Monthly Archives: November 2011

Three months earlier I was sitting on my high stool behind the cash desk at the clothing boutique I worked in, browsing the internet for anything that caught my eye, glancing at the clock every few minutes to see if it was time to leave for lunch. I was bored and it was a boring job. At the time when the position of working in this high-end boutique was presented, it was perfect and exactly what I wanted. I wanted to use my knowledge of the fashion industry that I had gained from school and apply it in real life. I had worked with another woman for months when the relationship between her, the employers and me went sour. She decided to leave, to everyone’s relief. After that, I just slipped into the position of manager naturally and loved it…to start. The job started getting boring when I mentally “checked-out” after making a decision to move to France, and then switched my focus to obtaining a visa and learning the language instead of working hard at my job.

Max and I had been dating for 8 months by this point and becoming closer than ever. He just finished his semester a month earlier and was trying so hard to get a job in the Toronto area to stay an extra 4 months for the summer. If he couldn’t find a job he would lose the credit for the entire school year and have to repeat it; therefore it was quite an important quest on his part. I did what I could to support him: translated French reference letters, corrected his resume, suggested places that were hiring and all seemed to be looking up.

Within 2 weeks of searching, Max found the job he wanted selling high-end clothing just like me. The employer informed him that he couldn’t start until his work permit was approved by the government. He had already applied for this permit weeks earlier and both of us expected that it would have arrived by then but there was no sign of it anywhere. Every two or three days Max would call the government and ask where his permit was and why it hadn’t been approved yet. It wasn’t until it was too late that they finally told him that the immigration sector of the government was on strike and there was no chance of his permit being approved any time soon. This was devastating to both of us. We wanted to stay together during the summer time but I knew, and so did Max, that he had to obtain an international job in order to pass his school year. If Canada was blatantly blocking this opportunity he had to go to another country and obtain a job asap!

A few days after we found out the news that the work permit would not be arriving, Max sat me down to tell me that he had booked an airplane ride to London for the following week. As he is a citizen of the European Union, it wouldn’t be necessary for him to have a work permit to work in London and it would still be considered international work experience. It was a wise decision on his part but once he told me I was completely crushed. I supported his decision and knew from the bottom of my heart that this was right!

I had booked my appointment with the French consulate in Toronto months earlier and I was scheduled to meet with them a three days before Max would take his flight. If there was one thing I wanted it was to obtain the visa before Max left so that we could be sure that we would be together again and have something to look forward to. I knew that if they ended up approving me I would reunite with him on September 15 exactly 3 months away.

The day for the appointment arrived. The morning of, I checked and double checked that I had every single document I needed plus all of their copies. I dressed professionally with clothes I had picked out a week before and ironed at least three times in that week to make sure they were perfect. I blow-dried my hair, which I never do, I might add because it takes me 35 minutes, and I put on some subtle make-up to look give off a grand impression to whomever I would be meeting with. I filled out all of the forms and wrote an eager cover letter in French to express my desire to live in their country and my ability to speak their language (the reality that I have very little ability to speak their language hit when I arrived in the country).

Max met me downtown Toronto and we were off to the appointment. I entered the office on the 20^th floor of a building right in Yorkville village. The security guard let me in and I was led directly to a woman at the desk. I handed her my papers, she quickly scanned them and smiled at me and then said, “You have to have these documents dated for exactly 365 days apart.” She meant that I had to have bought an entire 365 days of insurance as well as a return ticket dated exactly 365 days from the day I would be leaving. I had booked the insurance and plane ticket for two weeks shy of a year, for the practical reason of wanting to go home before the new French school year begins in the first week of September. I smiled at her and asked her what I could do, knowing that I wouldn’t be given the visa on the same day, my heart slightly crushed. It had taken me three months to book an appointment with the consulate and I couldn’t wait another three months to find out if I could go or not. Plus, I heard that these visas were only given out to a certain amount of people and who knows if there would be any left by the time I could rebook an appointment.

“Just purchase some extra insurance and email us the new receipt.” She interrupted my thoughts. I took a deep breath. Not as bad as I thought it would be!

“I will!” I replied, completely relieved. Then I left the office to tell Max that I had to go do a little more “administrative work”, email the consulate these new papers and wait ten days for the result! He would be leaving in less than three days so I deemed it impossible to find out whether or not we would for sure be meeting in September before he left for London.

Back at work a few days later, as I was browsing countless websites for anything that caused my heart to pitter-patter a little faster or maybe my brain waves to jump with stimulation, Max walked into my work, coming back to me after running an errand to grab my passport from the consulate because I was unable to leave work. He was due to leave the next day and I was feeling less than happy and mucho less than excited. I just wanted him to stay. I wanted the stupid government to end their pointless strike and give my well-deserved boyfriend his freaking work permit. The reality I had to accept was different.

“Hey,” I said, less than enthused, looking at him as if he were about to go to war in the middle east or something.

“I have 2 pieces of good news for you!” He was unusually excited but I wouldn’t budge and join him in his excitement. “Number one: I have your passport!”

“Thanks babe.” I replied, “I really appreciate this!”

“Wait!” he said, “Let me tell you the other news.”

“What?”

“The 2^nd thing is that you have your visa!”

“What?!” I yell. “I do?!”

“Yes, you do!”

“But how? Why? Are you serious?!” I stumbled though all the words. He looked at me and I understood where the excitement in his eyes was coming from. I would end up seeing him in September after all and I found out before he left!  Two birds killed with one stone!

Little did I know that what I was to go through the next three months would make obtaining the visa and learning French seem like a cinch!

To be continued…