Catch 22

Exciting news! Ian and I have left the valley of the unemployed and are making baby steps of progress towards real permanence here (but don’t worry Mom and Dad, not permanent permanence.) We were worried that if we couldn’t “make it” here during the six month trial period, we might have to relocate again and start the whole process somewhere else. I wouldn’t say we’ve “made it” yet, but getting that first job has been a big step for both of us, and we are feeling pretty excited in a, “Let’s go see a movie and eat Chinese food” sort of way.

Now for the grotty details. Ian started work last week as a Customer Service Representative at an international stock-broking company called T.D. Waterhouse. Sound impressive? I thought so, too. He says it’s a fancy way of saying he answers the phone to change passwords that are actually numbers and not words for angry people. It’s not exactly his dream job, but we’re grateful for the money. (And now we can pay our Council Tax bill!) He’s got another interview lined up, more job applications to submit, and is busy volunteering, so he is perched and ready for any Refugee work-related action that might pop up.

Meanwhile, I have been buried in the paperwork of bureaucracy. Every time I thought I had all my t’s crossed and i’s dotted to line me up for work, the teaching agencies would come back with one more thing for me to do. The final state I found myself in was something like this:

Teaching Agency: Great, we’ll go ahead and put you on our calling list after we process A and B. That should take a few weeks. Do you have a National Insurance Number, by the way?

Me: Not yet. They said I needed to find a job first.

Teaching Agency: Ok, call them up and try to get one now. For the time being, ask for a temporary number. Then we’ll be able to process the rest of your application.

(I call National Insurance Number people)

Me: Hi, I’ve just found work and I need a National Insurance Number.

NIN Person: Ok, you just need to bring in X, Y, and Z papers and proof that you’ve started work or of the exact date you will start work.

Me: Ok, well, I can’t exactly get that because the teaching agency can’t write proof of employment for a certain day because of the nature of supply teaching. They have no way of knowing what is going to come up, and technically I won’t be employed until the day I start working. But I am theoretically working for them now. Will that work?

NIN Person: (getting frustrated) Well, you have to have proof of the date, otherwise you’ll have to cancel your interview! You can’t have a number without it!

Me: (whimpering) Ok. I’ll ask them. Can I have a temporary number for now?

NIN Person: Well, temporary numbers don’t exist.

Me: What? Everyone gets them. My husband just got one a few days ago.

NIN Person: Yes, we do give them out. But you can make up any number you like, really, because technically speaking, they don’t exist.

Me: ???

(Back to Teaching Agency)

Me: I couldn’t get a National Insurance Number because they said I need to prove that I have a job first. Will you a letter for me?

Teaching Agency: No, we can’t write you a letter. You can’t have a job without a National Insurance number.

So, I was feeling pretty frustrated by now with this catch-22 (which, coincidently, is the book I’m reading at the moment). Since my National Insurance interview is in two weeks, I’ve been feeling bound and determined to produce some sort of proof that I had work. Even if I had to drop the whole teaching idea for now and get a temp job, at least then I’d be able to get that stupid number and get teaching work later. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, aliens invaded and disrupted the bureaucratic order. For some reason, I got a call from the teaching agency saying that they had found a job for me, and could I start on Monday. I was completely shocked, of course, because I thought they had a billion steps to get through first before I’d even be eligible for jobs. I don’t have any idea how this came about, but I’m just glad that I have work teaching English and music now for three weeks, AND I can prove to the National Insurance people that I’ve already started working and secure my precious number.

In other news, I tried pomegranate and raspberry juice today. It was gross. But maybe you’ll be proud of me to know (and maybe you don’t really care, but I’ll tell you anyway), that I thought of the poor family with no goat in Africa and I gulped it all down anyway.

Employably,
Kristy