Fuzzy Slippers and Immigration

Last December, I was contacted for an interview to teach at the university.  And I was nervous - REALLY nervous. I hadn't worn make-up or high heels in 1.5 years or needed to act in any way like a professional. At the door outside the interview room, I breathed deep gasping breaths and knocked before I could lose my nerve.

The door opened and I was greeted by a man wearing ... fuzzy slippers.  His TAs bounced in and out of his office during our 20-minute meeting where we discussed which classes I'd like to teach.  Apparently, I'd already been hired (without a speck of paperwork) and we were working out the details of scheduling. Wow - this was EASY.

I just needed to get a proper work visa for professors. This should not be  hard, as the university has obviously hired many foreign professors, right?

According to the university, I needed to bring these documents to Immigration to get the work visa:

Passport
Alien Registration Card
Diploma from my highest degree
Certificate of Career (a document from Dordt verifying my dates of employment)
A visa application form (provided at immigration)
A form from the university requesting the visa (in Korean)
Department minutes confirming the desire to hire me (in Korean)
A copy of the university's business license (in Korean)
130,000 won in cash only (about $122)

And before we proceed further, you should know the main characters in this drama:

HeHeHe (university staff; this is close to her real name, but not her personality)
Angel (my university's foreign faculty advocate)
MeansWell (immigration woman)

In January I went to the immigration office with all the papers and cash, filled out the application form, and took a number.  I was called to a desk where I handed over my paper pile.  Ms. MeansWell was momentarily puzzled by my Ph.D. diploma being behind glass, but when I refused to remove it (hey, we spent good money getting that baby professionally framed), she conferred with co-workers and just photocopied it through the frame. All was well.

But after 20 more minutes of paper shuffling, rubber stamping, and occasional words in English, it ends up I was missing an actual contract. Well, crap on a crab.  Ms. MeansWell offered to keep all my papers and once I brought her a contract, it would be easy peasy to give me my visa.

I called Angel about the contract commotion (I had to return home to make the call, as my new cell phone wouldn't make calls, which was a separate cluster of grief). After some work with various university offices, I was assured that HeHeHe would get me the contract.

But there was a teeny tiny glitch: the university doesn't actually offer actual contracts until the actual semester actually starts.  In March. Further, to GET said contract from the university, I needed proof of a Korean bank account in my name; Korea doesn't do joint bank accounts, and the university cannot put my paycheck into Nick's bank account, so I had to go open my very own Korean bank account (and THAT was a fun trip all in itself.)  In the end, I got a DRAFT of my contract, which was in English and nice to have despite the "Part-Time Instructor" title being a little poke to my 16 years of Professor pride.  But, contract draft in hand, I sauntered into immigration, slapped that thing down and asked for my Easy Peasy Visa.  I waited while Ms. MeansWell hid behind her computer, called a bunch of people, called Angel, consulted her immigration co-workers, and devised other stalling tactics until Nick finally lost his mind and said, "Do we have a problem here?"

Well, now that you ask, yes.  As it turns out, I wasn't eligible for a professor visa because my contract said my job title was "instructor." Not professor.  Oh, of COURSE. I badly wanted to stamp my foot, but I'll never forget when I did so in an argument with Nick at the grocery store and he LAUGHED at me.  So, Ms. MeansWell would need to consult with her regional manager who was apparently visiting another universe and might return her call during the remaining future of the earth.  Home we went, again, visa-less.

On visit #3 we reached a solution of sorts.  For the bargain price of only 120,000 won (about $115),  I got a tiny permission slip in my passport that means I can teach while still on my current (spouse/dependent) visa.

Oh, but don't go breathing any sighs of relief, dear reader.  Do you see the expiration date on there?  My spanking new not-visa would expire on March 31 because that just happens to be the end of Nick's contract year (and, as you know, I am on a spouse/dependent visa. Which means when he expires, the whole family expires).

So.  So.  Once the semester started and Nick got his shiny new two-year contract, we went back to immigration for the FOURTH TIME so we could all fill out paperwork and get new alien registration cards and I could reapply for my non-visa for another 120,000 won. I shall mention here, between tightly gritted teeth, that Ms. MeansWell was no longer employed at this immigration office and HeHeHe was also out of the picture as March is apparently Get Another Job Month.  And, of course, New Immigration Guy knew NOTHING of the earlier visa cluster-astrophe and we ONCE AGAIN called Angel and despite her urgent and quite possibly rough language, we still had to pay again for my not-visa.

Did you know that "sabotage" supposedly comes from Dutch workers who "threw their sabots (wooden shoes) into the textile looms to break the cogs"? (thank you, wikipedia).  At this point, I, for one, very much wanted to stick a fuzzy slipper or four into a certain Korean bureaucracy.

P.S. In case you wondered about my salary, let's just say that I spent half of my first monthly paycheck getting government permission to get a paycheck.

P. P. S. I've been hired to teach two courses this fall! But guess what?  My not-visa expires in August, just as the fall semester starts.  Maybe this time I'll just wait for immigration to come to me....