Thursday, March 10, 2011


Although generally brilliant in pretty much everything there is to be brilliant in, when it comes to matters of other countries, and more specifically their work permits, I've got no fucking idea. I'm on round 2 (ding ding) of the battle royal between myself and the Cayman Islands immigration department for my temporary work permit. Round 1 ended in either a draw or a loose for me depending on your opinion; my first permit was deferred. I don't know why. I don't exactly know what that even means. I feel like a Yale legacy that got deferred, just without the shame and being blackballed from the family's country club.

For those of us (just me?) wanting a little adventure and to see and work in a different part of the world ( I think) you need these work permits. If you're not cool, and in, lets say reinsurance or accounting, you're hard pressed to find an employer and (obviously) a job. Since it is your employer that applies for the work permit, not having an employer means not having a work permit. Not having a work permit means no island living for you (me). In this situation, people like myself have to go through a recruiter. The recruiter then applies for your work permit and you pretty much owe them what seems like a first born and your left kidney. Fine. Whatever.

Well, my recruitment agency really likes me. Or did. They put a rush on my (second) work permit- aka an answer in 48 hours. They did this on Monday. It's Thursday. Yesterday was a holiday (the Brits seem to have lots and lots of these). I called at 930 and still- no answer on my work permit. I feel like we've passed the 48 hour mark. Since the rushed permit doesn't come cheap, I assumed the people paying for this not cheap rush would be more interested in finding out if I got the permit. Not so. Apparently, it's just little old me (whose in packing and moving limbo) that seems to care. 

As I sit here, I'm trying to figure out what to pack and how to pack it so it doesn't get destroyed: which is ironic since I have no reason to pack as there is no conformation I have the work permit. I'm not moving permanently (or at all?) so I don't need much. However, considering I live like a hoarder, having me just sit around alone and pick and choose what to take and what to leave in a storage unit is down right stupid. Obviously as indicated by this blog post I'm not doing what I should be: punching people in the throat until I have a permit sorting, packing, labeling, ect. No instead I'm sitting here feeling down right spiteful toward the fine government workers in the immigration department.

The trick here is, I can't actually go to the island until I have my work permit. Because nothing can be easy, the island has a law that states when you have a work permit application in (limbo), you can't be on the island, you know, hanging out and what not. So, here I am, lead to believe I'm totally, for sure, like 100%, "no really please stop worrying this will all work out", "take deep breathes we have this covered" and" you're for sure going to be all set to get this work permit". I've up and quit my job last week and have been recruiting my mom and best friend to come and help me pack, tear apart, transport, and clean my apartment. All assuming I'll be hoping on a big ole shiny plane this weekend and heading down, work permit in hand. 

Won't I feel like a total unemployed asshole if I get deferred, or worse, rejected, from this second permit application.

Last time I was unemployed, it wasn't by choice. This time? Well this time feel different since I signed myself up for this. I'm giving up a lot for this little adventure: Miss Florida (for this summer anyways), a stable job, my friends and family, my beautiful Pepper (don't worry she's with her grammy and will be coming to Cayman once I get a real job and permit longer than 6 months. What you think I'd leave my 1st born?!) and America.

I've pretty much seen Canada. Although I'm giving up a few things, I've got the opportunity to meet people from all over the world, drive on the other side of the road(!!!!), actually advance my career (once I, you know, get one) and really live my life instead of just complaining about it. So although it's scary and so very frustrating, I know that this little adventure will be worth it. IF I can get this work permit. 

So, below are some picture of my apartment. It doesn't suck. I wish I could have/ would have told more people about this sooner but even now I'm not positive I have a work permit and thus can't even be positive I'm going. So, sincere apologies for everyone just seeing this, but take heart I have a spare bedroom/ bathroom and there are direct flights from Tampa. You're all invited ; )

The complex from the beach.

I look at the beach from our living room. Sunsets are beautiful!

Looking left from our beach you can see the cruise ships.

Me, a shit eating grin, and a sting ray.

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