shrimp.
We submitted this massive endeavor (i swear it felt like my final school project on the last day of school that i had been working on throughout the year)
so….we scratched our heads for a while, and then decided we needed to come up with whatever was the closest match to an Approved Job on the Stupid Gazetted Occupations Secret List They Hid From Me…
and voila!
Policy and Planning Manager.
taaaa daaaaa.
so, we re-wrote all my job description stuff, re-wrote all those lovely reports and sent it off. the ironic thing was that the policy manager role and stuff is a helluva lot more like my role than my office manager title is. and can i just interject how damn lucky i am to have a boss and co-workers who are willing to tolerate and help with all this crap? anyhoogle, it has made for a very stressful week. then i got notified that i had to get a chest x-ray done as part of my application, because TB is still the “not-so-hip-contagious-thing” of the century. SO i booked an appointment for that, at an Immi-appointed medical clinic in the city which was strangely reminiscent of the DMV in Harbor City, just minus the African Americans and the Mexicans (because Yo! Esse, Australia is all full of white folk up in here beeyotch)….the extra-awesome part of that adventure was i picked the most annoying day of the year to tram into the city. Turns out our cabbies are gettin a bit pissy about their wage, lack of safety, and i guess they dont make enough in Hazard Pay because all those dudes decided to have a big ol’ strike protest thing in the city the same hours as my YouBetterNotHaveTB appointment. so a normal tram ride of 25 minutes took about an hour with all the detours. and then of course, in typical Bureaucratic style, the form that i so diligently filled out BEFORE my appointment (because i was a good girl who really really wants a visa so i do everything right and i downloaded and printed and filled out my form days before my appointment so that i could be whisked through the line and they would be happy with me that i filled it out beforehand because i want a visa soooo bad and i am such a good girl) that sweet Bureaucracy-at-its-finest– Form was of course NOT the right one. turns out my application manager over in the immigration building was not using the Magical Revised Form and was using an outdated one, so i had to look like the idiot in the line and be the Lady Who Didnt Fill Out Here Form Beforhand (tisk tisk). I filled out my form and told them in a very–foot stamping–can you tell i’m the youngest sibling?-sort-of-way that THIS was NOT the form my Immigration Officer Emailed me I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW, and to prove it I will show you her email print out to Prove I am still a good little Pretend Aussie. So anyway, did the chest Xray, lungs look great, and off I went back to the office, jumped on a tram while battling the striking cabbies. Because of course, nothing to do with the government could EVER possibly occur outside of business hours because none of us have jobs either, and its always so convenient to leave work and just head over to your local Government institution in the middle of your damn day.
oh and might i add, in the middle of all of this stress of visas and codes and ThisIsMyFuture,People! and life and death and angry topless cabbies, was a sniffling, coughing and congested little Me, all bundled up for a blizzard with my nose running like a faucet. Feeling like crap does not go so well when paired with paperwork, red tape and public transport.
so the lesson in all of this?
stay in your home country, tip your cabbie, and throw on a scarf.
or be like me…and just daydream about that priceless moment when you will get that precious little piece of paper that says “Welcome to Australia, and Yes, you can stay”….then smile a big smile… and hug a koala.
Wednesday May 28, 2008 at 11:07 pm
i want to hug you. and a koala.