Fortune 500: Monday's Disappointment

The first week at my dream job with one of the biggest Fortune 500 companies based in the frozen tundra was nothing if not an abject disappointment. The first day alone was ridiculous and warned me that this company would be on equal footing as the non-profit I slaved at for three years when it came to technology. The morning training session was punctuated with a series of technological failures, and each event was more baffling than the last.

Trainer 1 had a laptop that refused to turn on, and once that issue was solved she had to go back to her desk multiple times for print-offs and other materials. We spent the hour between the end of the training and lunch sitting at what would be our desks with no instructions or direction. I couldn't even try signing in to the systems because I had a computer tower with no monitors. I was forced to socialize with a fellow trainee out of sheer mind numbing boredom. I would have been better off keeping to myself and drafting blog posts in the notebook I had brought with me.

Into the Den of Jackels

This post has been a long time coming, but it is still in fresh in my mind as though it were only yesterday.  Knowing myself intimately the way I do, I decided that I should schedule myself a bunch of appointments to help keep myself occupied while I waited impatiently for the interview to come to pass.  The first stop of the day was to get some testing for an allergy study.  They did a blood test and a quick review of my nose and mouth to see if there was anything that was prevent me from qualifying for the study.  I'm hoping I hear back from them since this would potentially add a few extra Benjamins to my wallet at a time when I find myself in need of some extra money.

I arrived at the building where the interview would take place a little earlier than I had hope.  It was closer to 30 minutes before the interview instead of the 15 minutes I had planned on.  This gave me ample time to rifle through the paperwork I brought with me, obtain a paper-cut, put a hole in my nylons, pick at the hangnail next to my new paper-cut, and make a mess out of my hair under the pretense of fixing it.  After seeing the damage I did to my hair in the rear view mirror of my car, I decided it was probably better if I just went in the building to pace about at my leisure.

*facepalm*

There are no words to describe how I feel at this moment in time. I’ve been betrayed by my government, and the relationship that has spanned nearly half my life has been called into question. I don’t expect perfection from anyone, but for the love of bacon why can’t we count on a certain level of competence from people that have the power to change lives? In my last post I spoke of mistakes; I acknowledge that we are all wrong from time to time and I consider errors to be a part of the learning process. The problem is, you can only learn from your mistakes if you acknowledge their existence in the first place.

I’m sure by now you’re wondering what blunder was committed that has me so upset. As you might recall I received a case update regarding the I-130 petition that said initial processing, a status which made me quite angry. The USCIS has rescinded the approval of our I-130 petition pending an interview with them. I understand that there was a breakdown in the process and that our petition was approved after a swift kick in the ass from Senator Franken, but this is almost too much. It is the policy of the USCIS to interview every couple that files the I-130 petition while the beneficiary is in removal proceedings, or if the couple has been married less than 2 years at the time of filing. Alberto and I had only been married 3 months when the I-130 was filed, in the midst of his removal proceedings, so you see there is a reason for this development.

And then the phone rang...

I very rarely get phone calls, which probably has something to do with my hatred of talking on the phone, so whenever my phone rings I typically let it go to voicemail. This also serves the purpose of allowing me to screen my calls so I can avoid whichever collection agency is trying to contact me. Fools – you can’t collect from someone that doesn’t have any money. The only problem with this practice is my cell phone does not like dialing numbers or allowing me to access my call log; it routinely freezes or force-closes whenever I wish to call someone that is not in my contacts. I’m sure you can imagine the sense of panic I feel when the voicemail of a screened call is so important that I need to call the individual back immediately. Today was one of those times.

My phone rang and I almost answered it. It was a Washington D.C. area code, a fact I was aware of due to my previous experience with the CISOMB office. After a few moments of debate, I decided that letting it go to voicemail is the best course of action. If it was the government, I would be forewarned and if it was some other entity I probably didn’t want to talk to them anyway.

Why ME?!

You know, there are days when I can almost believe that I must have done something horrible in a past life to earn this ridiculous turn of events.  Let me show you the latest string of emails between myself, the CIS Ombudsman office, and our attorney that demonstrate the shabby treatment I receive on a regular basis.

Is there a Doctor in the House?!

My worst nightmare came to pass; we had to bring Ashley to a doctor yesterday after passing what was probably the longest day of my life waiting for Alberto to come home.  Sunday night the diarrhea started, Monday morning I bought her Gatorade and started the BRAT diet, however by Tuesday afternoon she was burning with fever and refusing to eat because she felt like she was going to throw up.  Ashley, who is normally a ball of energy, was listless and spent most of the afternoon sleeping.  The Madrina came home first and stopped in to see me as was her habit and said we needed to bring her to the doctor as soon as Alberto got home.  We jumped on him the minute he walked through the door.

Ashley moaned and cried pitifully during the entire ride to the pharmacy that partnered with a doctor much like the Minute Clinics back in Minnesota.  We paid the 25 peso consultation fee and sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait for the Doctor.  I could feel the heat radiating off her legs and Alberto recoiled in shock when I set his hand on her knee so he could feel it too.  Just then the Doctor came to the lobby to bring us back to the exam room.  As we sat talking to him about the symptoms and what she ate the last few days, Ashley continued to cry softly while poor Alberto broke into a sweat with each little noise she made.  The doctor focused on what she might have eaten asking very direct questions on whether she mostly ate chicken, pork, or beef and if we’d been anywhere outside of Mexico City.  I ran down a list of food I’d seen her eat, what she’d drank, and where we’d been including the meal we’d had at McDonald’s the other day much to my husband’s irritation.

Answer more confusing than the question

Our request for assistance from the CIS Ombudsman Office has served to confuse me more about immigration and the logic that is not employed by the government in general. I received the first response on Tuesday of this week, in the form of an email requesting a signature to authorize their pursuit of information. The email did not actually have the form that needed to be signed attached so I found in on their website, signed, scanned, and emailed the completed document back within the hour. Thinking that my portion was done, I thought to myself that I would be lucky to hear back before I leave for Mexico and moved on to my mountain of paperwork.

The next day I had another email waiting patiently for me in my inbox. This email explained that it was not my signature that they required, but that of the 'applicant' who will be referred to henceforth as my husband. In a state of extreme agitation, I forwarded the email to our attorney Lance. He responded quickly that they should not need Alberto's signature as we are inquiring on the status of the I-130 petition and not of the I-601 waiver as they had mentioned in their email. With this response in hand I emailed the CIS Ombudsman office that we needed help with the I-130 and not the I-601. Within minutes my phone was ringing. A little bewildered, I answered to discover it was the assistance of the individual that I had just emailed in the CIS Ombudsman office. They were already calling me about the email I sent not 5 minutes ago? She said that her supervisor had told her to call me and explain that it was not the I-130 petition that was 'holding up the process', but rather they were adjudicating of the I-601 waiver. Since they needed to check the status of the waiver, I needed Alberto's signature. I said I would do my very best to obtain his signature in the week they were giving me, and that was the end of the conversation.

Slowly losing my mind

I hate this.  I hate how it feels to wait for something so long and then when it’s finally about to happen I manage to freak myself out.  I hate that I can’t sit still and can barely focus.  Tonight I will hate it even more when I can’t sleep.  Luckily I’ve only emailed the attorney once today, about 10 minutes ago, and I’m trying very hard not to email him again.  He’ll understand, won’t he?  I mean Lance was there when I flipped the f*** out the day the Consulate in Cuidad Juarez called 3 times and I was unable to call them back… (see below) 

Castle in the Air

Our Thursday night visit was all of three minutes long because two idiots decided to get into a fight on Alberto’s block.  He was talking to Ashley when she handed me the phone.  He said that they were going into lockdown because of a fight, but that I should stick around to see if we could finish our visit.  I told the guard and he told me I should leave.  According to the guard we’d already concluded our visit and there were too many people still waiting.  Understandably this put me in a nasty mood since this was one of those days I really wanted to talk to my husband.  He did call me later that night but I didn’t have any credit on my phone to answer the call.

This morning was simply a continuance of my fool mood.  Work did nothing to dispel the funk I was mired in; in fact for a while it actually made things worse.  I have little patience for people that constantly ignore the rules and just do whatever they want instead.  This is not the way the world works. 

I digress, there I was just bopping along living the dream* when all of a sudden the floor disappeared from beneath my feet.  I feel like I’m going to just jump out of my skin.  After another inquiry by Senator Franken’s office, the interview has been scheduled.  I jumped out of my chair and danced around I was so happy to have a date set! 

Now here I am, sitting at the computer awake as dawn approaches.  I thought I was stressed out before, but I fear the worst is yet to come.

“In times of stress, be bold and valiant.”

-      Horace (roman poet, 65bc – 8bc)

Ciao

Turning over a ‘New Leaf’

I have always had trouble losing weight.  It’s a battle that is hard won no matter what the commercials for the latest fat burning pill or metabolism boosting supplements say.  I have to keep telling myself that the solution will not come out of some cleverly packaged capsule or beautifully designed box.  Such a shocking concept!  I realized I couldn’t afford WeightWatchers anymore so I did a few things on my own.  I joined myfitnesspal for the support, and started talking to my coworkers who I know were working on losing weight.  I needed a program that would work for me with the amount of time I had available and hopefully get results I could see.  I even talked to a personal trainer at my gym to see what he thought since I had been working out full tilt without seeing changes.  He told me that I was probably working too hard and burning the wrong calories, carbohydrates instead of fat calories.  I wasn’t about to brush off the type of advice I had been looking for, so I continued asking questions.  Within 30 minutes I was signed up something I had never heard of before: New Leaf Metabolism testing.

I presented myself at the gym at the appointed hour, a time I often refer to as the butt crack of dawn, unsure what to expect.  We sat down in a consultation room and talked about the program and what this test was about.  Today we were going to do my resting metabolism test to determine how many calories I burn daily based on my lifestyle, height, and weight.  The machine measures how much oxygen you inhale and how much carbon dioxide you exhale, so you have to wear a mask.  In the interest of conquering my fat deposits, I decided to bite the bullet and get it over with.  I wasn’t expecting it to look like some sort of fetish mask!  It reminds me of the characters (called snowths apparently) from the Muppets that were in the Mahna Mahna song!  I went through it, and the first test was just me sitting on a chair, breathing, for 20 minutes.  Exciting right?  I made the second appointment for later in the week, dreading having to exercise with the stupid thing on.

Telenovela

I cannot believe the people that hold positions of power within our government, they have the superiority complex of a ‘B’ movie villain.  An USICE official, a Boris Badenov type, took the liberty of submitting an Opposition to the Motion to Terminate Proceedings on Friday, a scant hour before closing up for the weekend.  Thank God Lance is the type of attorney that anticipates such underhanded tactics from our government, and was able to respond to the opposition before the closing hour arrived. 

The Opposition from the USICE contained erroneous ‘facts’ and made baseless assumptions in order to deny my husband the opportunity to be reunited with his family as a legal resident of the United States.  They state that Alberto was paroled into the United States for prosecution, at the conclusion of which he became inadmissible under INA § 212(a)(2)(A)(i)(I) as an alien convicted of a CIMT.  They argue that Alberto was clearly an applicant for admission because he was not in Mexican custody prior to this latest entry into the US and Alberto had petitions approved that could eventually lead to his legal admission into the US.  “It is also clear that after being at the consulate in Cuidad Juarez, Mexico, respondent voluntarily presented himself at a port of entry to try to reenter the United States, perhaps to return to Minnesota to resolve the outstanding criminal charges, and during inspection was paroled into the United States for prosecution, and turned over to EL Paso Police for extradition to Minnesota.  Clearly respondent voluntarily came to the port, applied for admission, was inspected and paroled in” Well, it is clear to me that this particular payaso tiene la cabeza metida por su culo.  They have no shame or sense of humanity whatsoever.

T minus 6 days and counting…

I can do this…  I can survive these last few days of anxiety and pain.  I will do whatever needs to be done.  I just need to relax and keep breathing.  Breathe in – hold – and breathe out.  Now that I think about it, this is an excellent time to research meditation and relaxation techniques, so if any of my readers out there have some tips to share I would love to hear them! 

I am averaging around 4 hours of sleep each night when I’m not tossing and turning.  Last night I stayed up until 1 am sorting clothes and packing boxes for whichever organization contacts us regarding donations first.  I’m up to 3 full boxes of clothes, with a fourth box of miscellaneous items.  I can’t believe how much clothing I have that doesn’t fit me even though it’s supposedly the correct size.  During these times I bemoan my large frame and above average height since getting clothing that fits properly is a rare or very expensive.  Thus the reason why retail therapy sessions never go well for me; I always wake up the next morning wondering what happened and why there is a bunch of ugly clothing on the floor.  It’s only a small comfort knowing that 90% of what I put into the boxes was purchased 3 or more years ago.  Just another good reason for me to avoid the mall when I’m feeling overwhelmed, but then again I do the same thing at JoAnn ECT, amassing a collection of miscellaneous crafting supplies for no conceivable reason.  At this point in time new clothing is a luxury item, and the only crafting I’m interested in is making my own clothes.  One of these days I will get brave enough to try something on my sewing machine…

In the eye of the storm comes a moment of calm

I would say the official start of the day was at 1 am when Ashley had a coughing fit and started crying.  I look at the bright side of the situation and realize this gave me more cuddle time than I am usually allowed.  She becomes more independent every day.  Just yesterday I tried to give her a hug and she said, “Awwwww Mamí...” in a voice reminiscent of that whiney teenager tone.  I refuse to let her grow up that fast!  She was back in bed within a half an hour and which point I collapsed in my own.  I remember nothing and apparently did not move for the rest of the night.  At 6:45 am, Ashley came downstairs and climbed into bed with me, which I may not have noticed if she didn’t fall on me trying to get to her ‘spot’.  Another round of cartoons and a shower, I began to feel almost human.  This is the point where I usually tell whomever I happen to be talking to that I am not now nor will I ever be a ‘morning person’.  As a matter of fact I had to move my super loud alarm clock to the other side of the room just to facilitate getting my arse out of bed.  I also never shut my curtains so the sun streams in on my face.  Then there is the four different alarms programmed on my cell phone and a backup alarm clock in the opposite corner of my primary alarm.  There are still days that I barely get out the house on time even with all that precaution.

By that time I was reluctantly awake and beginning to feel nervous.  The butterflies in the pit of my stomach quashed my appetite down to nothing.  Since I was running late anyway, I didn’t pack a lunch and figured I would just grab something frozen at the gas station.  This is usually a good backup plan, however, I didn’t actually remember to go and buy something.  I had a Pop Tart for breakfast since there was a box of them in my desk drawer and a piece of cinnamon coffee cake that some dear soul in our office made to share.  I felt sick to my stomach all morning and afternoon.  I finally decided to get Jimmy Johns for lunch since their subs are too bland to offend the stomach, and ended up eating only half of my sandwich.  I hope the other half is still good so I can eat it for lunch tomorrow.  As 4 o’clock approached hobbling on crutches my nervousness progressed to nausea and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.  For the love of frijoles this is my husband I was nervous about seeing!  It must be because so much time has passed since we last spoke face to face.