It was the worst of times: Part III

I knew that "It was the worst of times: Part III" was destined to be written when upon waking up my mind immediately ran through the morning's checklist only to realize I lacked a very critical item necessary to all the day's to-dos.

I hate to admit it, but I did in fact allow the movers to take with them nearly everything I own yesterday and that would include my passport which I neglected to pull from the filing cabinet prior to it being carted away.

I guess I can thank my lack of sleep for the head start this morning--it was 6am when the missing passport came to mind and I quickly rushed into the office as I had no PC, no international calling capability, no alcohol, nothing really to help me cope at the apartment.

Once at my desk I promptly dialed Nick who thankfully, immediately had the foresite to start tracking down the moving staff employees to get back said 'book of governmental stamps' whereas I had begun googling the American Embassy, it's opening hours, procedures etc to see about temporary replacements. Nick's idea turned out to be the winner--still time consuming, but definately the better bet.

Making use of the 'emergency mobile number' Sante Fe Movers had given us, I wasted no time and dialed despite it being 6:45am which set off a chain of steps which led to procuring my 'lost' passport at around 11am with time to spare before my noontime exit interview with the bosses boss.

Spending 2.5 hours trekking outside the city to some warehouse out in the boonies wasn't how I'd planned on spending my last day in Hong Kong, but heck, I did say this is 'the worst of times' didn't I?

I'd like to say that that was the end of the difficulties I would face, but it was not. Next, in an effort to avoid a fiasco whereby I could not secure a taxi to the airport due to the heavy heavy rain (though I'd managed to get one from the mall to the apartment) I asked that same cab to wait outside my apartment (meter running) while I ran up to said apartment to grab my luggage. This plan did not allow time for the removal of remaining trash from the unit, but it was a task thrown aside in favor of peace of mind that my arse would find itself at the gate in good time.

Holding the taxi turned out to be a good move, I made it to the airport earlyish, although with soaked pant legs. However, my timely boarding did not result in a timely departure.

The plan boarded a good 40 minutes late after which we slowly made our way toward the runway only to hear an announcement from the pilot informing us that some electrical problem had been detected and we'd need to head back to the gate for repair.

Said repair ended up requiring 3 hours, and our original departure of 4:50 was in fact 8pm.

The good news people: never have I been so glad to have a cushion of a 5 hour lay-over. My flight to Seattle out of Taiwan wasn't scheduled to leave until 11pm and so here I am at 10pm, able to make this post despite the massive delay, and I will still board in good time.

Let's hope in the next 30 minutes at which point boarding starts, nothing occurs to goof up this leg of my trip. After 3 days of pretty much solid angst I would consider it a huge gift to be able to make my entrance into Sea-Tac at the previously scheduled time.

Here's to hoping the remaining 2 hours of this day are non-eventful.

It was the worst of times: Part II

I knew that 'It was the worst of times: Part two' was destined to be written at the very moment I bent over today to pick up water soaked tax documents which had fallen out of my folder as I ran down the street (in heels might I note) in effort to catch a cab. All of my woes these days can be traced back to a) taxes b) transportation c) moving to another country.

I realize a, b, & c pretty much cover everything going on in my life except for say eating and the less than glamourous processes that following eating--so I guess pretty much the entirety of my life is stress inducing at this point.

If I hadn't been so busy being stressed I would've taken the time to send an email to family today with the subject line reading 'SOS.' I like, need tranquelizers, sedation, prayer, anything proven to bring one's level of alarm down from that equal to a person entering heart surgery.

Yesterday I was not successful in closing out my responsibilities with HK's Internal Revenue Department. I went back this morning only to face more challenge, which is par for the course--seeing as how my life has been too easy up til now, apparently.

Firstly, the IRD had issue with my trying to handle Nick's (who resides in Seattle) tax return. Why he leave Hong Kong? Why he not settle taxes first? Why his employer not inform IRD? I launched into my awkward speech on how at the point he left Hong Kong, Nick didn't know whether he'd be returning and his employer didn't know either, thus there was no 'Permanent Departure from HK' to declare. In Chinese culture it's just apparently 'the thing' to not accept anybody's first answer to any question.

For folks like myself, who might like to blog, yet prefer to keep verbal convo's short, I get irritated and fast. "Why you make me answer same question 3 times and give same answer 3 times?" I want to ask. But I don't. I've gotten used to it. I just answer, re-answer, and answer again as they stare at me with a look that says I ought to know they expect me to keep talking. Everything becomes a sales job to convince them to let you shut up.

Once we got over the issue of 'Whether Nick Nordberg of Seattle Washington, previously of Sheung Wan Hong Kong was a tax-evading scumbag', it was realized his form was sans signature. I had intended to take care of that little problem prior to walking up to the service counter, but had forgotten. His signature was also needed on my returns, but thankfully I had not overlooked that--but I will refrain from spelling out how that was solved... There was a moment today where I had visions of being hauled away in handcuffs.

The subject of this post is my woes, and I will get back to them, as there are many--but the good news of the day I suppose is that not only was I successful in convincing them that Nick is not a law-breaking moron, but also that I myself am an honest individual. They agreed to let me inform Nick that he may file his return (with signature) from Washington, with a month's extension and no penalty.

As we moved on to the topic of my fiscal responsibilities I was not happy to learn one of the required forms, authored by my employer, had not been properly 'chopped' ie stamped with the company's official signage. The form was no good. I made my way back to the office, proceeded to wait 2 hours for HR to re-do said form and then hurried back in effort to get this thing over with.

Once the tax estimate was calculated, I moved to another line to pay, then I moved to another line to procure my receipt. Then I moved to another building to make my 'Formal declaration of my intention to leave Hong Kong' so that the government could issue me a letter saying I had made a formal declaration of my intention to leave Hong Kong--so that I could give said letter to the employer--so that they could give said letter to the manager of my MPF scheme--so that said manager of my MPF scheme would let me cash out said MPF scheme versus continue to hold the funds here in Hong Kong.

This declaration began promptly at 5:30 and thankfully was not too complicated. It was shortly after that as previously mentioned, I proceeded to drop all the receipts and letters I had collected throughout the afternoon into a streetside puddle as I ran after a cab.

Oh, yea, so I forgot to mention another pretty little complication. I neglected to engage my noodle and foresee that the IRD would absolutely not let me use a credit card to settle my taxes. I knew they might not, so I'd brought my cheque book (which I never use and thus had to scour for) only to learn I couldn't use it either as it'd take 14 days to clear and only following would my 'letter of clearance' (needed to receive my last paycheck) be given to me. I inquired on the nearest ATM, ran down (in heels) and proceeded to drop a zero off 'the amount due' thus withdrawing a heck of alot less than I owed. Approaching the 'pay counter' for the 2nd time I handed the fellow a stack of cash to which he replied, "Missy, you owe alot more."

I ran back down (still in heels) attempting to take the ATM for all it was worth, only to find my withdrawal limit precluded me from doing so. Thankfully my daily limit however was cooperative and after 3 transactions I had enough dough to buy a 1985 Honda Civic, or pay off my Hong Kong taxes. Third time is a charm in this scenario, and how thankful I was to be able to finally have completed this task!

Tomorrow the movers come to box and take away my stuff, and oh how I am hoping this process goes off without a hitch. Please let it be so...

It was the worst of times...

I don't usually make impromptu blog postings seeing as how 'writing-on-the-fly' is pretty much equal to making a diary entry and while family and friends may accuse me from time to time of being way too open and treating this here public space as a diary, it is not one. It is not random. It is not quickly thrown together. It is not all emotion with little substance.

I prefer to pre-plan postings on abnormull, ensuring they have an interesting opening, neatly tied ending, well placed jokes if appropriate, etc-you get the idea. Today however, is not a day for form, so you will have to forgive whatever follows. It may be random and emotional and quickly typed up.

I am having a day from the h & e & two-hockey-sticks-place.

It all started ok.

I knew I had tax homework to do today, errands to run, confusing governmental processes to deal with, but I felt up to the challenge. Everything was going fine as I readied for and then headed to work.

Somewhere underneath all that poise though was/is a stress I couldn't shake related to my upcoming travel plans. Prior to my decision to move back to Seattle I'd paid for tickets from Hong Kong to Cambodia for June 6th-9th. It's a 'duh statement' to say the trip sounded like a good idea when planned. Today however, the only place I want to be is Seattle, like pronto, as is 2 weeks ago is not soon enough.

I can't deal. I hate transition. I hate packing. I hate settling issues with the company's human resources and with goverment employees. I feel stress mounting upon stress, mounting upon my missing family in Washington.

I. want. to. be. in. Seattle. Period. Fullstop.

At some point this morning I got the bright idea to skip the Cambodia trip. Despite an Angkor Wat sunrise temple tour being on my Asia to-do list, I just am in no mood. And anyone who's taken the basic college courses understands sunk costs. Furthermore I could save $100 or $200 not investing more money into said trip and instead heading straight home, and need I explain what I consider to be home, I think not after all of the above.

My middle name you could say is pretty much anything other than content. I can be a real pain in the ass when my mind is set on something or my mind is set against something. Sort of related to that, I asked my trainer if I was a difficult client. He said no, but followed that up with, "But you are very stubborn and you think you're always right." I told him that I think I'm always right because I usually am right, to which he laughed but did agree.

How stubborn and difficult are really that different, I don't know--I might need to ask him for clarification. But back on topic, once the idea of skipping Cambodia entered my mind I just could not refrain from looking into making that plan a reality.

Being that the employer is paying for my flight home, I'd used their preferred travel agent to book my Tuesday June 10th ticket--but doing so turned out to be a mini-nightmare as the staff of said establishment are both unattentive and a bit clueless and only deepened my love for the people-less processes of Zuji. Anyway, they proclaimed they couldn't alter anything pertaining to my ticket without prior approval from the employer--which approval was not needed from 1, but rather 3 persons, and oh so quickly my smallish idea to head stateside 4 days early snow-balled into one largish problem.

It turned out 'This person' wouldn't approve without 'That person' approving first, and 'That person' wouldn't approve without so and so approving first, and then began the questions on why I wanted to change my ticket anyway, etc, etc and I ended up leaving a phone conversation literally and humiliatingly in tears.

My HR Generalist I have recently learned (thank goodness I had no prior need of her) turns out is a real unhelpful, downright trouble causing, stress inducing person. She is rude. She is the definition of what a human resource employee ought not to be. I need only breathe to irritate her.

I ended up scrapping the idea of modifying my ticket, which surprisingly, but not surprisingly, did not make the HR witch happy, but actually further infuriated her which made no sense what-so-ever to me. That whole story would require more time explaining and frankly I'd rather move on from the topic of her.

Following that whole mini-fiasco I composed myself and left my desk at 7pm only to find it was raining quite heavily, and I tell you the prospect of waiting 40 to 60 minutes for a taxi is enough to ruin my day, let alone ruin an already off-kilter day.

I decided rather than wait in the rain, I'd head back up to the desk. Fourty-five minutes later I ventured back down for another try and thankfully the rain had subsided. But that would be the end in my luck improving.

I was unfortunate enough to get one of those taxi drivers who pretends they don't understand you in effort to take you on a route you don't want to go so they might make more money. I'd had enough. After repeating my destination 3 times, I yelled. I yelled my destination, twice. He reluctantly turned around, but did not heed my request to restart the meter despite that I would be paying for his driving in the opposite direction I'd wanted for a good 3 minutes.

He proceeds down the road as I wished, but when told to stop he does not. He makes me yell 'stop' 3 times before he finally does so. Yes, he understood my English. It doesn't need to be said that I was feeling pissed and in absolutely no mood for his rudeness. I decided to give him $27 though the meter said $28.6 - this is really the only means a passenger has when stuck with the driver who does everything he can to eeck more money out of ya. I had $27 handy, so that's what I gave him as I stepped out. He proceeds to yell after me. I proceed to ignore. So, what does he do but yell, "Fuck You."

I choose not to censor because I felt the full affects of the actual words. It was unfortunately all too real, and boy was it a lousy ending to a lousy day.

In addition to all that negative drama, I came home to a fridge which--in prep for my move--has nothing in it. I heated up a lowly corn dog taken from the freezer only to realize I didn't even have ketchup which would make the thing actually enjoyable.

I proceed to eat it anyway as I began this post, only to bump my knee as I sat down at the computer--that was about the 3rd time I'd injured something today.

After consulting Nick, in the end I/we settled on skipping the Cambodia trip (with no help from HR) and I'll be arriving in Seattle a few days sooner than planned, how grateful I am for that. But let's hope I am served up a good day tomorrow, despite my needing to revisit the government offices to complete a job I could not today.

Simply put, let's hope the next 72 hours are better than the last 72 have been.