When ‘Boots lost her job last month, it was mostly a relief - her coworkers were horrible to her - but it also brought us into the domain of the Worry Wyvern. In order for the Powers that Be to approve my visa, we had to meet a financial requirement: namely, that she be employed six months at a salary meeting or exceeding a given threshhold. When we sent in our application, ‘Boots’s job meant we exceeded the threshhold by quite a comfortable margin. A month later, her income was zero, I’m not even allowed to look for jobs, and all was HOSHIT.
Mostly, we tried not to think about it while ‘Boots threw her resume at everything that moved. Aside from muttered confessions of “oh god what if-“ “oh god no” when we were both too tired to filter. I was haunted by visions of being shipped back to America in a small cardboard box with holes in the lid. …okay, not that last bit. But we were trying to enjoy our unexpected vacation together and leave the paperwork to fall where it may.
“We should call the Visa Guys and ask for advice,” ‘Boots suggested.
Haunted by visions of immediate deportation, I winced, “Maybe we should consult the UK Yankee forum first.” What if we called, they rejected our visa in light of this new info, but if we’d just sat tight it would have been fine? It’d be another six months before I’d be allowed to even apply again, and oh dear Primus what a nightmare that was the first time around. The plan became “call them only after Newjob has been secured”, and I very quietly held my breath.
A month later, ‘Boots gets offered a job - more than that, it’s a position they created just for her. Because she is fabulous. ^_^ I had gone croaky with illness by that point, so I sat by clinging to her hand while she called up the visa office and asked the fateful question.
“Here’s our situation, and I was just wondering… …oh, it won’t? And we don’t have to do anything? You have no idea what a relief that is!”
Cue the theatrical collapsing on our fainting couches.
“I wasn’t at all sure about this,” I told ‘Boots after, “but I’m really glad we called.” Just - you call someone up about government paperwork, where they’re not trying to sell you anything so they're not compelled to be nice, and they just - help? Just like that? What a novel concept!
I'm gonna like living here. ^_^